“No. But I’ve got my eyes and ears open, honey.”
“Okay.”
She watched me a second longer than necessary, her expression softening around the edges. “You think this is about the land.”
I hesitated. “I don’t know what I think.”
The river moved steadily behind us, that low rush constant and indifferent. A breeze kicked up and rattled the metal awning over her porch, the sound sharper than it needed to be.
Aggie shifted in her chair. “People have been circling this place for years,” she said. “Developers. Investors. Men in pressed shirts who think they can charm an old widow into signing something she doesn’t read.”
“And?”
“And I tell them the same thing every time.” Her mouth curved slightly. “Harold didn’t buy this land so somebody else could turn it into riverfront condos.”
That eased something in my chest. A little.
“But,” she added, “that doesn’t mean folks won’t try something different.”
“You tell me if anyone does reach out,” I said quietly.
She leaned forward and patted my knee. “You tell me if you stop pretending Travis isn’t still bothering you.”
I looked away first. Because she wasn’t wrong. I’d always worry about her. And she’d do the same for me.
As the conversation shifted to lighter topics—whose grandson was getting married, which yarn store had the bestsales—a nagging thought settled in the back of my mind. Travis worked for the mayor’s office. He’d been Whitaker’s right-hand man for years, handling “community outreach” and whatever polished term they used for pushing the town’s agenda. Revitalization. Development.
Travis showing up more aggressively now, right as whispers of land offers started circulating. Was he even coming around here for me? Was he scouting for Whitaker? Or was he attempting to get to me so he could leverage my relationship against Aggie? Or was this just his petty way of clinging to control, tangled up in something bigger? The tie felt too neat, too convenient. And maybe even dangerous. If Travis was involved in the push for Riverside Pines, then my ex wasn’t just a personal problem anymore. He may be a threat to the only home I have left.
Chapter 5
Levi
By the time I pulled out of Riverside Pines, the rain had settled into a steady, soaking downpour. The river ran high beside the road, dark and fast, swollen with runoff. I caught a glimpse of the trailers tucked too close to the water, metal siding gleaming wet, porch lights already on, Becca’s teal one brightest among them. The current pressed against the bank, as if testing how much longer it could wait. One bad spring flood, one engineer’s report calling the lots “uninhabitable,” and someone could declare the whole place a hazard. Or use it as a way to push people out. Travis hadn’t just come to beg Becca back tonight. He’d come to remind her how easy it would be to take everything away.
I turned onto the main road and headed back toward town, windshield wipers thudding a familiar rhythm as Sweetbriar unfolded around me. Holloway’s Pub glowed warm through rain-streaked windows, the neon sign buzzing faintly as I passed. I didn’t look directly at it. Didn’t need to. The memory lived there whether I wanted it to or not—whiskey on my breath, pavement cold beneath my knees, Becca’s face lit by the parking lot lights…Marry me.
I gripped the steering wheel harder and kept driving.
My sister Violet’s coffee shop came next, purple chairs just visible through the glass, the same place she’d stood that morning with damp hair and stubborn pride, refusing help even when she needed it. The image of Travis in her doorway followed close behind. He’d been too familiar, too confident, like he still had a claim on her. He didn’t.
Travis hadn’t scared me. He wasn’t bigger or stronger or worth my fear. What he was—what he’d always been—was entitled. Used to being let back in. Used to Becca softening, accommodating, explaining herself. I’d watched her shoulders go tight the second she heard his voice. I’d seen the way she held herself still, as though if she didn’t move, he couldn’t take anything else from her.
My jaw clenched.
I told myself I’d done the right thing. I hadn’t escalated the situation. I hadn’t spoken over her. I’d stepped in only when she needed me to. Still, the anger sat low in my chest, heavy and unfamiliar, like something I didn’t know what to do with yet. The town blurred past. The park where we’d spent summers, the bend in the road where the river dipped close, the quiet streets lined with houses I’d known my whole life. Sweetbriar had a way of holding onto things. Of reminding you who you were, even when you tried to move on.
I turned into my townhouse complex just as dusk settled in, the lights inside my place with Jude already glowing warm. The building was solid, brick and wood, nothing fancy but comfortable. A place that didn’t rattle when the wind picked up. A place that stayed put.
I parked, shut off the engine, and sat there for a moment longer than necessary, listening to the rain fall against the windshield.
Inside, my life was simple. Predictable. Safe. My family was the same. My life was settled in a way Becca’s never was. And allI could think about was the woman living in a trailer by the river, pretending she didn’t need help, pretending there weren’t things between us that had never been finished.
Jude’s boots were by the door, kicked off in the familiar careless way that meant he was home for the evening. I shut the door quietly behind me and set my keys on the small table by the door.
“You brought her the lasagna?” Jude called from the kitchen.
“Yeah, I just dropped it off,” I said, toeing my shoes off and lining them up without thinking.
