I groaned. “News travels fast.”
“This is Hard Timber, sugar. What did you expect?”
I sighed. “It was…fine.”
“Fine.” She drew the word out like she didn’t believe it for a second. “Meaning you didn’t throw your clipboard at his head?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, that’s progress.” She unwrapped the pie, cut two slices, and handed me a plate. “Eat. You look like you’ve been trying to survive on adrenaline and espresso.”
I stabbed a bite with my fork just to make her happy. “Marla roped me into helping with the wedding prep. I couldn’t say no.”
“Marla could talk a wolf out of its fur coat.” Nellie chewed thoughtfully. “Still, must be something working closely with him again.”
I hesitated. “He looks the same.”
“Handsome, broody, built like the side of a barn?”
I rolled my eyes. “And impossible. He acts like nothing’s changed, like—” I stopped. “Like he doesn’t care.”
“Maybe he’s trying to protect himself.”
“Or maybe he really doesn’t give a flying fig about me anymore.”
Nellie’s gaze softened. “Honey, I’ve watched that boy look at you since he was knee-high to a fencepost. If that’s indifference, I’m a size two.”
I laughed despite myself. “You always say that.”
“Doesn’t make it less true.”
We ate in silence for a few minutes. The sugar hit my bloodstream and almost made me feel human again.
Finally, Nellie said, “So what’s this I hear about that hotshot podcaster stirring things up again?”
I groaned again. “You, too?”
“Marla told me he’s coming back to do a few shows around the wedding.” She arched a brow. “I would have thought he’d be done trying to air all our dirty laundry in the name of journalism.”
“I wish he’d pick another town.”
“Why? You got something to hide?”
I froze. “Doesn’t everyone?”
Nellie gave me that sharp, knowing look only she could pull off. “Some of us more than others.”
She had to know what I’d done. Her expression confirmed it. I set down my fork, wondering how it would feel to finally admit my mistake to someone. “What do you mean, Nellie?”
She got super still. “I found a copy of the list at the café, hon. You and Gillian had been sharing that booth in the back and when I cleaned off your table, I picked up a crumpled ball of paper. I didn’t know for sure if the two of you wrote it, but I thought it would be a good way to give the men in this town a loving nudge to take a good, hard look at themselves.”
My throat went dry. “It was supposed to be private. Just something we wrote for fun. No one was ever supposed to see it.”
Her sigh was long and quiet. “Lord help me, I thought I was doing a good thing.” She reached across the counter, covering my hand with hers. “What’s done is done, sweetheart. All we can do now is tell the truth when it comes knocking.”
I looked down at her hand—steady, warm, unflinching—and wondered if I’d ever be that brave.
The front door opened again, and both of us turned.
