We walk in holding hands.
The diner doesn’t go silent like in a movie, but conversations pause mid-sentence. Heads turn, and gazes track us. Heat crawlsup my neck. I wait for Cole to drop my hand, to step away, to make space between us.
He doesn’t. His grip tightens.
Roz spots us, and her face lights up. “Well, look who it is. The ridge hermit and our favorite cookie girl.”
We approach the counter. He holds my hand and brushes my knuckles with his thumb.
“Morning, Roz.” My voice is steady, but my hand trembles.
“Morning, honey. Cole.” Roz pours two coffees without asking, but her eyes are on our joined hands. “You two look cozy.”
I glance at Cole, waiting. My heart pounds.
This is the moment. He could deflect, could laugh it off, could…
“We are,” he says loudly enough for the nearby tables to hear. “Together. Holly and me.”
Relief floods through me so fast my knees go weak.
Roz’s grin could light the room. “Well, it’s about damn time, Hart.”
“Yeah.” He meets my gaze, and I see the promise there. “It is.”
A man in his early sixties with a weathered face and work-worn hands looks up from his coffee at the counter. I don’t recognize him, which means he must be one of the ridge regulars who rarely come to town.
“Cole Hart with a girlfriend?” The man’s voice carries. “Hell, I didn’t think you talked to anyone but Jesse and Wells. Now you’re parading around town with her on your arm?”
Cole stiffens beside me, his jaw tightening. I squeeze his hand, and after a beat, he squeezes back.
“Dave.” He keeps his voice level. “This is Holly Brooks. She’s mine. And yeah, I’m making sure everyone knows it.”
Dave snorts. “We’ll see. You’ve been a hermit for three years, Hart. Think you can handle having someone around full-time?”
“Yes.” He pulls me against his side. “I know I can. Because she’s worth it.”
Dave studies Cole, then looks at me. His expression softens slightly. “You know what you’re getting into? He’s not exactly Mr. Social.”
I lift my chin. “I know exactly what I’m getting. And I’m choosing it on purpose.”
Something shifts in Dave’s face. He nods once. “All right then. Don’t mess this up, Hart.”
“I won’t,” he says.
Before we can say anything, Mrs. Porter walks in. She stops when she sees us. “Cole and Holly.”
He nods.
“Last time you brought a woman to Roz’s was for Emma and Beau’s engagement breakfast,” Mrs. Porter says, not unkindly but stating a fact. “I’m glad you’re moving forward, Cole. Your sister would want that for you.”
My hand tightens around his.
His muscles tense, but he doesn’t look away. “She would. Emma would’ve loved Holly. Would’ve made sure I didn’t screw it up.”
Mrs. Porter smiles, her eyes shining. “Yes. She would have.”
My chest aches, not with jealousy but with the wish I could’ve met Emma and thank her for helping Cole to love someone properly, even if it scares him.
