“Never know when the urge to get tipsy will arise.”
Mac grinned, pouring a healthy dose into each cup. “Why am I not surprised that my daddy—the man leading the charge against The Willow Tree openin’ in town—has liquor at work?”
“Because he’s predictable. Thou doth protest too much.”
“We drinkin’ to forget something tonight?” Whiskey wasn’t Mac’s favorite either, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Avery picked up her glass, knocking the edge against Mac’s before bringing it to her lips. Over the rim, she met Mac’s gaze. “You tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
Avery blew out a frustrated breath and rolled her eyes. “Cut the shit, Mac. I’m not Will. I get if you don’t want to talk to her about whatever is going on with you and Hudson—she and Finn arenauseatinglyin love—but I’m single as fuck, and I give damn good advice.”
Mac opened her mouth to protest, but instead found the whole story spilling out. She recounted everything that’d happened between her and Hudson—both in the weeks since he’d been home, and in the years he’d been gone. Well, almost everything. She couldn’t quite manage to rehash the cutting words Hudson had said at her place. When he’d told her she wasn’t— Well, it didn’t matter because she wasn’t thinking about that right now. Crying in front of Avery would be highly inconvenient.
With her gaze connected to Mac’s, Avery demolished the entire container of lo mein while Mac talked. She interjected her humor every so often, but for the most part, she listened quietly.
Too quietly.
“Are you just gonna stare at me, Ms.Damn Good Advice?” Mac finally asked after long moments of silence.
“Just trying to figure out how to approach this.”
“No approachin’ necessary. Just spit it out.”
Avery hummed and leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs, one high-heeled boot swinging. “You know, Will had this same problem. Had to talk her out of being an idiot, too.”
Mac rolled her eyes, remembering Will mentioning something about that back when Hudson had first arrived in town. “She told me.”
“Looks like it got through,” Avery said dryly.
Mac exhaled long and low, shaking her head. “Her and Finn’s situation was completely different.”
“Maybe.” Avery shrugged, tossing back the rest of her whiskey. “But the regrets would still be the same. And they’re a real bitch to live with. That something you want for the rest of your life? What-ifs and what-could’ve-beens?”
Hudson waited until there were only a handful of people left before he approached Kenna. She had her back to him as she listened carefully to Carol Ann’s plea to use the Square for the school’s annual bake sale without paying for a permit. Kenna listened as the other woman detailed what the money would be used for, and how beneficial it would be to have one hundred percent of the funds going toward it.
Acting mayor really did suit her, despite her insistence otherwise. She truly cared about the people of this town and had their best interests at heart. Not only that, but she was a hell of a lot more approachable than her old man, and the residents had begun to notice.
He’d been wrong—shewasneeded there. She had a place in Havenbrook that no one could dispute. Shoes no one else could fill. And despite this not being what she’d set out to do with her life, it fit her and it fit her well.
Carol Ann got pulled away, and Kenna stayed rooted in place, turning her head slowly as if she were scanning the room. For him? He sure as hell hoped so. Otherwise, he was about to make a fool out of himself.
He stepped up behind her and leaned down to place his mouth mere inches from her ear. “Who’re you lookin’ for?”
She jumped, letting out a soft yelp, but didn’t turn to face him. “Holy shit, Hud. You lookin’ to add creeper to your resume?”
His lips quirked up on the side, and he stepped around until they stood face-to-face. Christ, she was so beautiful it hurt, the sight of her making his chest tight. Or maybe that was the thought of leaving her behind. Again.
CB wiggled in his arms, trying to get to Kenna, and she obliged, grabbing the squirming dog out of his hands.
“Someone’s excited to see me,” she said, burying her face in the dog’s fur.
“I’m tryin’ not to let it bruise my ego that you came to my farewell party but haven’t said a single word to me all night up until now. And the dog got a better greeting than I did. It’s because you’re intimidated by my devastating good looks, isn’t it?”
“Bruised ego, my ass,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “A Mack truck couldn’t bruise that thing, so I’m pretty sure it ain’t gonna happen ’cause of little old me.”
That was where she was wrong. His ego—and every other part of him—had taken a battering that night at her place, not to mention every day since. Each time she didn’t take his calls. Each time she avoided him in town. Each time she didn’t text back.
