She pulls me back toward the booth where Leo and Chris are still talking, animated and tipsy. She shoves a shot glass into my hand, her grin wide and wicked.
Then she clinks her glass against mine and tips it up to my lips. “Cheers to celebrating your first, proper Halloween.”
We knock them back, the tequila burning hot and clean down my throat. I've lost track of what number that is but she's sober enough to stand up right and I have a nice buzz going now.
“Okay, let’s go.”
“What are we doing?”
Her smile turns mischievous. “We’re taking you trick-or-treating.”
And just like that, I know I’d follow her anywhere.
Chapter 22 – Rhiannon
Okay, so without a bucket, costume, or child, we look ridiculous trick-or-treating in the streets of Brookhaven, but that doesn’t stop us from trying. If anything, it makes me want to drag him along more.
Because when Cain turned those sad, little-boy green eyes on me earlier, dimple popping in his jaw, hair a mess, something inside me cracked open.
Maybe it was the tequila, or maybe it’s just being around him tonight and seeing a softer, less guarded version of the man that I keep running into, but when I suggested it, this big, stoic guy looked at me like I’d just offered him something he’d never been given before. He lookedexcited.
And a world without Halloweens isn’t a world at all.
I’m not sure what Leo was so afraid of. After our last shot I told him what we were going to go do and he tugged onmy arm, leaned down, and whispered,“Don’t break his heart, Rhiannon.”
Since when did they become best friend? And why is Leo looking out for Cainand not me?
Maybe it’s because Leo knows I’m not the one who should be afraid here. Because somewhere between the lawsuits, the stolen boxers, and the tequila, this thing between us stopped being casual.
And despite that, I still have a guard on my heart. An urge to keep a little distance and not let him get too close. But looking at Cain’s smile, his big hand in mine as we walk the streets of my small-town, I’m not so sure Cain has that same guard in place on his anymore.
The first three times we ran into each other, I could blame it on fate. But the last few? That’s on him.
Driving to Brookhaven to return my wallet when he didn’t have to.
“Accidentally” crashing into my cleaning cart at a time of day when he’s never home.
Cain’s been finding me.Searching for me.
I squeeze his hand as we walk further down the sidewalk, toward the quiet suburbs that hug Brookhaven Lake. The air smells like wet leaves and pumpkin. Children dart between houses in superhero capes and fairy wings, their laughter echoing across the neighborhood. Porch lights glow like stars, and bowls of candy wait on steps.
Every few minutes, someone from town stops to say hi to me, their smiles familiar and always a little bit pitying, too. It’s mostly old friends of my parents who still track us from a distance or are curious about the man that I’m walking with.
I would normally care. I’d normally try to be more private and avoid the small talk and memories. But the alcohol that’s buzzing in my veins has me bolder than usual.
“And how’s the thrift store doing, dear?” Mrs. Ethel asks when we pause outside her lawn display of inflatable ghosts and a witch taller than her porch. Her nephew helped her set it all up last week, and I know she’s proud of it. In a few weeks, she’ll break out the Rudolph and Santa’s sleigh.
I paste on a smile, not wanting Cain to see the truth behind it. “We’re doing well. Eden and Gabriel just restored a gorgeous antique dresser that we’re selling. You’ll have to come by the store to see it.”
She brightens. “Oh, I’d love to buy it if I could.”
And I know she means that, but I also know she can’t. None of them can. Money in this town is tight, and people here don’t replace furniture, they inherit it.
Our biggest sales lately have come from out-of-towners who pass through on their way to Hartford or New York City. It’s not enough to sustain us forever, and that conversation with Gabriel looms over me like a dark cloud I keep pretending isn’t there.
When we finally stop walking, I realize we’ve made it all the way to my house. Cain glances at it, then back at me, smiling softly like he doesn’t want the night to end. His face looks different here, in this small-town glow. It’s lighter, somehow, more human. Like he’s let down his guard and isn’t thinking about work or his case load.
“I’m sorry I didn’t bring you your own candy bucket,” I tease.
