“June, that’s not fair. You know we love you.”
“Then how can you sell my home out from under me?” I’m shaking now, my free hand clenched into a fist at my side. “I thought, when you moved to Dallas, that you were giving me the house. That was the plan. That’s what we discussed.”
“Plans change, sweetheart. We’re in a difficult situation, and this deal solves everything. You can move to Dallas with us and start fresh. All your ties to that small town would be cut, and we’d help you build something new. You wouldn’t be alone.”
“You know I don’t want to move to Dallas!” The words burst out, and a few people nearby glance in my direction. I turn away, lowering my voice.
“The business will belong to someone else soon. You have to let it go.”
“That’s not—” I press my fingers to my temple, trying to think through the panic. “Can’t you just sell the business? Keep the house separate?”
“The buyer wants both. And honestly, June, the house is worth more than the business at this point. We need both sales to cover all the debts.”
“So I’m homeless,” I say flatly. “That’s what you’re telling me. I’m losing my business and my home in one fell swoop.”
“You’re not homeless. You’ll come live with us?—”
“I want to stay here, in the town I love, running the business I’ve poured my heart into for years.”
My mother sighs heavily. “June, please don’t be angry with us. We’re doing the best we can with an impossible situation. If your father and I end up on the street, we can’t help anyone.”
“Then move back here.” I’m grasping at straws and I know it. “Both of you. Live in the house, help me run the business. We could make it work.”
“We’ve outgrown that town, sweetie. And moving back doesn’t solve the debt problem. We’d still owe the money, and soon.”
I’m silent, tears pricking at my eyes. Everything I’ve worked for. Everything I’ve built. Gone.
“Who’s the buyer?” I ask, keeping my voice level through sheer force of will.
“What?”
“Who’s buying the business and the house?” My throat tightens. I swallow hard, like I can push the panic back down if I do it fast enough. “Do I at least get to know that?”
There’s a small pause on the line. I blink hard, staring at the dirt by my sneakers, willing the sting behind my eyes to behave.
“A local man,” she says finally as if she’s trying to remember who it is. “Holden Pierce. And he works for the town committee.”
The world stops.
Holden.
Fuck.
The sound in my ears goes hollow, like the arena noise has been turned down to nothing. Holden Pierce, the financial director with his too-clean spreadsheets and his polite littlequestions in meetings. I see him so clearly it makes me sick. The way he’d linger after committee sessions, hands shoved in his pockets, asking me how Sweetwater Creek Realty was doing. Whether business stayed lucrative through winter. If I was managing all the listings on my own. I always laughed it off. Thought he was awkward and trying to be friendly in that stiff, numbers-guy way.
And now he’s buying my home, my business, my entire life like it’s a neat little acquisition he can file away and feel proud of.
My jaw locks. Anger flares hot enough to burn the tears right back for a second. What the hell does he need it for? And where did he get the money? The last time I saw Holden, he was still renting that sad little place at the edge of town, still showing up to meetings with coffee stains on his sleeve like he couldn’t even keep himself together. This doesn’t make sense.
“June?” my mom says, sharper now. “Sweetheart, are you still there?”
I open my mouth, and nothing comes out except a breath that sounds wrong. My ribs start to hurt, like my body is trying to hold everything inside and it’s failing.
“I have to go,” I manage, and my voice cracks on the last word.
“June—”
“I’ll call you later.” I don’t even wait for her answer. I stab the screen and end the call before she can hear me break.
