She looked at me, eyes rimmed with unshed frustration. Or exhaustion. Or both.
“I don’t know what his game is,” she whispered. “I can’t figure out what he wants, other than to be number one, or whatever.”
“I don’t care what he wants. He won’t get it, whatever it is,” I told her. “But if he tries to hurt you, or make your life harder, I won’t just stand by.”
She blinked fast. “You don’t have to protect me.”
I met her gaze, steady and unwavering. “I know you can handle him,” I said, voice low. “But I want you to know you’re not alone in this, not now, not with me around.”
Her breath hitched. She turned away slightly, like she didn’t want me to see how much that meant. I stood there, watching her steady herself, knowing that I would come back again and again, for as long as it took.
She turned back, calmer now.
“I’m glad you stopped by,” she said softly.
“I’ll always come for you,” I said.
And I meant it.
She huffed out a breath and rested her hands on the counter, bracing herself like she was holding up more than just her own weight.
“Do you think he’ll try something?” she asked, her voice low and tight. “I don’t know what to think anymore, and I hate it.”
I didn’t answer right away. Not because I didn’t have thoughts—oh, I had plenty—but because she wasn’t really asking for strategy. She was asking for reassurance.
“I think,” I said carefully, “he’s used to getting his way. And it’s throwing him off that you’re not staying quiet and letting him run the show.”
She gave a dry laugh. “You mean like I used to?”
“I mean,” I said, leaning in slightly, “that he’s underestimating you. Which would be a mistake.”
Her mouth twitched. “You really think that?”
I nodded. “I know it.”
There was a pause. “I just…” She looked out past me. “I don’t want him to mess with the Pennywhistle. Or you. Especially not because of me.”
“That won’t happen.”
“You can’t know that.”
I reached across the counter, not quite touching her hand but close enough that she could see I meant it. “You’ve built something real in Honeybrook Hollow, Eliza. Nobody gets to take that from you—not him, not anyone.” I watched her shoulders relax, and I knew my words were sinking in. “Whatever happens, we've got this. Together.”
“Are you sure? I can’t help but think?—”
“I know myself,” I said. “And I know I’m not afraid of him. But if that doesn’t help—I also know my grandmother, and nobody messes with her. And your sisters were pretty fierce at the grand opening. Just saying.”
Her eyes searched mine, like she was looking for a crack in the promise. She didn’t find one.
I kept my voice low as I continued. “You’re not responsible for what he does, Eliza. And I can handle it if he tries anything. So can the Pennywhistle. Its reputation is bigger than mine. I’m not worried.”
Her brow furrowed. “He can be petty. And vindictive?—”
“I could tell, I think he invited me to his grand opening knowing you’d be there and hoping he could make me jealous or something. I guess he didn’t think we’d show up together.”
She sighed. “Yeah, he likes to get his way. He doesn’t want me back and I made it extremely clear when I left Portland that I never wanted to speak to him again—ever. I don’t know why he keeps coming around.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want anyone else to have you. Some men are like that. Who knows? But, it doesn’t matter. The Taste-Off is your chance to let him know, once and for all, that you’re not the same person he messed with before. After you beat his ass, then he’ll see. And if that doesn’t make him back off, then I will. If I can beat Piper and Paige to it, that is.”
