We’re not just two people raising a child together.
We’re standing on the same side of something bigger.
Something worth fighting for.
42
Laney
The town hall smells like coffee, old wood, and nervousness.
Every chair is full.
People line the walls, arms folded, shoulders tense. A few stand near the back doors like they might bolt if the news gets worse.
Miller sits in the front row.
His hat rests in his hands, the brim twisting slowly beneath his fingers as he stares at the floor like he personally failed the entire town.
The mayor clears his throat.
“Thank you all for coming on such short notice.”
Low murmurs ripple through the room.
“This is about the rebuilding permits,” someone calls out.
“And the insurance,” another voice adds.
“And the bank,” someone else says from the back.
That gets everyone’s attention.
The mayor nods grimly.
“Yes. All of it.”
Saint sits beside me, one arm resting along the back of my chair.
He isn’t touching me.
But he’s close enough that the warmth of him steadies something in my chest.
“They’ve been appealed,” the mayor continues. “By a company called Northstar Development Group. Until the appeal is resolved, the funds are frozen.”
“Who are they?” Miller asks, lifting his head.
“Out of state,” the mayor replies. “Registered in Delaware.”
Groans spread across the room.
“This is just paperwork,” someone says. “It’ll clear up.”
The mayor doesn’t look convinced.
“There’s more,” he says.
The room goes still.
