Because I don’t let my past bleed onto innocent people.
Coyote Glen doesn’t deserve this, and nor does Aurora…
By midmorning, The Hollow starts doing what small-town places always do when something changes hands.
It fills up with opinions.
They come disguised as drink orders and casual hellos. People who haven’t set foot in a bar before noon suddenly find reasons to hang around. Coffee cups turn into beers. Beers turn into conversations that stop the second I look their way.
I’m wiping down the bar when the bell rings again.
Mayor Judith Hartwell walks in confidently. Same as she always does when she ‘pops in’ somewhere that isn’t technically hers but still falls under her watch.
She looks polished to the point of exhaustion. Tailored coat. Hair pulled back tight enough to sting. Her smile belongs on campaign flyers. Everything about her says control.
Her son trails in behind her with the eyes of a pissed-off teenager.
Beau Hartwell. Seventeen. All elbows and restless energy, skateboard tucked under one arm, notebook jammed into the pocket of his hoodie. He looks around the bar as if it’s a poem waiting to be written… or a system waiting to be dismantled.
Finn spots them first.
“Well, if it isn’t Coyote Glen royalty,” he says easily from behind the bar, grin already in place. “Mayor Hartwell. You slummin’ it with us today?”
Judith arches a perfectly shaped brow, but there’s a flicker of amusement there before she can stop it. “Judging by the crowd, Mr…?”
“Finn,” he supplies. “Just Finn. Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea? A scandal-free mimosa?”
I shoot him a look.
He ignores it.
She hesitates, just a beat too long to miss.
“One drink,” she says finally. “Something simple.”
Finn beams as if he’s just won a civic award. “You got it.”
She turns her attention to me while Finn works, eyes sharp but curious now that she’s decided to stay. “I thought I’d see the place for myself.”
I straighten, calm as I can be. “Mayor Hartwell.”
“Judith,” she corrects automatically, then pauses. “Jude. Everyone calls me Jude.”
Everyone except the people who don’t want to cross her.
“You settling in all right, Mr. Callahan?”
“So far,” I say. “Town’s been… welcoming.”
Behind her, Beau’s already wandered a few steps away, eyeing the pool table, the scarred wood, the way Zane’s leaning against the far wall nursing a coffee.
Zane catches my eye and gives me a subtle nod. He’s clocking everything. Exits, people, the mayor’s posture, Beau’s drifting attention. Same way I am.
Jude’s gaze flicks to the bar.
“Coyote Glen values quiet,” she says. “We don’t tolerate scandal. The Hollow’s always been a quiet place. It wasn’t meant for a lot of attention, even if it’s under new management."
“I don’t run a scandal,” I reply evenly. “Just a bar.”
