Page 30 of Dream Chaser

At 27, Preston Marshall is seeking to become the youngest mayor in Millford’s history. A 2017 graduate of Millford High School, Marshall said he decided to run because he believes the town is at a “turning point.”

“This campaign isn’t about my age,” Marshall said in an interview at Marshall Public Library, which was founded by his great-grandfather, Luke Marshall “It’s about values, leadership, and making sure Millford is prepared for the next decade.”

A Familiar Face in Town

For many Millford residents, the Marshall name is a familiar one. Preston Marshall is the son of former Mayor Kevin Marshall, who served the town for twenty-five years before his death at age sixty.

After earning a degree in economics from Emerport University, Marshall returned to his hometown. He said the decision was driven by a desire to invest in the community where he grew up.

“Big cities don't hold the same appeal for me as Millford does,” Marshall said. “I want to make a difference here by supporting our youth and ensuring our seniors have the resources they need. In today's fast-paced world, it's easy to lose sight of what matters most: family, community, and the values that bring people together.”

More pictures showed him at a local nursing home, a school football game, and a farmers’ market. Nova stood by his side, her smile tense, her gaze empty while he grinned at the camera, his arm slung around her shoulders.

So, he was likely the husband.

I rubbed a hand over my face. She didn’t look happy, but what the fuck did I know about her other than the fact she was great at her job, talented, and responsible?

Against my better judgment, I searched Preston Marshall.

His Instagram profile was public, probably because it served his political career to show he had nothing to hide. Or pretend he didn’t.

The feed was full of pictures—him fishing with a bunch of older guys, him in his office. I went to the ones he was tagged in.

I skipped the videos of him with his buddies and opened one of Nova standing beside a white three-tier cake in her wedding dress. She looked breathtaking in white lace, and I hated myself for noticing how it traced the graceful lines of her body. How the neckline dipped, hinting at cleavage. How her bare shoulders glistened in the dim light.

Music played. People cheered. Flushed, she glanced at whoever was filming with the same timid smile I already knew.

Then her new husband grabbed the back of her neck and shoved her face into the cake.

Whistles. Cheers. Laughter. Nova staggered back, blinking, her jaw trembling as she scraped icing from her face. Someone else, not her fucking husband, handed her a tissue.

“Hijo de la gran. . .” I jerked forward, sending the empty tumbler rolling across the rug.

My neck heated. Not from alcohol—from rage. Why the fuck would he do that to her?

On the screen, he fist-pumped the air while Nova was still trying to clean the sticky mess, rubbing the napkin across her cheeks.

I slammed the laptop shut. Took a few deep breaths. Opened it again.

She was the next person I looked up. Her personal profile was set to private, but there was a feature about her in the town’s newspaper, dated almost seven years ago.

A photography contest. She stood beside a framed photograph of the woods, radiant and fucking happy. Nothing like the woman in that godawful video I’d pay to erase from my mind.

Was she still with him? Was he the one picking her up at the airport tonight?

If he had so little regard for her beautiful hair and makeup that he didn’t hesitate to ruin it on her fucking wedding day, would he even bother to show up?

If he didn’t, it meant she’d waited there alone before finding her own way home.

I picked up my phone. My thumb hovered over the call button, but my self-restraint won.

I was her boss. I couldn’t meddle, much less ask her if she’d lied about someone taking her home.

But God, I wanted to.

CHAPTER TEN

Nova