Chapter 9: Regan
“Weird energy,” Rae mutters, shrugging as the hospital room door closes shut behind Hayes and his nurse.?
Weird doesn’t even begin to cover it.
I sink back against the hospital bed, closing my eyes as I take a deep, steadying inhale.
What the hell just happened?
My mind races, trying to piece together reality from… whatever that was. Maybe it’s the weed that’s still messing with my brain. Maybe I hallucinated the whole thing. Hayes Walker, the man that I spent one reckless night with years ago while I was determined to forget after the devastating news I received on my twenty-third birthday, is now working as a doctor in Whitewood Creek.
It doesn’t make sense. Itcan’tmake sense. The world isn’t that small, right?
I shake my head, smiling faintly at the absurdity of it all.
“You two can go. I’m fine now. I’m just going to fall asleep anyways.” I tell my friends.
“Absolutely not,” Lydia says firmly, crossing her arms. Rae nods in agreement from the chair by the window.
I sigh, letting their words fade as they chat more eagerly now about plans for this summer and Rae and Cash’s upcoming wedding.
Sleep pulls me under, and of course, I dream about him. But it isn’t a dream about that first night we met. No, in this dream, I’m back at Mrs. Mayberry’s house, walking through the sprawling property, trying to convince her to sell me the place so I can turn it into the wedding venue of my dreams. The wildflowers that cover North Carolina in the summertime are stretched across the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains in the distance and my hand is clutching the small hand of a child’s.
But Hayes is there too for some unknown reason. His strong arms are wrapped around me, his maddeningly handsome face is smiling, and the way he looks at me is like he knows every secret I’ve ever kept. And one, of the most painful ones I’ve ever had. The one I told himon a night when I thought I had nothing to lose and would never see him again.
***
The next morning, I wake up back in my bed at my childhood home where I’ve lived my entire life. This morning, I have a slight bruise on my forehead and a whole lot of clarity because now it’s time for project:convince Mrs. Mayberry to sell me her home despite not being married.
I’m not sure how I’m going to pull this off. Okay, fine, I have no plan at all, but Ihaveto make it work. That house, that land, it’smy future. My dream. Maybe the fall on my head has given me some fresh inspiration because I know without a doubt it’s what I want.
It’s what Ineed.
The joy of making other people’s happily-ever-after’s a reality, the joy of having a business that I started on my own to contribute to the family conglomerate. That’s all I’ve ever dreamed about.
And yeah, I know marriage and babies aren’t for everyone. Plenty of people live fulfilling lives without them. And if I’m not going to have that, then I get the next best thing: I get to make it happen for other people.
Determined, I wake up early, listening to my brother’s advice to take a day off work after yesterday’s fall. I hop on my bike barefoot, wearing a simple white, loose fitting, cotton dress that’s seen better days but still feels like home. The hem flutters in the breeze as I pedal across my family’s property toward the Mayberry’s fields that connect with ours.
The ride isn’t long—just a couple of miles—and I don’t mind it after the soreness that hangs in my limbs. The spring sun is warm against my skin, and the scent of wildflowers drifts in the air. It’s impossible not to think back to my childhood while doing this, sneaking over to the Mayberry’s when no one knew where I was. Catching fireflies in jars under a blanket of stars, sailing in the old, white, wooden swing that stills hang from their massive oak tree.
Colt used to come find me and try to drag me back home. I’d always dare him to take a swim in the pond first. Most of the time, he’d give in, and we’d splash around until Mrs. Mayberry came out, yelling at us for tracking mud everywhere but smiling like she enjoyed it just as much.
Those memories feel so far away now.
I pedal harder, trying not to think too much about how the future of the Mayberry property feels tangled up in my own future. I justneedto find a way to buy the land.
Maybe I need a husband, or a business partner at least. Maybe I’ll swallow my pride and let Colt and Molly purchase it instead. It’d sting, sure, but at least it’d stay in the family. Cash and Rae aren’t married yet, Lawson’s still single, and Troy… Well, he’s in Raleigh with his wife Georgia most of the time now, running the state as governor and raising a new baby. He’s done more than enough for us already I couldn’t ask for another favor.
No, this is on me to figure out this time. The Mayberry house is going to be mine. One way or another.
The only solution I could come up with last night was calling my ex-boyfriend—the one whose proposal I turned down just last week—and telling him I’ll marry him after all. But that feels too fucked up. He wants love, and I want convenience. And I’m not heartless and definitely not cruel enough to do that to someone.
When Declan unexpectedly proposed a few weeks ago, I froze. Right there in the middle of his kitchen, holding a half-full glass of sweet tea, staring at the man I’d been dating on and off for only a few months.
To his credit, it wasn’t some big, dramatic gesture. No diamond ring, no candlelit dinner, no audience. My family wasn’t there—thank God—and honestly, it all made sense considering who Declan is. A workhorse of a man who spends most of his life elbow-deep in leaky pipes for Whitewood Creek Plumbing. I doubt he even mentioned it to anyone beforehand.
He works for Rhett Miller, my sister-in-law Molly’s old friend from her trailer park days, who now owns the fastest-growing plumbing company in two counties. With Rhett expandinghis business further out of Whitewood Creek, Declan’s been working even longer hours, coming home later, and somehow getting quieter.
