“Well, that was interesting...” Mrs. Mayberry trails off, chuckling softly as she turns toward the front steps of her home. She wobbles slightly, and I reach out to steady her, guiding her up and inside.
“Thank you, dear,” she says, patting my hand with a fond smile as we cross the threshold. “You know, I don’t know what kind of past you and Regan have—or if there even is a past—but I can tell you one thing about that young woman.” She settles into a worn armchair inside the living room, sighing as if the weight of the world’s been lifted from her shoulders. “Regan loves fiercely. The people she cares about, the things she sets her mind to will always take priority in her life. She’s a dreamer, yes, but she’s also a hard worker. And she loves this land. Always has. She used to come here as a little girl and just talk to me. It’s like growing up in that house full of boys no one really saw her or listened to her feelings. She’d ramble on about fairies, and puppies and all the things she loved at that moment. It was always changing like the seasons. I used to love listening to it since I never had any children of my own.”
I nod as I watch her, realizing this may mean more to both of them than I’d realized.
“Owning it, managing the farm, running her own business with the wedding venue—it’s all she’s ever wanted. Something of herown, you know? Something that sets her apart from the rest of the Marshall kids.”
Her words hit me hard, dredging up a memory I’d buried years ago. Regan, during that night we first met, lying beside me in the dark, whispering about her dreams and hopes for the future. How she felt trapped in her brothers’ shadows. How she wanted her own business, her own family, her own life. And this farm... this must be it. This is what she’s been chasing all these years.
A prick of guilt slides down my spine, sharp and unwelcome. I shake it off quickly because, in the end, I’m not the one standing in her way. I’m not taking this dream from her. I have no reason to feel guilt. She has to get married just as much as I do if she wants to buy the land.
“She’s a catch, you know,” Mrs. Mayberry continues, her voice softer now. “Everyone in town loves her. Her boyfriend just proposed, actually.”
My head snaps up. “What?” I growl. The sound escapes before I can stop it. That’s… interesting. Because if her boyfriend proposed, why wasn’t she wearing an engagement ring?
And yes, I checked.
Again.
So, did she turn him down? Or is she planning to rush into a wedding now to secure the property? That thought has me worried.
“I think you two have more in common than you realize,” Mrs. Mayberry adds, her tone sly like she’s enjoying stirring the pot.
She leans back in her chair and closes her eyes with a satisfied sigh. “Close the door on your way out, would you, dear? And I hope to hear from you with some good news soon, Hayes.”
I stand there for a moment, staring at her as she drifts off, her words settling over me like a challenge I didn’t ask for but can’t seem to ignore. Time to figure some shit out.
Chapter 11: Regan
“I can’t believe that” Molly says, shaking her head in disbelief as she swirls the water in her glass casually. Her fingers clutch the cup tightly, and the soft clink of ice against the sides fills the pause after I just unloaded on my friends everything that happened earlier today at the Mayberry Manor.
Molly’s only a month or two along in her pregnancy but she’s not showing yet, and the town doesn’t know, so I’ve made her a simple water with lime to distract any nosey patrons who might be eaves dropping on our conversation tonight.
“I can,” Lydia chimes in from the seat next to her at the bar. She tips her Sprite toward her lips as I lean over the counter to top it off.
Lydia never drinks, which is ironic considering how much time she spends at my family’s bar, keeping me company while I work or indulging in her favorite pastime—talking to people in our small town about every topic she can think of. She’sthe friendliest person I’ve ever met, and maybe that’s because she has to be. Being the reverend’s daughter comes with expectations: constant goodness, endless grace, and a bubbly personality. I can only imagine the weight of that kind of scrutiny.
“Mrs. Mayberry is always into something,” Lydia adds with a knowing smile. “You should hear the stories she tells when we’re folding programs before Sunday service.”
I sigh, pressing my elbows into the worn oak of the bar top and my head in my hands. It’s a packed Thursday night, and despite having plenty of staff working, I volunteered to help. Not because we’re shorthanded. No, I’m here because I’m sad. So damn sad about everything. And if I wasn’t pouring drinks, I’d be on the other side of the bar, drowning in them. Though, let’s be honest, I’m halfway there anyway.
I reach under the counter, grab a shot glass, and slam it down on the wood. Filling it with what’s left of our holiday whiskey—the kind we only bring out for Christmas despite it being spring now—I knock it back in one smooth, desperate motion. The burn sears its way down, and I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
“I’m just so disappointed.”
Molly nods, her face a mix of sympathy and helplessness. “We know,” she says softly. “We’re sorry, babe. Seriously, this sucks.” There’s a pause, and I already know what’s coming next. I can see it in the way she hesitates, like she doesn’t want to say it and knows I’m going to hate it, but feels obligated to anyway. “Are you sure you don’t want Colt and me to step in and buy it for you?”
I bite down on my lip, hard enough to draw a tiny bead of blood that I quickly lick away. I’ve got one week—one measly week—to figure out how to buy that property without getting married. If I can’t, it’ll go to some random couple from Charlotte, and that thought twists my gut. It’s the worst-case scenario, though letting Colt and Molly buy it because I can’t isn’t much better. Still, if it came down to them or strangers who don’t love the land the way I do, I’d choose them. I respect them, I love them, and I know they’d do it for me without hesitation. But the idea feels like giving up and I’m not ready to quit just yet.
I groan, resting my forehead in my palm. “I have a week... just give me a week, please.”
Molly leans over, her piercing blue eyes softening as she pats my hand. “You know I love you, right? You’re my sister, and I would do anything for you and your happiness.”
I nod. “I know.”
Her phone buzzes on the bar, breaking the moment. She flips it over, and my twin brother’s face lights up the screen. Her lips curl into a smile as she swipes to answer. “Hey, baby... Oh, you’re done already? Okay, I’ll be there in fifteen.”
She hangs up, sliding her phone back into her bag before turning to me. “Do you mind closing out my tab?”
