Page 185 of Tessa and Nash

“No,” Boone replies flatly. “It isn’t. If this whole thing with the Longs is some kind of setup⁠—”

“It isn’t,” I snap as I grab my jacket from the chair.

“Where are you going?” Boone asks.

“Town Hall.”

Dallas frowns. “Why?”

I pull the door open, not even thinking about what’s next. “Because I’m done pretending.”

I walk into Town Hall, already simmering with frustration, and it hits me all at once.

Word travels fast in Buckhorn, and now I’m standing in a room full of people who don’t care about my life, my plans, my family. They just want a show. And that’s what I’ve given them, isn’t it?

A show. A damn spectacle. The thought of it makes my skin crawl, but it’s too late now. There’s no taking it back.

But right now, I have no rationality to halt my impulsiveness at all.

I’m not thinking, just doing. The way I have done a lot in my life, even if it doesn’t ever turn out well…

Mayor Caldwell sits at the front table with the rest of the council, a stack of folders neatly arranged in front of her. Sheriff Carson leans against the back wall with his arms folded, scanning the room with the calm patience of a man used to watching other people make bad decisions. Virgil Tucker and Clara Jenkins sit in the second row, whispering to each other while what feels half the town settles in behind them.

They all look curious.

Some look annoyed.

A few look downright excited.

Buckhorn loves a spectacle.

Tessa isn’t in the room again. I wonder if that’s on purpose.

She’s probably working somewhere down the hall, buried in paperwork the way she’s been all week, pretending none of this mess exists.

My chest tightens at the thought.

That used to be my strategy too.

I walk toward the front of the room while the murmur of voices slowly fades. Boone and Dallas take seats near the side wall, both watching me with the cautious expressions of men who have absolutely no idea what I’m about to do.

Mayor Caldwell clears her throat.

“Mr. McCoy,” she says carefully. “You requested this meeting.”

“I did.”

Inside, everything feels wound tight enough to snap.

For the last few weeks, I’ve watched this town turn my life into a story that barely resembles reality. Every conversation on Main Street has become another theory about the land dispute, another guess about the engagement, another quiet judgment about what the McCoys or the Longs are trying to get away with.

The longer it drags on, the worse it gets.

And somewhere in the middle of all that noise sits the truth.

Ugly.

Complicated.