Page 22 of Tessa and Nash

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Penny Tucker says from two stools down, turning toward me with a grin that’s way too bright. “If it isn’t Buckhorn’s most eligible fiancé.”

I choke on my drink. “That was fast.”

She laughs. “Small town. You should know better by now.”

Before I can respond, Becca Haskins appears at my elbow. She’s dressed up, hair curled, eyes shining.

“Congratulations,” she says, a little breathless. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

“Uh… yeah,” I say, which is not an answer at all.

Tommy Greene lifts his beer in my direction from the high top where he’s standing with Laura Tucker. Laura’s tucked into his side, smiling gleefully.

“Didn’t see that one coming,” Tommy says.

Laura laughs. “None of us did.”

Sheriff Tate Carson raises his glass from the corner booth. “Guess that means we won’t be seeing you around here as much, huh?”

The questions start stacking up faster than I can dodge them.

“Who is she?”

“How long’s it been?”

“Is she from Buckhorn?”

“When’s the wedding?”

I do what I always do. Grin, shrug, deflect.

“She’s… great,” I say.

“It’s still new.”

“No date yet.”

Half-truths wrapped in charm. The old routine.

I knock back the rest of my whiskey and signal for another, my pulse still racing as if I’m mid-freefall. This is worse than dinner. At least my family knows me well enough to sense when I’m lying. These people just want a story.

And I can feel it slipping out of my hands. Every version already mutating. Every detail I don’t give being replaced with one someone else will.

Becca watches me over the rim of her glass, disappointment flickering across her face before she smooths it away. Penny is clearly already planning who to tell next.

I take a long drink, letting the burn settle in my chest.

Maybe this was a mistake.

Maybe I should’ve told the truth back at the table.

Maybe…

The bar door swings open.

Cold rushes in, slicing through the warmth and noise.

I feel it before I see anything.