Page 226 of Tessa and Nash

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “I mean, what’s the rush?”

I look around the diner. The town’s so wrapped up in their own tiny little dramas, they barely notice us sitting here like we’ve got our lives figured out. I glance at Nash. He’s giving me that look. The one where he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” I murmur, a little quieter. “Having a moment where we’re not thinking about... well, everything.”

Nash’s eyes soften just a little. “Yeah. Feels like we’ve earned it.”

I give him a sideways glance. “You’re just taking advantage of the fact that I can’t resist a good cup of coffee.”

His grin widens. “I’ll take it.”

We keep nibbling on pastries and sipping coffee, both of us fully aware that this quiet is nothing more than the calm before the storm. Still, it feels good. A break from all the madness. But, of course, it doesn’t last.

I glance at the clock on the wall.

"Alright," I sigh, leaning back in my chair. "Time's up. Let's go see what fresh disaster the town’s cooked up this time."

Nash gives a long exhale like he’s just been handed a grenade and told to ‘deal with it.’ “I’m not sure whether to be more terrified of the meeting or the fact that I’ve spent the last two hours pretending nothing’s going to blow up.”

“Both. Definitely both.” I push my chair back, standing up and brushing off the crumbs from my jeans. “The moment we walk in there, the walls are going to start closing in, I can feel it already.”

He gets up too, running a hand through his hair, trying to make some sense of it all. "Let's just get this over with. It can't be worse than everything we've already been through."

“I don’t know, McCoy,” I say with a smirk. “There’s a lot to be said for a little bit of denial.”

We walk out of the diner, the cool March air hitting us hard. I pull my coat tighter, and Nash falls into step beside me, the same tense energy radiating from him that’s been with him all morning. Neither of us speaks on the walk to the town hall. It’s too heavy a moment, too full of unanswered questions.

So instead, we just walk, letting the familiar sights of Buckhorn pass by without a word.

When we arrive, the front doors are open wide, and I can hear the murmur of voices from inside. Buckhorn’s finest have all gathered, of course. This is a big deal. The kind of thing people will talk about for years. I can already feel the town’s collective gaze on us as we step into the room.

The gossip swirls as a storm cloud above our heads. People stare, whisper, and do that weird thing where they pretend they’re not watching but absolutely are. It’s like being in a fishbowl.

Inside, the council members are sitting at the long wooden table, the mayor standing at the front, looking like she’d rather be anywhere but here. I catch Nash's gaze, and I think I see a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. But he hides it quickly, slinging his jacket over the back of a chair and leaning into the meeting with ease.

I can’t help but admire that about him. Even when everything’s falling apart, Nash knows how to keep his cool. Mostly.

The mayor clears her throat, and suddenly, the room falls into silence. Everyone knows this is the moment. The decision, the final push to something new… or even worse.

“Alright, folks,” she starts. “We’ve had some time to think over the original proposal, and now we’ve come up with a revised plan. After hearing from all sides, taking everything into account, here’s where we stand.”

I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. This is it. This is the moment where the town of Buckhorn decides what happens next. The moment where we decide whether to keep fighting, or to take the only step forward that’s left.

The mayor continues, her voice carrying, filling the silence that’s taken over the room. “We’re looking at shared stewardship of the land. That means, instead of competing over it, both the McCoys and the Longs will work together to manage it, to make sure it’s preserved, used, and respected. It’s not just about land ownership anymore… it’s about responsibility.”

I blink, trying to process. Shared stewardship? What does that even look like? I glance at Nash, and I can tell he’s thinking the same thing. There’s no easy way to share control of a plan that’s been the point of so much division.

So much pride.

The mayor pauses, giving the crowd a moment to digest that. Then she adds, “And we’re proposing historical preservation zones to protect both families’ claims. These zones will ensure that the history of this town, the land, and the families who’ve shaped it, are preserved for future generations. It’s about recognizing that the McCoys and Longs both have deep roots here. That history is part of Buckhorn’s identity, and it can’t be erased.”

I feel a tightness in my chest. Preservation zones? That’s a fancy way of making sure no one can touch the land, but it’s also a way to ensure the past doesn’t die off. It’s about respect, something both families have been sorely lacking. We’ve fought over this land for decades, and now, we’re being asked to protect it together.

Historical preservation isn’t just a zoning issue. It’s personal. It’s about claiming our families’ past and accepting that we can’t rewrite it, no matter how badly we might want to. And there’s the shared stewardship part, too. I can already hear my uncle, how he’s going to hate it. He doesn’t want to share anything… especially not control.

Nash shifts beside me, and I glance over at him. His jaw is clenched, his eyes narrowed in thought. I can tell he’s processing every word, weighing the cost of this plan. Because the final part, the one that’s really going to matter, is coming. The mayor isn’t done yet.

“And, finally,” the mayor says, letting the words hang in the air, “we’re proposing a joint acknowledgment of the McCoy and Long family claims. That means both families will publicly recognize each other’s history, each other’s stake in this town. There won’t be any more pretending that one family is entitled to more than the other. We’ll be equals in this effort. And we’ll move forward as a community.”