Chapter Twenty-Four

Boone

Yeah, I had forgotten how quickly word spread around Magnolia Grove.

Normally, there were rumors that flew around town like wildfire, but this time it was the truth. I was Nash Hanes' dad. His last name still irked me a little, but that was something he could change if he ever wanted to. The name wasn't the important part, anyway—it was the fact that I was his father, and everyone knew it now.

I'd stopped by the hardware store yesterday just to grab a couple of things I needed for some work around the house, and the second I walked in, the place went dead quiet. So quiet you could've heard a mouse fart. It was like that everywhere I went—sideways glances, hushed whispers, and those awkward moments where people weren't sure whether they should say something to me or not. I wasn't exactly a stranger to Magnolia Grove, but this felt different.

A couple of folks had come up to talk, mostly to congratulate me or make some half-hearted comment about how "life sure has its surprises." But most of them just kept their distance, like I was walking around with a flashing sign over my head.

I almost wanted to rent one of those planes that fly banners behind them with a message that said, Yeah, I'm Nash's dad. Move on, people. It felt like the only way to stop the staring, but even I had to admit that might be a bit over the top.

Dolly had messaged me a couple of times since that night Nash and I watched Top Gun: Maverick together. Each time, it was short and to the point, and it was always about Nash. His schedule, an update on his broken arm, a quick confirmation that she'd drop him off tonight for dinner. No small talk, no lingering questions about how I was doing with all this—just business.

I shook my head and pulled three chicken breasts from the fridge and set them on the counter. Yeah, I was going to cook the meal Dolly had shown me how to make. At this point, I was a one-trick pony when it came to dinner, but at least I wasn't ordering takeout every night anymore.

The more time that passed, the less angry I felt toward Dolly. Maybe time was softening the edges of my frustration, or maybe it was just that I had come to understand her reasons better. At the core of it, she really thought she was doing the right thing by not telling me about Nash. It didn't make it hurt any less, but I got it. She'd been trying to protect me from a life she thought I didn't want, and maybe back then, I wouldn't have been ready.

But now? I couldn't imagine not wanting to be part of Nash's life. That kid was smart, funny, and had a whole lot of heart. I could see a little more of myself in him—not just in the way he looked, but in the way he thought, the way he questioned things. He was sharp, just like his mom, but he had this quiet intensity about him that reminded me of me when I was younger.

I knew Dolly had been crying the night Nash and I watched the movie. She'd locked herself in the bathroom and hadn't come out. I didn't push her on it, though. I was stuck in this tough spot between them—Nash, rightfully angry and hurt, and Dolly, who had done what she thought was best, even if it wasn't. I understood why Nash was upset, but I also understood where Dolly was coming from. And somewhere in the middle of all that was me, trying to figure out how to make it work with both of them.

I looked down at the chicken.

And tonight was going to be the start of me building a bridge between them.