Chapter Thirty

Dolly

I needed to leave.

Sitting in this room surrounded by half the town felt like being a caged animal at the zoo. I could feel their eyes on me and the stares were thick with pity. Everyone knew Boone wasn't here. It was like they were waiting to see what I'd do.

The rows of chairs in the high-ceilinged library were filled, and the soft murmurs of conversation barely masked the sound of my own heart pounding. The pies had been auctioned off for around twenty bucks a piece—nothing too exciting.

It was one thing to deal with the gossip at the store. I could manage the whispers behind my back, the side-eyed glances when people thought I couldn't see them. But sitting here, in the middle of the room, in front of everyone? This was something else. I felt trapped, and I couldn't handle it.

Boone wasn't coming.

I'd known that deep down, but I'd tried to tell myself otherwise. Tried to hold on to some kind of hope that he'd walk through those doors and be the man I needed him to be. But he wasn't here. And now, all I could feel was regret. I had pushed him away years ago, told him to go live his life, and now, when I wanted him—needed him—he wasn't here.

I glanced back at Nash, who was sitting with his friends toward the rear of the room. Thankfully, he was oblivious to the fact that I was in the middle of a silent breakdown. He was laughing at something one of the boys had said, carefree and happy. I didn't want to drag him through the heartache I was drowning in. So, I smiled at him even though my chest was tight, and my throat felt like it was closing up.

The auctioneer's voice cut through the chatter and pulled me back into the moment. "Next up, we have a buttermilk pie baked by Dolly Hanes."

I felt my stomach twist.

That pie.

I had made it for Boone.

Nobody else knew that, of course, but the knowledge felt like a heavy weight in my chest. I forced a smile onto my face as a few people turned to glance my way. I nodded, pretending like I wasn't about to fall apart. Pretend like Boone's absence didn't feel like a slap in the face.

The auctioneer started the bidding, his voice rising with each number.

"Five dollars," someone called out.

"Seven!" another person added.

It went up slowly, inching along. "Nine dollars," the auctioneer announced, glancing around for more interest.

My heart sank further with every passing second. It wasn't about the money, not really, but seeing that pie— his pie—being sold off like any other dessert made my chest ache. I'd baked it thinking of him, hoping he'd be here to bid on it and to share some kind of moment between us. But now, it was just another item on the list. Something to be crossed off and forgotten.

"Seventeen dollars," the auctioneer called, his tone losing a bit of its enthusiasm as the bidding stalled.

My palms were sweaty, and I rubbed them against my thighs, trying to steady myself. I needed to get out of here. I couldn't keep sitting in this room and pretend like everything was fine when it was anything but. I started to shift in my seat, ready to stand up and make some excuse to leave.

And then I heard it.

"One thousand dollars," a voice called out from the back of the room.

I froze.

I knew that voice.

My heart stuttered in my chest as the room went silent, and every head turned to look toward the back. I didn't need to look. I knew who it was.

It was Boone.

The auctioneer's face lit up, practically bouncing in place. "One thousand dollars!" he repeated, his voice brimming with excitement. "Do I hear more?"

But Boone wasn't done.

"But," Boone added, his voice loud and clear, "only if I get the baker, too. And my son."

Oh my god.

The room erupted in whispers and gasps. Everyone turned to stare between Boone and me. I kept my eyes forward and refused to look at him. Refused to acknowledge the stunned looks on people's faces. My pulse raced in my ears, and I couldn't breathe.

This had to be a dream.

The auctioneer stammered, caught off guard by Boone's words. "Uh, one thousand dollars, ladies and gentlemen! For the pie... the baker and her son?"

I could hear the confusion in his voice, like he wasn't sure whether to take Boone seriously or not. But Boone wasn't joking. I knew that. This was his way of making a statement, of telling me—and everyone else—that he wasn't going anywhere this time.

The room stayed quiet for a few long, agonizing seconds, and then I heard his boots heavy on the library's tile floor. Each step felt like a challenge, like he was daring me to turn around, daring me to face him.

I didn't.

Not yet.

He stopped when he was next to me. I could feel his presence beside me, but I still couldn't look at him.

"Dolly," he said, his voice softer now, meant just for me. "I'm home, honey."

I closed my eyes, swallowing against the lump in my throat. I didn't know what to say. I wanted to scream at him for not being here sooner, for making me feel like I was alone in all of this. But more than that, I wanted to collapse into his arms and let him make everything okay again.

"I'm sorry," he added, his voice breaking through the fog in my mind. "I should've been here earlier, but I'm here now."

I finally turned to look at him. His eyes were steady and filled with something I hadn't let myself believe he still felt for me. His jaw was tight, like he was holding back more than he was saying, but the message was clear.

He wasn't leaving. Not again.

"I made that pie for you," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the buzz of the crowd.

He smirked. "I know." He held his hand out to me and pulled me up to stand in front of him.

I shook my head, feeling the emotions I'd been holding back start to bubble up to the surface. "You didn't have to do this," I said, gesturing toward the crowd. "You didn't have to make a scene."

Boone's smile widened just a fraction. "Figured if I do it this way, there won't be any more rumors. No more secrets. Just promises."

I let out a shaky laugh, unable to help it. Of course, he'd come storming in like this, making sure everyone knew exactly where he stood.

"I don't care about the pie," he said, stepping closer. "I care about you. About Nash. And I'm not going to let anything push me away this time."

I stared at him. I wasn't sure what to say, how to respond to something I'd wanted to hear for so long but had been too afraid to hope for.

"That's my dad," I heard Nash say loudly.

My heart swelled hearing Nash call Boone dad.

Boone had heard it, too. He closed his eyes for a second and opened them with unshed tears shining in them.

"I love you, Boone West."

"And I love you, Dolly Hanes. I never stopped all of these years."

Before I could say anything, the auctioneer cleared his throat and moved to stand next to us. "So, uh... one thousand dollars?" he asked, glancing between us.

Boone nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "One thousand dollars," he repeated, "for the baker and my son."

The crowd erupted into laughter and cheers, and I could feel my face flush with heat, but for once, it wasn't from embarrassment. It was something else, something that felt like relief, like hope. Maybe, just maybe, Boone was right.

The secret was out, and we were ready for the promise of forever.