"I don't know why I had to come to this."

I grunt, crossing my arms over my chest as I glance around the room. Town Hall is packed to the brim today, either because of the snow steadily starting to fall outside from the snowstorm about to come through or because everyone's nosy enough to want answers about why certain businesses have been closing early. Is this town really that small that we care this much about a few places shutting their doors before five?

"Because you broke your promise," Della whispers from the folding chair beside me.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I grumble.

"You don't know what I'm—" Della cuts off mid-sentence as Mrs. Perkins shuffles down the aisle toward us.

She leans in as she passes, bringing a wave of her overbearing floral perfume with her. I fight the urge to grimace as she whispers, all hushed and conspiratorial, "Your mama's cranberry scones were just incredible. Huge hit at the baby shower."

Della flashes her a sweet smile. I press my lips together in what I hope passes for one. Behind us, where Shep had to sit because we got here late and missed out on a row big enough for all four of us, I'm sure he's giving her that easy, charming smile of his. Porter leans his elbow on his knees, too concerned with listening to whatever Elwood is saying to even notice that Mrs. Perkins is still halfway standing in front of him.

"I'll let her know," Della whispers back, then turns to me the second Mrs. Perkins finds a seat at the end of the aisle. "You keep breaking your promises. You agreed you'd help with the guests while they were here so Shep wasn't hitting on them, and then—"

"And then you told me I wasn't allowed to be around them anymore. I didn't break any promise."

"Will you two hush?" Shep's head pops between us, a bag of popcorn in hand—the popcorn they started handing out last year when everyone started complaining about these town meetings dragging on too long. "I can't hear Mable's theory on why the library and post office keep closing early at the exact same time every day."

Della glances over her shoulder, visibly annoyed, before turning forward again, arms crossing tight over her chest.

I lean over, keeping my voice low. "And I don't remember agreeing to any promises, anyway."

Her head jerks toward me, eyes narrowing. "You don't remem—" She cuts herself off when Shep's boot kicks the back of her chair, a warning. Her voice was getting too loud. She huffs,  leaning closer to whisper sharply, "You promised me you'd stay away from Ellis. Keep your distance."

"I am keeping my distance."

Della throws me a glare. "Oh, really? So what was that earlier in the stables? That was you keeping your distance? Standing an inch from her face?"

"She was in Tex's stall," I grumble.

"And the other day? When you picked her up off Honey, and she was straddling you? Was that keeping your distance?"

I grunt, shifting further into my seat. "She needed help."

"And last night? At Rooney's? When your tongue was down her throat?"

My head snaps to hers. "How do you even—"

"Don't think I don't know about that," she whisper-yells at me. "Half the town knows about it, Rhett. You made out with her at The Tipsy Cow. On the first snowfall of the season. On a Friday. In Cottonwood." She ticks off each detail on her fingers. "Of course I know about it. Honestly, I'm surprised Estella didn't slap public indecency on the agenda for today's town meeting." She pauses, glancing down at the pamphlet they handed us when we walked in. "Shit, maybe she did."

She starts scanning the list of discussion topics, and I snatch it from her hands, shaking my head as I glance around to make sure no one's heard her. Everyone seems to be absorbed in Mabel's library post office theory.

"I also remember you promising to apologize to her. You know, for whatever it is you're so damn secretive about from that summer. For whatever you did that's got her looking at you like she'd rather be anywhere else but here." I make a low, grumbly sound in the back of my throat, pulling my hat off and settling it on my knee. She sure didn't seem to want to be anywhere else when she was grinding against me. "I don't recall seeing any apologizing happening. Unless sticking your tongue down her throat counts as that."

"I never promised to apologize to anyone," I mutter.

"Shush." Shep hisses, a piece of popcorn flying out from between his teeth and landing somewhere between us. Della slowly turns to him, more annoyed than before, her gaze flicking from his face to the rogue kernel now resting on her shoulder. "I can't hear with you two bickering so much. Mable's—"

"It's because Emma and Jack are sleeping together," Della blurts out, flicking the kernel back at him. It hits him square on the cheek just as she reaches to swipe his bag of popcorn.

Shep wipes the kernel away and visibly deflates, shoulders sinking as if he didn't actually want to know the real reason. He was enjoying the mystery of it. "How do you know that?"

Della leans back slightly, dipping her hand into the popcorn bag, lowering her voice. "I saw Jack sneaking out of Emma's office window at the library last Tuesday when I was driving into town." Shep raises a brow. "Fell right into the winterberry bushes in nothing but his boxers and a handful of post office uniform."

We sit through the rest of Mabel's speech about implementing strict business hours across Cottonwood, arguing that if shop owners don't adhere to them, a committee should be formed to enforce the rules. This all started because the book she'd been on the waiting list for at the library was finally ready for pickup, but when she showed up, the doors had been locked early without warning. When she finally wraps up, and they move on to the next agenda item about the fishing spot over by Diamond Creek, I turn toward Della.

"I didn't mean for it to happen," I grumble, tilting my head back to stare at the wooden rafters. I give it a shake, trying to rattle loose the words Ellie threw at me back at the stables.

I'd been short with her, and she'd jabbed back with those sharp little words of hers. She was irritated, annoyed that she had to see me again, and damn if I didn't feel every syllable sink deeper than I wanted to admit.

I was her mistake. And all I wanted was to show her just how wrong she was. That I was a certainty. Prove it to her in a way she couldn't ignore—press her against the wall, finish what I started last night. Have her crying my name, saying the things she really meant. Not the sharp words she flung at me in defense, the ones I knew she didn't really mean.

And then her words, You hurt me. For a second, I thought she meant physically—that I'd hurt her last night at the bar, or maybe when I helped her off Honey. But no. That wasn't it. That wasn't what she meant. She meant that summer.

I've been racking my brain since. Turning it over and over, trying to find the moment—the thing I said or did—that could make her look at me like that now. But nothing fits. And I can't shake the feeling that there's something I'm missing.

"Shouldn't have done it," I mumble.

"Clearly," Della mutters around a mouthful of popcorn. "Considering how miserable she's looked all day."

"Didn't seem too miserable last night from what I heard," Shep cuts in from between us. "Got there too late to tell for myself."

"Mind your own damn business," I snap, shooting him a glare before flicking my attention back to Della, watching her from the corner of my eye, trying to gauge if she's being dramatic or not. "She really looked that unhappy to you?"

"God, Rhett," Della whisper-yells, sitting up straighter. Porter snatches the popcorn from her just in time as she starts waving her hands around, all worked up now. "What is wrong with you? Do you like her, or do you hate her? Because I cannot tell. Normally, you stomp around all grumpy, but it's worse since she got here. It's like you're an eighty-year-old man. It's aged another fifty years overnight." She exhales sharply, then points a finger at me like she's ready to drive the point home. "And you do realize that if you piss her off enough, she's probably going to leave a bad review—"

"She's not going to leave a bad review." At least, I don't think so. The Ellie I knew wouldn't have—unless something really got under her skin. But then again, maybe she would. Considering how much she seems to dislike me now, I wouldn't put it past her. This is the same girl who once spent an entire day plotting five different ways to get back at her friend's cheating ex—half of which involved industrial-sized containers of glitter and his truck.

"She's going to do the opposite of what we need from her," Della huffs. Her eyes find mine and hold. They are as serious as ever. "Tell everyone to stay the hell away because of the grumpy-ass cowboy who can't keep a simple promise to stay away from her. She's going to file a restraining order with Bill, and then the whole damn town will know."

"I am staying away from her."

"Oh, right, yes, because I forgot the definition of staying away now means standing an inch from her face."

"You're kinda grumpy today," Shep whispers from behind.

Della exhales sharply, closing her eyes as she slumps back in her chair. "I'm stressed."

Porter hands her back her popcorn and rubs a hand over her back, smoothing it between her shoulder blades. Della melts just a little before squinting over at me. "Isn't she a little too young for you, anyway? She's gotta be, what, Shep's age? Younger?"

"She's twenty-six," I mutter under my breath.

Della makes a considering noise, then sits up. "You know, I could set you up with Marissa from the diner."

"Isn't she married?" Porter asks from the other side of her, and I grunt. All this time, I thought he wasn't paying attention, which makes me suddenly aware of who else around us might be listening.

"They got divorced last year," she whispers, then turns back to me. "She's around your age, I think."

"I don't need to be set up with anyone," I grit out, dragging a hand roughly through my hair before settling my hat back on. "And what's wrong with someone younger than me?"

"Other than the fact that she can hear a BeReal notification from across a cornfield, while you still can't figure out how to put your phone on speaker? Nothing at all," she says, tossing another kernel of popcorn into her mouth.

I frown, mostly because I haven't the slightest idea what a BeReal is, but also because— "I do know how to put my phone on speaker," I grumble.

She doesn't acknowledge my comment, just keeps going. "There's nothing wrong with being with someone like Ellis Sutton except for the part where she's literally here to help us, not to get wrapped up in some fling she had for a couple of weeks a year ago. It's complicating things, Rhett." She sighs through her nose, shoving another handful of popcorn into her mouth. Then, with a reluctant swallow, she adds, "If you're set on dating someone younger, go after Tess."

"Pretty sure Rooney has a thing for her," I murmur.

She hums in consideration, eyes flicking toward Rooney across the room. He's deep in conversation with Mable, no doubt entertaining at least half of her conspiracies about the post office and the library. Della shifts her attention back to me. "I actually think I could see that."

"Rhett. Dell."

Elwood's voice carries from the front of the room, where he's seated alongside four other council members. We both turn toward him.

"Maybe y'all can look into the dead fish in Diamond Creek for Mr. Milton."

"Sure thing, Elwood," Della replies sweetly, but I don't miss the slight crease in her brow—the look she gets when she has absolutely no idea what's being talked about.

Elwood moves on to the next topic, and Della's eyes widen as she leans toward Porter, whispering, "There are dead fish in Diamond Creek?"

"Up north at the bend, just before the Cooleys' property line," Porter murmurs back. "Milton said he saw a bunch of 'em floating. Did we ever get that water test back from the vet?"

She shakes her head. "I'll double-check when we get back."

We turn our attention back to the front of the room when Della's phone vibrates. She props her popcorn bag in the crook of her arm, fishing her phone out of her jacket pocket, while I try to focus on Estella droning on about Who Keeps Moving the Town Bulletin Board Flyers.

"Uh oh," Della murmurs. I glance over at her. She's angled toward her phone, eyes scanning whatever's on the screen, frowning.

I straighten in my chair, suddenly more alert. "What?"

"Nothing." She shakes her head, fingers moving fast as she types something out.

I shift my gaze past her to Porter, who is also looking down at his phone, jaw tightening. Then I glance back at Shep when he makes a low, distressed noise behind me, his eyes fixed on his screen.

I pull my phone from my pocket, bracing for whatever ridiculous GIF Shep has sent to our sibling group text, Lawson & Order. The same group text I leave daily on principle, only for them to keep adding me back in. But when the screen lights up, there's nothing. No notifications. Just the glare of my lock screen.

"Shit," Della whispers, looking up from her phone, her eyes darting around the room like she's running through solutions in her head.

My grip tightens around mine. "Someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?"

Porter leans in closer to her. "I can head out now. Help them start looking."

"Looking for what?" I snap.

"She couldn't have gone that far," Shep adds, bracing his elbows on his knees.

"Who couldn't have gone that far?" I grind out, pulse ratcheting up.

Della doesn't answer right away—just flicks me a quick look from the corner of her eye, like I'm the last person she wants to be the one to tell. Then she leans in, hesitantly lowering her voice to a whisper. "Tess said Ellis's friend told her she went for a walk around the ranch, but... no one's seen her since. They can't find her."

I blink from her to the window, where snow's falling harder now—thick flurries, gusts dragging it sideways with the wind. The glass has fogged at the corners, but the clouds overhead are darkening from soft white to a brooding gray as the sun sinks lower. And my heart thunders in my chest.

"She's been gone for a few hours. I'm sure she's fin—"

Della doesn't get to finish. My chair scrapes back, the metal legs shrieking against the linoleum before I've even registered what I'm doing. It echoes—too loud in the cramped hall—and popcorn crunches under my boots as I move.

"Rhett," Della hisses, reaching for me like she might get a hand around my arm.

I don't give her the chance. I'm already turning, already shoving past the row of chairs, a few people pulling their knees in as I barrel through. I don't stop to think about how it'll look. Don't stop to wonder how fast the gossip will spread throughout town. That Rhett Lawson lost his goddamn mind and ran out the second Ellis Sutton's name came up.

Della says my name again, but it's drowned in the roar building behind my ears as I shove open the heavy doors of Town Hall and step straight into the sharp winter air.

She's out there. Somewhere. And it's cold.

And the last thing I did was let her think I didn't give a single damn about her.

———————

This chapter and the next were absolutely not part of my original outline. But somehow, they ended up working better than I could've planned. Actually, most of the second half has veered completely off-course... but I kind of love it.

If you're still here, thank you! I know this slow burn is wildly long, but I promise, things start heating up soon—and when they do, it gets extra spicy.