Page 58 of This Life of Mine

Val exhales. “It’s all so beyond fucked.”

I nod in agreement.

Not only the affair, or the betrayal. But how easily the truth was buried. How easily the damage was redistributed by the Allister family.

Because in the end, the wrong person paid the price.

And Cole and Cassie walked free. They continued to see each other like they hadn’t falsely put someone in jail so they could be together.

“He should have gone to jail when the accident happened,” I admit. “And this time, he will. I am pressing charges.”

That lands. Val peers up at the ceiling, relief settling into her by my admission.

The shock gives way to something else now—protective, angry, united.

Kay is the first one I notice shift. She’s only twenty-two, all bright energy and soft edges, with short blonde hair that never quite stays where she puts it. Normally, she’s sunshine and warmth, the kind of girl customers instantly trust. Right now, her jaw is set, her sweetness dimmed into something fierce.

I straighten. “The shop will open as usual today. We’ll release a short statement. No details. Just that there was an incident, it was handled, and everyone is safe.”

Val nods, already shifting into command mode. “I’ll handle it. Any questions, any press, any bullshit, comes to me.”

Donna raises a hand, earnest even throughout this. “Can I still glare at anyone who asks invasive questions?”

“Yes,” Val says without hesitation. “Glaring is encouraged.”

Donna snorts. She’s twenty-five, electric from the tips of her blue-green hair down to her black combat boots, always humming with restless energy like she’s plugged into a live wire. She’s leaning back in her chair now, arms crossed, eyes with heavy black eyeliner.

Joey cracks his knuckles. He’s twenty-three, built like the baseball kid he used to be—broad shoulders, solid stance—evenif he’s only about five-nine on a good day. He shifts his weight automatically, like he’s stepping into a familiar role. “I volunteer to stand near the door and look intimidating.”

“That’s my job,” Donna says dryly, punching Joey in the shoulder.

“Ouch.” Joey rubs his shoulder, as if the meager punch actually hurt.

They’re all college students. Young. Still figuring out life. And yet here they are—showing up, locking in, choosing this place and each other without hesitation.

They don’t have to. This place is theirjob. Most people would only see it as a paycheck. A line on a résumé. But they treat it like it matters. They treatuslike we matter.

They’ve been unwaveringly loyal—not only to the shop, not only to the brand, but to me. To Val. To this strange little family we’ve built between books and an espresso machine.

They show up early. They stay late. They defend the shop online when trolls get loud. They check in when something feels off. They protect the energy of this place as if it belongs to them. And in many ways, it does.

So I don’t feed them a polished, corporate version of events. I tell them the truth. Because loyalty deserves honesty and they’ve earned more than surface-level explanations.

Despite the age difference, they aren’t just employees. They are our family.

Val turns back to me, a new level of determination hardening her expression. “You’re not dealing with him alone anymore. Ever.”

My eyes begin to burn, so I close them, unwilling to let the tears fall. Because whatever came for us before—and whatever still might—this isn’t a place that folds.

The videos will fade. The rumors will die.

But this—this truth, spoken out loud, has been witnessed by people who care.

And for the first time, I’m not holding myself together alone. So I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone.

“Okay,” I say, adding, “there’s one more thing.”

They all stare at me, bracing for whatever comes next.