Page 34 of A Hard Habit to Break

Gone was the sentimental woman who’d had the option to walk away. She threw her hands up, a saint pleading for a divine intervention that he prayed wouldn’t come.

“This is Service,” she muttered, piercing him with those amber eyes. Her glare promised this wouldn’t be easy, but Noah had never been one to shy away from a challenge, especially one with freckles and red hair who’d once held his heart in her hands.

CHAPTER TEN

RACHEL DIDN’T REMEMBERhow they made it back to the house. She just remembered the heat of Noah’s chest, the weight of her memories, and how the moment had collapsed under the ache of everything unsaid. When they arrived at the farm, Benji and her dad, arm-in-arm with Bethany, disappeared inside the house, and she retreated to the barn, needing solitude.

Now she stood inside the old barn, alone but not lonely. This place had always been a refuge, half-workshop, half-hideout. Shafts of golden light pierced through the slats in the roof, landing in crooked stripes across her old drafting table. Her father had done a nice job of tidying up the space.

She shoved Noah’s binder, the one with the grant guidelines and proposed redevelopment allocations, aside and pulled out a mechanical pencil from the cup near the edge, sat down, and flipped open an old sketch pad. Without thinking, her handstarted moving. Long lines. Curves. Spirals. A trellis, half-wrapped in wildflowers. Too much Noah and the novelty of them together had encroached on her brain. So she sketched the wedding arch her dad had asked her to design, the one he claimed didn’t need to be fancy. She recalled his words, “Just something simple and pretty.”

But her hand betrayed her intentions. Her lines were light, then darker. Purposeful. Each line became more deliberate, more intricate. She couldn’t do simple—not for him. Her father had sacrificed so much, working the farm day and night to support her through college, never once making her feel guilty for choosing a path that led away from him. He deserved perfection, even if it meant pouring her heart into something that would only remind her of everything she’d left behind.

The irony wasn’t lost on her. All those years of running from this place, from Noah, from the suffocating embrace of a town that knew her shortcomings, and here she was, professionally tethered to the very man she’d spent decades trying to forget. The universe had a sick sense of humor.

The barn door creaked. Her chest tightened. He always knew. Somehow, he always knew when she needed him. Her father’s silhouette filled the entryway. Even as a child, when she’d scraped her knee or cried her heart out over some playground drama, he’d appear with exactly what would help. He didn’t say anything at first, just walked to the worktable and set down a mason jar of sweet tea like it was an offering.

“You always come out here when you need to think,” he said. “Still smells like sawdust and stubbornness.”

Rachel smiled faintly but kept sketching. “It’s quieter than the house.” And safer. Less likely to expose the cracks in her carefully constructed armor. In the house, Bethany might, and Benji would, ask too many questions. Out here, she could pretend she was still in control.

“And less likely for you to be cornered.”

That earned a soft laugh. She turned the pad so he could see. “What do you think?”

“Whoa, you designed this in a few hours?” Matt leaned in, his eyes narrowing like a real critic. “Our wedding arch gonna look mighty fine beneath the giant oak. I knew you’d make it something special.”

The pride in his voice nearly undid her. This man who’d raised her alone after her mother died, who’d never once made her feel like a burden or a mistake. Who’d celebrated every achievement as if she’d hung the moon, even when those achievements took her farther and farther from home.

“Thanks, Dad.”

He reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You know, the town loves you, kiddo. I do, too, more than you’ll ever know. And I’m grateful—grateful that fate found a way to hold on to a piece of you, even when you’re gone. Every time you come back, it’s like the missing piece snaps into place.”

The words hit her like a physical blow. Missing piece. Is that what she’d been to him all these years? A puzzle with a hole in the center, incomplete without her? Rachel swallowed. Hard. Pushing down a boulder of guilt.

“I’m still figuring out what piece I am,” she whispered.

“You’re the kind we never stop looking for.”

The unconditional love in his voice broke something inside her chest. How had she gotten so lucky? How had this man, this gentle giant with calloused hands and infinite patience, chosen to love her so completely? And how had she repaid him? By staying away, by keeping her distance, by treating home like a wound that never quite healed. Before she could answer, a cheer exploded outside—loud and wild and full of clapping.

Rachel blinked. “Oh, no,” she muttered.

Matt grinned. “I may have invited a few folks over to celebrate your homecoming.”

Rachel stepped into the sunlight and froze.

A banner. Balloons. Cupcakes in the shape of hard hats and house blueprints. A sign stretched between two oaks read “Welcome Home, RJ!”

Half the town was here. Some in overalls, some in sundresses, all holding plastic cups and making a ruckus over her. The sight stole her breath. They’d done all of this. For. Her.

She turned to him, jaw slack. “Dad, this is huge.”

“It is,” he beamed. “You deserve it, and Service is proud to do it big in your honor.”

Bethany trotted up in cowgirl boots, a floral dress, and hoop earrings that sparkled in the sunlight. “We should’ve waited another day. She hates it.”

She didn’t hate it. That was the problem. Some treacherous part of her heart was singing at the sight of it all. And near the back, half in shadow, Noah stood with a drink in his hand and his eyes locked on hers. Her pulse jumped. Her thoughts scattered. It wasn’t just the town that had waited. It was everything she thought she’d buried. She couldn’t wrap her head around all the care and effort that had been expended for her. And it was all standing here in the yard. Her nightmare and her fantasy rolled into one. All the careful compartments she’d built to keep San Diego Rachel separate from Service Rachel were crumbling. Here, under the weight of all these loving eyes, she couldn’t hide anymore.