While I never would’ve believed I’d be in the position to help Magnolia—or especially that I’d do it—I was glad I had. Because in listening to her screwed-up life, I could kind of, almost see what made her tick. From the little bit she’d told me, it sounded like her dad was an epic douchebag who treated her like shit. I wasn’t sure why she let him, but that was neither here nor there. Even if he was, it didn’t excuse her for being a raging bitch to me over the years. But it seemed like Anna had been right when she’d said it sucked to be Magnolia.

“Um…” Magnolia cleared her throat. I could barely see her in the darkness, but from what I could tell, she looked like crap. Her hair was messed up, her cheeks were splotchy, and her eyes were swollen. “Thank you, Chloe. I’ll… see you around.”

She pivoted and walked through the trees toward the road. I stood there and watched her, dumbfounded on so many levels, not the least of which was that her thanks had sounded genuine. Uncomfortable and embarrassed, but genuine.

Shaking my head at how weird my life had become lately, I walked back past the restroom doors and to the beach to find my husband.

Chapter 21

Holden

As I put my phone in my pocket, confused as fuck-all about Chloe’s texts—talking to Magnolia? Really?—I glanced around to see if I could spot them in the shadows somewhere, near the water, on the dock, or up by the road. There was no sign of them.

I was half listening to Kemp, Levi, and Carter Costello talk about the brewery. It said a lot about my distraction level that I wasn’t leading that discussion, because I could talk beer and brewing till I was blue in the face… and normally I’d probably keep going even then.

Everyone wanted to know when we were opening, what we’d be serving, whether we needed any tasters. The whole town of Dragonfly Lake seemed to be almost as stoked as Kemp and I were.

Kemp was currently getting downright scientific about different types of hops because Carter had asked. While I knew a little about the subject, this was Kemp’s sweet spot. He was the one who’d gone through the master brewing classes. His expertise and experience at a microbrewery in Nashville were one reason I had no doubts we’d make damn good beer and do well. Between his knowledge of the science of brewing and my experience with running a bar and restaurant, we had the perfect combination. Add Chloe’s behind-the-scenes business acumen, as well as a few financial tips from Presley, and I was determined we’d beat the odds and make Rusty Anchor Brewing a raging success.

“Hey, you,” Hayden said, bumping my hip as she came up alongside me.

“Hey yourself.”