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“I…but…” I mostly held back a grimace. “I can’t move to Calliope, or even Pelion. I’m not welcome in either of those towns.” The stories about my dishonest exploits were probably growing and spreading as we spoke. Blakely might have put me on blast to her two-million-strong Instagram audience for all I knew. Even my thirty-seven followers had probably deserted me. Well, except one, but he was family. “I’m a social leper.” And I brought it on myself.
“You are no such thing,” Bree said. She smiled at her husband. “Plus, we’re not afraid of a little gossip. We’ll ignore the people we don’t care about and set the others straight. Please don’t let that be the reason you say no, Rory. I promise you, there are good, sincere people in Pelion and Calliope who are eager to extend second chances. I know Travis isn’t here right now, but next time you see him, I’m sure he’ll be happy to add on to that with some personal experience on the matter.”
I released a breath, hope rising within me like the tide after a storm, all the stronger for what came before it. “Hold on,” I said. I stood, walking the short distance to the bar. “You did this,” I said to Romeo and Cassius.
“No,” Romeo said. “They did this. They wanted to give you the legacy you deserve. I only offered up the idea about the dogs.”
“But…I can’t. The bar—”
“Rory, go answer that call,” Cassius said, his voice gruff. “The Hale family—half your bloodline—has been living in that town since the town came into existence. Your father’s been beckoning you.”
Your father’s been beckoning you. I’d thought the same thing, hadn’t I? And yet, the poetic words, coming from my gruff uncle’s mouth, surprised me. “Do you really believe that?”
“The dude swears he saw a mermaid once,” Romeo offered.
Cassius shot him a look, but then shrugged. “We come from a place with magical mud. Why not? Anyway, it’s not about what I believe, darlin’. It’s about what you believe.”
What I believe. I glanced back at Archer and Bree. Did I believe I belonged in Pelion, the land my father’s fathers had lived on? I thought about the peace I’d felt there. I thought about the man I’d fallen in love with there. But I took in a deep pull of air and put thoughts of Gage Buchanan aside for now. This choice would not be about him. This choice had to be about following my own heart, regardless of anything else. I closed my eyes and pictured that glistening lake and swore I could feel the gentle breeze on my skin and hear the soft swish of pine trees swaying. I opened my eyes, tears making it difficult to see. Yes, I felt called there, to Pelion, to that peaceful lakeside town my father had loved with all his heart and soul. The place that had brought him the strength necessary to take care of a little boy who had no one else but him. Still, I loved the people here. How would I leave? “The bar…” I croaked, attempting one final argument.
Romeo smiled gently, but there was a twinkle in his eye. “Rory, I know you’re vulnerable right now, and I don’t want to add insult to injury, but I suggest you accept because you’re kind of a shit waitress and your baking is a crime against humanity.”
I laughed, a soggy sound full of tears and joy. I looked back at Archer and Bree who stood and approached as Romeo came from behind the bar and Cassius stood. Then I hugged them all in turn, laughing and crying, meeting Bree’s eyes and nodding to accept their offer because at the moment, words failed me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Gage
“Get up,” I heard yelled over the pounding of my head. I moaned, bringing the pillow to my face to shut out the grating sound of whoever was talking now, a running dialogue of how disgusting my condo was.
“I said, get up!”
I yelped, springing off the bed as ice water hit the naked skin of my chest.
“What the hell?” I yelled as Lexi came into focus, holding a now-empty ice bucket, the contents of which had melted and were now soaking into my couch. “Did you seriously just pour freezing water on me?”
“Yes, I did. You need to snap out of it.” She started pressing buttons on my built-in espresso machine. “How does this thing work?” she muttered.
I rolled my eyes, which, thanks to the two bottles of wine I’d drunk the night before, hurt like hell. “I need to snap out of what?” I demanded.
“A lot of things, actually, but let’s start with the fact that”—she leaned toward me and sniffed—“you obviously haven’t showered in…too long. Aha!” she said as coffee started dripping from the machine and she slid a mug under it.
“These are the first few days in a row I’ve had off in years. Can’t I enjoy them?”
“If this”—she swept her arm in my general direction—“is your idea of enjoyment, then no.” She put her hands on her hips and glanced around the condo. “For someone leaving in a couple days, you don’t look very packed.”
I scrubbed a hand down my face. “All I need to do is put together a couple of bags,” I told her. “I’m keeping this place for when I come home for holidays.”
“Ah.”
I looked at her, sensing more behind that short, singular word. “Ah, what?”
“A half-formed contingency plan,” she said. Before I could respond, she turned and started pushing me. “It’s a start. Go on. Take a shower while I make you some breakfast and then we’re going to chat.”
“You don’t cook,” I reminded her, but acquiesced as far as the shower and started heading to the bathroom. It had been a couple of days since the disaster known as Gage Buchanan’s Bon Voyage Party and I wasn’t expected in the office as I was supposed to be preparing my apartment for my departure. Instead, I’d been doing some moderate drinking and some heavy wallowing. Maybe a hot shower would help clear some of the fog from my head. I started walking more slowly. I didn’t want to clear the fog from my head. Underneath the fog was…her.
“Go!” Lexi scolded, obviously having heard my feet begin to drag. I sighed, and continued on but halted again when she called, “Do you cook eggs with or without the shell? Kidding!”
I closed the door to the bathroom and went about the business of cleaning my body on autopilot. But when I got out, I stared at myself forlornly in the mirror as I ran a hand over my scruff.
