Yes, to Sunnyside.
Yes, to leaving Thunder Mountain.
Yes, to packing up everything she’d built and moving on.
And now the weight of that yes was settling deep in her bones.
Could she really walk away from this? From the work she loved, the people who trusted her, the town that had given her purpose? These folks had walked alongside her after her breakup with Merritt Hardwick—and as she recovered from alcohol addiction. They’d suffered with her through long childless years, after the quiet ache of watching other families grow while she stood still.
And then there were Charlie Grace, Lila, and Capri. The thought of miles separating them sent a shudder down her spine. These women had been her lifeline since high school. They rallied around her when she was the first black student to attend Thunder Mountain, paving the way for acceptance and friendship. They’d shared her life—the ups, the downs, and everything in between.
How could she possibly say goodbye?
She rubbed at her temples, trying to chase off the creeping ache.
Lucan’s laughter broke into her thoughts, bright and untamed. Her boy. Her miracle. She had to remember, this move wasn’t just about honoring a promise—it was about giving him something too. Roots. Identity. A connection to a family heritage and a legacy shaped by soil and sweat and family.
Still, the cost was beginning to show.
A soft buzz from her phone pulled her from the fog. A message from her mother: “Call when you can. We’ve started going through the back-office files and found something you’ll want to see.”
Reva stared at the screen a moment longer, then set it aside. She wasn’t ready for more news. Not yet.
Instead, she reached for the top folder on her desk, trying to lose herself in zoning requests and festival planning—anything to outrun the hollow ache of what was on the horizon.
12
Reva powered off the vacuum, the final hum dying into the warm hush of her mountain cabin. She stood for a moment, letting the stillness settle. Outside, the sun was dipping low behind the pines, casting gold across the windows and washing the reclaimed timber floors in a glow that made everything feel a little softer, a little more forgiving.
She had personally designed every inch of this house. Local river stone wrapped the fireplace, where a low fire flickered. Thick beams spanned the vaulted ceiling, their rugged elegance matched by the buttery leather sofas and wrought-iron fixtures she’d carefully chosen. It was mountain chic at its finest—refined, earthy, strong.
Reva paused, eyes drifting to the windows that framed her view of the Tetons. The peaks stood majestic, silhouetted against the last pink blush of twilight, and for a moment, it hit her all over again—what she was about to leave.
This house wasn’t just beautiful. It was a sanctuary. Every stone and beam had been chosen with care, not just for style but for the life she had built inside its walls. She and Kellen had created a home here. Lucan had taken his first steps on this floor. Late nights of laughter and long talks with her girlfriends had echoed through this kitchen. This wasn’t just a house—it was part of her story.
And soon…she would close this chapter.
She swallowed hard as she wound the cord around the vacuum and rolled it into the hall closet before heading toward the kitchen, the soles of her Golden Goose sneakers squeaking on polished wood. Her pace quickened a little. The girls would be arriving soon, and tonight had to be right.
The kitchen island gleamed, the slate and pearl swirls in the granite countertops a stark contrast against a bank of deep walnut cabinets. She opened the brown bag Kellen had dropped off an hour ago. Inside was the spread she’d ordered from Whistling Grizzly in Jackson, an array of hors d’oeuvres that made her stomach growl in anticipation.
Smoked steelhead dip with crisp crackers. Elk tartare, garnished with a quail egg and tiny capers. Bison bone marrow, roasted and glistening in its little ramekin boats. And her personal favorite—Cowboy Pops. Tender chunks of braised beef, marinated until spicy and sweet, grilled to perfection, then skewered and served on sticks.
She arranged everything on her largest charcuterie board, lit a few candles, and stepped back to assess.
Yes, she’d gone way beyond normal. But she wanted tonight to be special.
After all the emotional whiplash of the past few weeks, she needed this. A night to catch up with her girlfriends, to circle the wagons. To escape the outside world and be reminded they still had each other.
She reached for a bottle of sparkling water and popped the top. As the fizz settled, so did she, breathing in the scent of lemon and pine from the diffuser she’d tucked on the sideboard earlier. The front door would open soon. The laughter would start. And for a little while, the world might just feel normal again.
Reva set the last glass on the counter and stood back, smoothing a wrinkle from her blouse with a swipe of her palm. Everything was ready—candles flickering, playlist humming low in the background, and the spread from Whistling Grizzly arranged just so. She took one last look around, then paused as the soft glow of headlights swept across the living room walls.
There they were.
An engine cut off, followed by the sound of doors opening and the unmistakable cadence of familiar voices layered in laughter and overlapping chatter. Reva smiled to herself, her heart warming at the sound. No matter how much was shifting beneath her surface, this part—this right here—was solid.
She stepped toward the front door just as the doorbell rang, more out of habit than necessity.
