It took less time than she’d imagined to pack up her car, and even though she felt as if she was dragging her feet, it wasn’t even noon when her family gathered in the driveway to see her off. Her mom had even called Laura to the thrift shop again, so she could be there to say goodbye.
She wasn’t surprised her mom was weepy about her leaving, of course. And Mallory always hated it when Gwen left. What really surprised her, though, were the tears in Evie’s eye, and the swell of emotion she felt as she wrapped her arms around her youngest sister.
“I liked working with you,” Evie said into Gwen’s hair, her voice choked with tears.
“I liked working with you, too.” And she had. They’d felt like a team—the Sutton sisters—and she was going to miss that more than she would have guessed. “I’m going to come back more often.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” She didn’t tell Evie it might be a little while before that first visit, though, because her heart wasn’t going to be able to take seeing Case anytime soon—not without breaking all over again.
Her mother had already hugged her a dozen times, but there was another, of course. More tears. There were no words, but they didn’t need any. It was all there in the fierceness of her mother’s embrace. Then it was Mallory’s turn.
“Text me when you get there,” her sister told her in what probably would have been a very effective stern mom voice if she wasn’t trying so hard not to cry.
Then quick hugs from Jack and Eli—who would miss her but also had Lego sets to build—and she was free to go.
It’s the right thing, she told herself firmly.
She opened her car door, but she had to look—just one more time. Case’s house was quiet, but his truck was in the driveway. And, from her window, she’d seen Boomer out in the yard earlier, while she was doing a final sweep of her room to make sure she had everything. But right now it was so still across the street, she’d think nobody was home if not for his vehicle.
He wasn’t going to come out and say goodbye. And she didn’t have the strength it would take to walk across the street and knock on his door to say that word to him.
Then she looked up and saw the white poster board in his bedroom window.
We’ll miss you.
“I have to go,” she said, not meaning to say it out loud, but the murmurings from her family made it clear she had and that they thought she was talking to them, rather than to herself. Or maybe to Case. Both.
She wasn’t sure how she managed to get out of the driveway and through town while crying, but as Stonefield faded in her rearview mirror, so did the tears. There was nothing but numbness left, an emptiness that consumed her as she drove as though on autopilot.
About an hour and a half later, when she was only a few miles from putting New Hampshire in her rearview mirror, she caught herself going under the speed limit. It was the third time so far, and it was clear her subconscious was trying to send her a message.
She didn’t really want to go home to Vermont.
She should have been relieved to be leaving Stonefield. She was going back to the life she’d made for herself, and she’d be free to resume her routine and get some writing done. Finish her book. Catch up on business.
Instead, the closer she got to crossing over the Connecticut River, the worse she felt—like an empty shell that was fragile, but it wouldn’t matter if she broke because there was nothing inside, anyway.
I can turn around.
Her hands trembled slightly on the wheel as she considered the words that blindsided her. She could simply find a place to turn around and drive back to Stonefield. She could make a life with Case. Be a part of the everyday lives of her mother and her sisters. She could be there for her nephews and not just be the video chat aunt. She’d be free to help out at Sutton’s Place on a very part-time basis. But she’d be a part of it.
Mostly, though, it was Case. With each mile she put between them, it became harder and harder to imagine what the rest of her life would look like without him in it. She couldn’t see herself alone in her house, sipping really good coffee with her notebook. She couldn’t really see anything at all. Instead she felt it. Her life would be lonely. Empty. Hollow. Could she even write that way? Did she want to?
And how long would it be before she stopped wanting to talk to him or share something funny with him?
She already missed his laugh. The feel of his fingers sliding through hers to hold her hand. She missed everything about him. And Boomer, too. Would she ever again feel as content as she had when she leaned into Case’s arm while they watched a movie with the dog’s head heavy on her lap?
When she passed vast, colorful fields of chrysanthemums, she knew she was but a few moments from being back in Vermont, and it was suddenly hard to breathe. Her heart ached in her chest and it was hard to swallow past the lump in her throat.
What the hell was she doing?
Tears were threatening to blur her vision, so Gwen braked hard and turned into a dirt driveway. There weren’t any other vehicles in sight, and she hoped the farm’s owners wouldn’t mind if she parked there for a few minutes so she could get some fresh air and maybe get control of her emotions before she drove off into a ditch.
Water had always calmed her so, after taking a moment to compose herself, she walked out onto the bridge. The river dividing the state she’d been born in from the state she’d chosen to call home was quiet today, and she made her way to about the halfway point. Imagining herself standing on the state line, she took out her phone and snapped a few photos so a woman standing on the side of the bridge wouldn’t alarm any passing drivers, but mostly she just needed a clear moment to think.
She could have it all. Her family. The bar. Her career—even if she had to rent an office space with a door that locked and leave her phone in the car. And most importantly, she could have Case. He could be hers to love for the rest of her life.
