Would Wesley ever forgive me? Would we be able to be friends again? Would he ever want more? Could I bejustfriends and endure unrequited love?
These questions are pointless, because staying would only make things worse. I’m getting on that plane even though it hurts, even though my heart is begging me not to leave this place behind.
I lay the hoodie gently on top of my clothes and slowly zip the suitcase shut.
Glancing over my shoulder, I take in the room one last time. My favorite quilt neatly spread across the mattress, the wood dresser with a stack of books Wesley shared with me, theborrowed boots placed at the end of the bed. My lip quivers and I exhale a shaky breath, tugging my bag into the hallway.
The house is still sleeping, the kind of quiet that makes you hold your breath. I try to move softly, following the path with the least amount of creaks, hauling my oversized suitcase down the steps.
Heath is already in the kitchen, dressed for the day, a steaming cup of hot coffee in hand. His eyes lift and he gives me a steady, comforting smile that makes my chest tighten.
“Morning,” he says, glancing at the clock on the stove. “You’re up early.”
I shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.”
He nods toward the porch, holding up his mug. “Wanna join me for one last cup?”
I hesitate, but my throat burns, so I nod.
We sit side by side on the steps, coffee mugs warming our hands. The horizon blushes gold and pink, the wildflowers bathing in the glow of rising sunlight.
“Excited to go back?” he asks after a moment.
I let out a soft breath and shrug. “Not really.”
He chuckles softly. “I figured.”
My eyes are pulled toward the barn, the fences, the horses grazing in the fields—everything I didn’t expect to fall in love with.
Almost everything.
Heath takes a slow sip, then sets his mug down between us.
“You don’t have to leave, you know. You’re good at this, Sadie. The animals like you. The guests like you. You’re a natural. That’s more than I can say for some of the knuckleheads in that bunkhouse.”
I blink at him, a little stunned. “Thank you.”
“I mean it,” he says, eyes kind but serious. “If you wanted to stay—permanently—we’d be lucky to have you here.”
His words knock the air straight from my lungs. For a second, I can’t move.
“We can set you up in one of the guest cabins during the off-season. Figure out the rest when the time comes.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Are you serious?”
He nods once. “Absolutely.”
Something blooms in my chest—warm, bright, and painful all at once. I close my eyes, letting myself imagine it. Mornings on this porch, sipping from my favorite teal mug. My friends. Monty. Iris.
A job I love.
A life that feels likemine.
But then I think of Wesley…
And I’m forced to blink the daydream away.
I press my lips together. “That’s…really generous. But I don’t think I deserve it.”
