“You should come visit more often,” I say carefully.“Hunter would love that.”
What I don’t say:I would love that.
“He should move to the city,” she counters.“He gets so frustrated with the Schaefers, you know?He could easily find a job in the city.”
“He doesn’t stay for the job,” I point out.
Bailey thinks about that for a moment.“Well, he doesn’t stay for our parents.He talks to them even less than I do.Why do you think he stays?”She leans forward slightly.“Why do you stay?You could sell houses in the city, or do photography, or whatever it is you really want to do without having to work three jobs, probably.”
Why do I stay?The unspoken but more accurate question hangs between us:Why would I ever leave?
This is going to sound dumb, I know, but I say it anyway.“There’s just something about Here.It calls to me.I look forward to everything that happens here—the opening of the lodge for the winter, every single job I do for Kit, knowing the people, Sunday Fun Days?—”
Bailey’s eyes light with recognition.“The mimosas and waffles thing.With the game.”She tilts her head.“You turned it into a whole tradition.”
“We did.All of us.”I lean forward slightly.“That’s what I’m trying to say.It’s not just about the place.It’s about building something with people.Making our own traditions.It’s mimosas and friendship and this stupid game we made up and Morgan’s and Leo’s dogs playing together and Jared bringing his kid around.”I take the last bite of my sandwich and dust my hands off.“It’s community.It’s home.”
Bailey goes quiet, studying me over her coffee cup.There’s something in her expression I can’t quite read—wistfulness, maybe, or sadness.
“You sound really passionate about it,” she finally says, and there’s that hint of longing there.Like she wishes she could feel that way about a place.Any place.
She has no idea, does she?That I’m not just talking about Here.That every single reason I gave for staying?They all apply to her too.Community.Home.Belonging.But yeah, let’s keep pretending this is just about mimosas and Sunday traditions.
It reminds me that she didn’t have the best childhood here, that she doesn’t have these fond memories of Herevian community because she was the kid getting bullied.The one who got out as fast as she could.
And I’m the one who never wants to leave.
The silence stretches between us, loaded with things neither of us is ready to say.Her city.My small town.The hours between us.The impossibility of it all.
I need to change the subject before I do something stupid like ask her to move here or offer to move there or admit that I’m falling for her so hard I can’t see straight.
I lift my chin toward her plate.“When you’re finished, I want to show you something.”
Her eyebrow arches, and she grabs on to the subject change.“Is this the part where you take me to a second location and Hunter finds my body in the woods?”
“Too dark, even for you.”But I’m glad she’s joking.Means we’re okay.For now.“It’s something good.I think you’ll like it.”
“That’s what all serial killers say.”
“I promise it’s not murder-related.Scout’s honor.”
“You were never a scout.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you would have told me about it already.Probably in extensive detail about some camping trip where Kit set something on fire.”
She’s right, and the fact that she knows me that well makes me smile.
“Just trust me,” I say, standing and offering her my hand.“Please?”
She looks at my hand for a long moment.We’re in public.There are people here who know us.Taking my hand isn’t exactly casual-acquaintance behavior.
But then her fingers slip into mine, and she lets me pull her up.
“This better be good, Montgomery.”
“Remember when you came to my office?To ask about the photo shoot?”
