I rubbed a hand over my face. “We’re going to fix that.”
“Go get her back,” he said. “Give her a couple of days. Then go and tell her everything—not just the job, all of it. How you feel. What you want. No more holding back.”
“She asked for space.”
“She asked for space because you gave her incomplete information. Give her the full picture and let her decide withthat.” He stood and came around the desk, extending his hand. I rose and took it, and he held on longer than necessary, then pulled me into the half-hug we’d used since we were eighteen when words fell short—one hand on my shoulder, the other still clasped. “I’m glad you’re taking the job.”
“Me too,” I said, and meant it, even with everything else sitting in my chest alongside it.
“Monday,” he said. “Come in Monday. We’ll go through everything. Bring your questions.”
“I will.”
“Tell your mother I said hi.”
“I will.”
He paused, his tone shifting just slightly, almost casual. “How’s Hannah doing these days?”
“She’s good,” I said. “Keeping busy with the usual things. Why?”
Emmett gave a small shrug, but his eyes held a quiet steadiness. “Just asking.”
He let me go. I went down the stairs and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The light was fading, and the streetlamps had flickered on along the block. I stood on the curb for a long minute with my hands shoved deep in my jacket pockets, the cool evening air pressing against my skin.
I had done it.
I had told my family I was staying. I had told Emmett I was in. I had made the two decisions I had been trying to make for a long time in the span of a few hours, and both had turned out easier than I had feared, only because I had finally stopped trying to decide alone.
He’d been right the whole time. About Cara. About the job. About my family. About the life I had been piecing together without ever asking anyone what they thought of the pieces.
I climbed into the truck and drove back to the cabin.
I pulled into the gravel drive just as the sun slipped behind the trees. The engine ticked as it cooled. I sat there with my hands still on the wheel, staring at the dark cabin. It looked exactly the same as always. Nothing had changed, except that the woman who had been inside it this morning was gone.
I got out, went inside, and sat down at the kitchen table across from the chair where Cara had sat. I stared at the empty seat for a long time, my chest aching with a gnawing worry that refused to let go.
I didn’t call her.
Instead, I built up the fire in the stove, pulled a chair close, and sat with one of the short story collections Cara had given me. I read until the light faded completely, the fire burned low, and the only sound left was the river whispering outside.
At some point, I fell asleep in the chair.
I dreamed of her, like I always did. Tonight, she sat at her own kitchen table in that soft blue sweater, looking across at me. In the dream, she didn’t speak, but her face wasn’t angry. She simply watched me, calm and steady. I woke sometime in the middle of the night to a cold cabin, a stiff neck, and the dream still clinging to me.
I got up, fed the stove, and went to bed.
I didn’t call her. I didn’t text.
I lay in the bed we had shared, reached out, and rested my hand on the empty side of the mattress where she had been. My fingers curled into the cool sheet. Worry twisted deep in my gut, sharp, persistent, and impossible to ignore.
Chapter 33
Cara
Ihadn’t slept in my bed since running away from Jasper.
The couch had become my refuge, with Wentworth heavy and warm on my chest, Knightley curled at my feet, and Darcy perched like a quiet guardian above my head. It didn’t smell like him. That mattered more than anything. My bed still carried his scent, faint but unmistakable. Whenever I’d slipped in just long enough to dress, the pillow on the left side hit me so hard I’d backed out and shut the door before the ache could pull me under.
