“What?”
“Did everyone have a crush on my brother?” She threw her hands up, exasperated. “I don't understand it. He used to smell like sweat and had those frosted tips. So tacky.”
A laugh bubbled out of me, unexpected and genuine. “He was really nice to me when I was twelve.”
“He's nice to everyone. It's infuriating.” Emily started walking again, shaking her head. “I swear, if one more person tells me how they had?—”
“Okay, okay.” I held up my hands in surrender, fighting back a grin. “I promise I'm over my twelve-year-old crush on your brother. Cross my heart.”
“Thank God.”
“But speaking of disgustingly happy couples...” I bumped her shoulder with mine, trying for lightness even though my chest still felt tender from my encounter at the clinic. “What about you? Anyone makingyoudisgustingly happy?”
Emily's entire face transformed. The exasperation melted into something soft and private, a smile that reached her eyes and made her look younger somehow.
“Actually, yes.” She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, suddenly less composed. “Nate. Never thought I'd fall for someone like him, but here we are.”
Emily's smile widened, but before she could launch into details, the brewery appeared at the end of the block. String lights crisscrossed the back patio, glowing warm against the deepening dusk. Laughter and conversation drifted out through the open doors.
A woman with dark hair waved from one of the picnic tables near a fire pit, her face lighting up when she spotted us.
“That's Abby.” Emily lifted her hand in response, then tugged me forward. “Come on.”
Abby stood as we approached, wiping her hands onto her jeans. She looked older than I remembered—more confident, more settled—but her smile was the same one that had patiently walked me through fraction problems over Walt's kitchen table.
“Rosie?” Her eyes widened. “Oh my God, look at you! All grown up.”
“Hi.” I managed a genuine smile despite the nervous flutter in my stomach. “It's been a while.”
“More than a while.” Abby pulled me into a quick hug. “Emily said you were back. How's the farm?”
“It's... a learning experience.”
Abby's smile turned sympathetic. “That bad?”
“Catastrophic might be a better word.” I dropped onto the bench across from them, letting out a breath that felt like it had been trapped in my chest for hours. “But I'm still standing, so that's something.”
“Well, let's celebrate that.” Emily flagged down a server.
She ordered a pitcher of the local pale ale for the table, and the server disappeared toward the bar. Abby settled back in her seat, studying me with that same patient expression I remembered from childhood.
“So what made you want to come back? I mean, Seattle to Alder Creek is a pretty big jump.”
The question hung in the air between us, friendly but genuine. I traced a pattern on the weathered picnic table, choosing my words carefully.
“Walt offered me the farm. The timing was right.”
Emily tilted her head, studying me with those sharp blue eyes. “But you're a graphic designer, aren't you? Not exactly a natural progression to farming.”
“I needed a change.” The admission slipped out before I could stop it. “Fresh start. New chapter. All those clichés people say when their life implodes.”
Abby's expression softened with understanding. “Breakup?”
“Three-year relationship that ended badly.” I managed a wry smile. “Well, notbadlybadly. Nobody cheated or screamed. It was just… over.”
The server returned with a pitcher and three glasses, setting them down with a cheerful clink. Emily poured, the amber liquid catching the string lights overhead.
“To fresh starts.” She raised her glass.
