I'm on an emergency call. Mare having a tough time delivering her foal.
I stared at the message longer than necessary.
Cal
Maybe another time.
I knew exactly who Cal was—the guy who rushed out to save animals in the middle of the night, who came over if he thought I was in danger, who helped even when he wasn't asked.
I knew that. Ilikedthat about him.
So why did my throat feel tight? Why did those two polite, perfectly reasonable words feel like a door closing?
I flipped the phone face-down and manufactured a smile.
“He can't make it. Emergency call.”
“That's too bad,” Abby said, watching me.
“It's fine.” I ate another fry. “He's busy. That's just Cal.”
I tried to shake the feeling off. Laughed at something Nate said. Let Emily drag me into an argument about whether chicken feed was overpriced, which it absolutely was, and held my own for a solid four minutes before losing the thread entirely.
“Rosie.”
I blinked. Emily was looking at me.
“Sorry, what?”
“Are you eating something?”
Our server, a college-aged girl with a braid down her back, stood at the end of the table with her pad ready.
“Oh.” I glanced at the menu I hadn't read. “Yes. Just a burger, please.”
The others went around. Abby got the turkey melt, Emily a spicy burger, Evan ordered the same thing as Nate without apparently discussing it. Beers all around, bottles pulled cold from the back.
Nate and Emily launched into a disagreement about kitchen cabinet hardware that had apparently been ongoing for three days, which was both incredibly specific and somehow entertaining. I ate my burger, laughed in the right places, and let the warmth of the table pull me back in.
I only reached for my phone once, certain I'd felt it buzz against the table. But nothing. Screen dark, no notifications. Just my own wishful thinking turning Abby's elbow bumping the table into something it wasn't.
When I tuned back into the conversation, I realized the topic had shifted to football.
“Honestly, this could be our year.” Evan set his beer bottle down.
Emily pointed at him. “Don't jinx it.”
“I'm not jinxing anything. I'm just saying the kids are decent. They could win the championship.”
“You jinxed it.”
“Rosie, you have to come to a game,” Abby said, pivoting to me. “Home games are basically a town holiday. There's hot chocolate, half the town shows up, Mrs. Clarke yells at the refs?—”
“She's never wrong.” Emily shrugged.
“It's genuinely one of the best nights of the year,” Abby finished.
“Of course.” I smiled and meant it. “I'll be there.”
