Page 83 of Blue Jeans in Low Beams

Our server appears, placing a long board with our sushi between us, removing the empty appetizer bowl. My mouth waters as I take in the bright colors of the fish and toppings, undecided on where to start.

“Bren, I think it’s pretty clear you don’t want to work for Big Box USA.”

“I don’t,” I admit. I unsheathe some chopsticks, breaking them apart and grabbing a piece of Dragon roll. I pop it into my mouth, letting the flavors burst on my tongue, savoring each one. “I just…I dunno…”

“Why pharmacy?”

“What?”

I perk up, taken aback by the question. What does he mean why pharmacy? Milo has known me since I was born. Before I was born, technically, if we want to get weird about it. He was there as I went through this whole what I want to be when I grow up journey. Why the hell is he asking me this now?

“Why pharmacy? When you went through all the nonsense trying to land on a major, what made you finally settle on pharmacy?”

I sigh, thinking back. It wasn’t an easy choice. I took the long road—starting as a chemistry major and doing a full undergrad program before choosing to go the pharmacy school route. Had I chosen pre-pharmacy from the get-go, I could have cut two years off college. But I had been so unsure of what I wanted to do. Until I wasn’t.

“Because I want to help people. Which sounds weird as a reason to pick pharmacy rather than become a doctor, but what most people don’t realize is just how dangerous drug interaction can be. How when those little labels say not to drink while taking certain medications, they mean it, because the chemical interactions that alcohol has with the compounds in the medications can be really dangerous, and the number of people that die every year from accidental overdoses because they ignore those kinds of warnings⁠—”

I stop midsentence, mouth agape. Milo’s staring at me, massive grin on his face, eyes as bright as the sun, looking at me like he’s never been prouder. And I have no idea what I said.

“What?”

“I love how passionate you get about this.”

“It’s important.”

“It is,” he agrees, grabbing a piece of sushi and popping it in his mouth. “But so is you remembering why you’re so passionate about it and following your dream.”

“I want to help people,” I repeat, feeling that deep in my bones, knowing that’s what’s most important to me. “And I don’t think that’s a location thing to me. At least not geographically. But I do feel like I won’t do as much good with big box guy as I would someone smaller. I can’t explain why, but I do.”

“And the Well Nest?”

Blowing out another long breath, I think about the setup I was shown during the video walk-through earlier this week. It was impressive and certainly much more personal than the massive box store alternative. Yet, I’m not drawn to it either.

“There is a much higher likelihood of being a help to the community there than at Big Box. Moving to Somerset though…I know it sounds silly, but if I’m going to leave one town where everyone knows my name, why would I move to another town where inevitably, everyone is going to know my name?”

“So that you’re no longer the girl who shit in the camellias?” he quips.

I gasp, kicking up under the table. My foot makes direct contact with his shin, and he groans in the middle of laughing at his own joke.

“Bren, trust me, I get it. I grew up in Hickory Hills too, remember? Chief Myers hasn’t brought up the bear food incident you just mentioned in a while, thankfully, but Fire Chief Phillips doesn’t pass up an opportunity to remind either Brandt or me about the time he caught us playing with matches in the cemetery. And Jack Keller? He’ll tell pretty much anyone who’ll listen about the day I got my pants stuck in the tractor that one summer I was working at the nursery and the damn thing ripped them clean off, leaving me bare-assed in front of everyone, including Kristin Goodman, who I absolutely had a crush on at the time.”

I sputter out a laugh, thankful I wasn’t taking a drink at the moment. That’s a story I don’t think I’ve heard.

“All I’m sayin’ is that there are pros and cons to both. You just gotta figure out which column is heavier.”

“And how do I do that, hmmm?” I pick up a piece of sushi, wiggling it dramatically for effect.

“Trust your gut; it’s usually right.”

“Thanks, Dad!” I say, sarcasm dripping from my words. I don’t hold back, however, knowing that Milo knows exactly what I mean, and that it’s not a jab at his age.

“Patrick Rawlins has never steered us wrong with that one.”

Milo’s right. My father has told all of us that piece of advice since we were little, and it’s an adage we’ve always taken to heart. And it’s never steered us wrong. It’s what led the boys to Colorado and to start a brewery. It’s what led me to a chemistry degree and then pharmacy school. It’s what led Bryce to⁠—

Okay, maybe it has led someone astray. But there’s an outlier in every bunch.

“And Bren?”