Page 81 of The Hometown Heartbreaker

She pointed a finger at me, mock-stern. “Every. Single. One.”

“Every summer and holiday,” I promised. I’d have to work it out with Sadie, but I had a feeling she’d be okay with it since she’d already talked about visiting more to keep an eye on Buddy.

“When are you leaving? We need to have a party."

“I don’t know. Buddy is coming home today. I haven’t even told Sadie. I’m going when she’s going. If she leaves today, so am I. If she leaves in a week, then so am I.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay, well, keep me updated.”

“I will.” I stood, leaned down, and kissed her on the top of her head.

I left the office feeling lighter, the decision finally real now that I’d spoken it aloud. The air outside was sharp and salt-heavy, the sky the kind of blue that barely looked real. Next, I needed to tell Sadie my news. I just hoped she was happy about it.

I was halfway to my truck, planning to drive straight to the Shepard house, when I heard a voice in the stables, and I recognized it. I ducked inside, heart hammering, and found Sadie with Penny, brushing down the horse. Penny flicked her tail, contented, while Sadie murmured quietly to her.

I didn’t know why she was here instead of with Buddy, but then I realized: this was where she’d always gone when she was upset about her mom, whenever she’d had bad news and after she lost her. Where she felt safe. Where she could pretend, for just a few minutes, that the rest of the world didn’t exist.

My heart dropped thinking something had happened to Buddy.

When I spoke, it came out small, almost reverent. “Sadie?”

She turned at the sound of my voice, and I saw the streaks of tears on her cheeks. She didn’t try to hide them or brush them away, and I recognized that as something new—old Sadie would have wiped her face and covered the evidence before anyone got close. She was clutching a curry comb, her knuckles white around the plastic handle. For a second, all the words I’d planned to say clogged in my throat.

But I could read the panic in her face, the way her chest heaved with every shaky breath. It twisted inside me. I closed the space between us fast.

“Sadie,” I breathed, “what’s wrong? Is Buddy⁠—?”

“He’s okay, he’s fine,” she rushed out. She dropped the comb and walked out of the stall. “He’s good. He’s stubborn and cranky, and he’s gonna outlive us all. It’s not Buddy. I just—” She wiped her hands on her jeans. “Sorry. I just, uh. Needed a minute. It’s been a day.”

She was still crying, even if she was smiling, and I did the only thing I could think of—I pulled her to my chest and let her soak the front of my shirt. For a long time, we just stood there, her sniffs filling the stables: horses shifting their weight, pigeons rustling above the rafters, the wind knocking at the weathered boards. She buried her nose in my sternum and took one last shuddering inhale, like she was trying to take in the whole world at once.

“Are you okay?” It was a stupid question I wished I could take back as soon as it left my mouth.

She nodded against me but didn’t let go. “I’m okay. I’m better than okay. I had a long talk with Buddy this morning,” she said, her voice muffled by my shirt. “A real talk. About everything I’d never told him, everything I wish I’d said before, and it just—” She hiccupped and pulled back as she wiped her cheeks. Instead of that old defensiveness, there was something like relief in her eyes. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Sorry. I’m sure you didn’t expect to get emotionally waterboarded today.”

I smiled. “I don’t mind. You can waterboard me anytime.”

She gave a weak laugh and shook her head. “I’m a mess.”

“Yeah. But you’re my mess. Always have been and always will be.” The words were out before I could second-guess them, but she didn’t flinch. She didn’t run. She just smiled. I took a breath so deep it made my ribs ache. “I, uh. I have something to tell you, too. But I really hope it doesn’t ruin your good day.”

That got her attention, her shoulders tensed, and she braced herself like she was expecting bad news. “What?” she asked, voice tight.

I swallowed, nerves suddenly back in full force. “I love you,” I blurted, then shook my head. “Shit, no, that’s not—well, yes, I do, but what I mean is… I gave my notice. At the ranch. I just told my mom. I’m leaving. I’m moving to New York.”

She stared up at me blankly. “What?”

“I’m moving to New York. Not to, like, live in your apartment or anything. I mean, unless you want that, but I know you’ve got your own life there, and I’m not trying to impose on that—” I was rambling, so I stopped myself. “I just…I want to be with you. Or at least near you. I’m not letting another three thousand miles come between us. I’ll get my own place. We can take things slow. I don’t care. I’ll shovel snow all winter and even try street meat. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Her brows knit together, confusion fighting with shock. She opened her mouth, closed it, then tried again. “You’re moving to New York?”

“Yes,” I confirmed.

She shook her head back and forth. “What are you going to do in New York?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care. I’ll figure it out. The only thing that matters is that I’m with you. I’m not going to lose you again.”

For a second I thought the shock had actually paralyzed her, but then her face crumpled—first confusion, then disbelief, then something that looked suspiciously like hope creeping in around the edges. My mind raced, trying to anticipate her next words, prepping for every worst-case scenario. Maybe she’d tell me no, thank you for the gesture, but her life was in New York. Maybe she’d laugh and say I was being ridiculous, that this was just a walk down memory lane, nothing more.