Page 16 of Until We Come Home

“You’re actually an amazing coach, kid,” I say, trying not to laugh and lose my footing.

Chloe can't be more than ten or so, but she has the kind of confidence most adults never get around to. Earlier she casually mentioned she plans on becoming a Formula One driver like her Uncle Jack, and apparently she’s already racing karts and beating boys twice her size.

I turn my focus back to the line, since my pride is officially on the line here, mostly because some overly confident guy from the grocery market wiped out midway across and blamed a slack line. He's currently glaring at me from the sidelines, looking like he's trying to push me off with pure brainpower.

“There’s a massive dip right in the middle,” he calls out. “Just so you know.”

“Thanks, I’ll adjust accordingly,” I say, giving him a sweet smile.

“Hey! Stop talking and let her focus,” Chloe scolds, pointing at him until he puts both hands up in surrender.

I bite back a giggle. Forget driving. This kid is going to be running the whole team.

"Come on, Mia!" Maren shouts from her chair, where Laila, their golden retriever, is trying to crawl into her lap, with Maren’s full encouragement. "I've got twenty bucks riding on you!"

I blow a stray curl out of my face and take another slow step. The line sags sharply under my foot, sending my arms pinwheeling as a collective gasp ripples through the circle, but I fight my way back to center and push all the way to the tree trunk. The market guy looks thoroughly defeated while the whole lawn breaks into applause.

"Whoo!" Lark shouts, clapping along with Jack.

I hop down onto the grass and offer a sweeping, dramatic bow, earning a nod of approval and a solid high five from Chloe.

"Flawless form, Mia," she tells me with absolute seriousness.

"I owe it all to my stellar coach," I say.

Chloe accepts this as her due. "Like I always say, girls get things done."

I laugh. "And don't you ever forget it."

Lark hands back my cup of punch, and I take a long, satisfying sip.

"Now I'm thinking we add a whole Cirque du Soleil thing to the videos," Lark teases. "You could do the next dance on a tightrope."

"You joke, but when I was six I seriously wanted to run away and join the circus," I tell her. "I wanted to be the trapeze girl, flying around in sequins. I made my mom buy me a sparkly leotard and everything."

“You never told me that!” Lark laughs. "We've been friends for years and you're still dropping random backstory on me. How do you go from circus dreams to ballet?"

"The trapeze school was two hours away, and the ballet studio was right down the street," I say, stepping out of the way of two kids running past with sparklers. "And dance won me over anyway."

Jack wanders over to join Mateo and Dominic, who are huddled together in conversation, while Marjorie goes to claim a seat near the fire, and Lark and I follow her lead. We settle onto the driftwood log next to Calvin, who’s talking quietly with Maren in the chair beside him, both of them careful not to disturb Henry, who has fallen fast asleep against his chest.

I grab a marshmallow from the bag at my feet, slide it onto a stick, and hold it carefully over the glowing coals. The lively chatter around the fire pit has settled into a cozy hum, with the distant sound of laughter carrying over the water from a boat out on the inlet.

Lark nudges my knee with hers. "So you're still flying out to LA next week before heading back up on Tuesday?"

“Yep,” I say, twisting my marshmallow stick as it roasts. “Handling a few final details, packing an extra bag, and then I’m officially a Seattle girl for the summer.”

“I can’t wait to dive into this project,” she says.

“Me neither,” I say, grinning at her as I pull the stick back to check the color. “I’ve been counting down the weeks.”

We hit it off on a video set years back and have stayed close ever since, but this is easily the biggest thing we’ve ever worked on together. She’s crazy talented without being the least bit pretentious about it, always down to try something weird, which is so refreshing in this industry.

Dancing to her music, with choreography built around me, is the kind of gig I would’ve made up for myself if I could, and the thought of spending the next three months on it has me buzzing with more energy than I’ve felt in ages. Though teaching at Meridian is giving it a serious run for its money.

I pull the marshmallow off the stick, pop it into my mouth, and catch myself sneaking a glance across the lawn at Mateo, who is currently being cornered by a pretty woman whose name I think is Larissa. It happens to him constantly. He’s tall, broody, impossibly handsome with those dark eyes and messy black hair, and to top it off, he literally rescues people for a living. Women tend to line right up.

The funny thing is how little he cares. He’ll hook up with someone every once in a while when he’s feeling lonely, but he never goes looking, and he’s way too polite to ever be blunt about not being interested.