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“It is the point. You did your job. I did mine. I could have called it off. Trust me, I spent mont
hs replaying those last few hours with a different ending, where I figured out in time that we had the wrong village. But that’s not how it went down. We have to move on, embrace this town that took us in when the Navy kicked us out. Find a new future.”
“I’m doing everything I can,” he cut in fiercely.
“Are you?” Caleb’s brows arched in counterpoint. “I see someone pulling away. Totally get it. But that’s what you’re doing.”
“I’m not…” He was. Hardy knew him better than anyone, had easily sniffed out Isaiah’s defense mechanisms. “This is not going to last, Hardy. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
Nothing ever lasted. That’s why leaving was what he did best. And he’d failed at that too because Syria had turned him into a waffler of the highest order on top of breaking him into little pieces. Decisions were not his forte right now.
Frustrated, Isaiah shut his eyes and massaged his temples for as long as he could, mostly so he didn’t have to see the disappointment in Hardy’s expression. Isaiah wasn’t stepping up to the plate like he should. Like he’d have sworn he would, given the opportunity. But this was the one time Isaiah couldn’t keep the team together. Didn’t deserve to. Didn’t have the will to, not anymore.
“The thing is,” Caleb said quietly. “I’m putting one hundred percent of my energy into making sure it lasts. I was hoping you’d do the same. Thought maybe giving you something that would bind you to this town might help. Because if you want it to last, the best way to do that is to stop pulling so hard in the other direction, slow down and work for it. The better you are at this PR job, the more successful the town will be and then there’s no danger of it evaporating before our eyes. Make it happen for all of us, Elmer. I’m counting on you.”
He let Hardy have the last word and nodded as the man climbed to his feet to leave.
Slow down. It was Serenity’s prediction all over again, but with much broader implications than solely on his love life. Had he missed a critical piece of what she’d seen in his future?
It didn’t matter. He couldn’t do what Hardy was asking. This was the line in the sand. The mayor needed to hear that Isaiah wasn’t the person he thought and that sticking around this place wasn’t on the agenda. Except he’d promised Aria something that he hadn’t done yet. And he’d promised to get the barn done. He couldn’t leave yet. But neither could he pretend that everything was going to work like Caleb hoped.
At the door, Hardy turned for a final parting gift. “Start with one small thing. Build on that.”
One small thing. Like what? Design a new town logo? Pick a theme song?
Instantly, ideas unrolled in his head. While he’d kind of meant that last part sarcastically, he couldn’t deny he knew music well enough to figure something out that might be a catchy way to build an advertising campaign that would convince folks they wanted to visit.
Maybe he could handle that. The barn project was moving along. It might be nice to have something else to occupy his time. He could use it as the stake in the ground. As soon as he had that done, he’d make sure Aria had gotten her chance with Marchande and then he could go with a clear conscience once he’d told Hardy his plans. No matter how difficult all of the above would be.
Oddly, as soon as Hardy left, Isaiah’s mood improved. He pulled out the slip of paper where Serenity had written his prediction.
You must slow down a bit to find love. Seek a romantic retreat to heal and nurture your soul while connecting spiritually with a like-minded soul that shares your need for depth.
What if he was supposed to love this new job as the PR guru of Superstition Springs? Maybe that’s what the prediction meant. It was an opportunity to find a new way to function within the team, only the team would be a much bigger pool of people. Who would be counting on him to keep the town together.
That was the rub. He didn’t trust himself to stick. To breathe. To motivate others.
The worst part was how much he longed to do it. How great it sounded to be a part of something, filling a spot that had his name on it. If he did it right, he might not have to leave this time and that was the thing that was tripping him up. Because he didn’t want to. But neither did he deserve to stay.
If nothing else, this new assignment was a great excuse to ask a long-time resident for some advice.
Eleven
Isaiah hustled out of his room to take the stairs to the third floor before he could change his mind. Aria answered the door at the private apartment she shared with her sisters and Serenity, her red hair hanging down her back in a long liquid fall of gorgeous. He didn’t bother to pretend he wasn’t drinking in her pretty face.
He’d missed her. Which was ridiculous. He’d just seen her at church a few hours ago. But that didn’t change the big ball of happy in his chest that expanded the longer he looked at her.
“Isaiah.” She stared at him as if she couldn’t quite look away either. “Didn’t we decide we’d reconvene after I tried talking to Tristan on my own?”
He shrugged. “I guess that’s where we left it. I’m here about something else. Something roof-worthy. You can’t say no.”
This would be a great time for his rusty persuasion skills to make a reappearance. Good practice too. He had a burning need to get Aria Nixon onto that roof and an even greater need to prove to himself that he could still figure out how to motivate people into doing things they didn’t necessarily want to.
If he could find remnants of his old self, maybe—maybe—he might have a shot at doing what Hardy had asked. Not that he was going to. It was just that he would feel a little better about his chances.
“I can’t say no?” Crossing her arms over her midsection, she tried—and failed—to keep the amusement off her face. “What happens if I do?”
“I’ll cry,” he said deadpan. “And you don’t want to see that.”
