Jared pushes back from the table, chair legs scraping on the wooden floor. “Coffee, anyone?”
Emily and I decline in unison.
“Okay, I’m going to go shower and put on pajamas.” He disappears into the living room, leaving us alone in the kitchen glow.
“You look tired,” Emily says with soft concern.
“I am.” No point denying the evidence in front of her. “But it’s a good tired. Productive.”
Her hand finds mine on the table, warm and calloused from her work. Our fingers interlace, her thumb brushing over my knuckles.
Outside, wind gusts through the trees, bringing a spattering of raindrops on the windows.
Mixie stretches on my lap, front paws extending toward Emily, claws unsheathing before they retract. The cat yawns, revealing a pink tongue and needle-sharp teeth, before she resettles with her head tucked under my arm.
All at once, I realize I want this to last, and the acknowledgment is enough to unsettle me. Every new tie to Pinecrest roots me deeper, making the idea of leaving again more complicated if Carson forces another upheaval.
Emily must sense the shift in my mood, because her fingers tighten around mine. “What is it?”
I shake my head, not ready to speak the fear aloud. Not ready to acknowledge how much I have to lose now, compared to the careful isolation I maintained when I first arrived in Pinecrest.
“Just thinking about Monday’s presentation,” I lie, and hate myself for doing so.
Emily deserves better than half-truths, but speaking my fear might give it power and transform possibility into prophecy.
Her gray eyes search mine, seeing more than I want to reveal. She doesn’t call me on the lie, though.
Instead, she lifts our joined hands to her lips and kisses my knuckles. “It’ll go well. You’re prepared.”
The rush of water through the pipes comes from Emily’s bedroom as Jared showers, preparing to wind down for the night. Next, Emily will do the same, and I’ll once again be faced with the choice to stay or leave.
Mixie stirs on my lap, stretching before jumping down to pad across the kitchen floor. The loss of her warmth leaves me momentarily unmoored, my sense of place slipping with her departure.
Emily’s hand tightens on mine. “Stay tonight.”
“Yes,” I answer, meaning so much more.
Yes to tonight.
Yes to this warmth.
Yes to the risk of greater pain tomorrow.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Emily
Cold settles into my bones as I close the cottage door behind me. November has set over Pinecrest, dragging rain and rot and the promise of months without real light in its wake.
My shoulders ache from raking leaves as I drop my gloves on the entry bench and toe off boots heavy with mud and soaked leaves. Outside, the yard lies stripped and raw, garden beds cut back to dark soil, branches piled and waiting.
Everything I could prepare, I have.
Rubbing my numb hands together to bring back some warmth, I stride into the kitchen for a cup of tea. There, I find Leif hunched at the kitchen table, still bundled in his navy-blue coat and cream-colored scarf, a gray sweater peeking from underneath.
I haven’t seen him all week. He had bailed on our Wednesday woodwork to get ready for a presentation, and now he’s here without announcement, with papers spread across the wooden table, his open laptop casting a blue glow that cuts through the golden light of the kitchen.
His fingers tap an anxious rhythm on the edge of the table, nails clicking on the wood in bursts of three.