“But you're not that person anymore,” Abby said firmly. “Are you?”
“No. I'm not.”
The certainty in my own voice surprised me.
“I mean, I don't think I am,” I corrected quickly. “But how do I know for sure? What if being here, running the farm, is just me hiding from real life?”
“What do you mean by real life?” Abby asked gently.
I started pacing again. “You know—career, ambition, making something of myself. What if I'm just playing house out here because it's easier than competing in the real world?”
“Rosie, you're literally building a business from scratch while learning to run a farm. That doesn't sound like hiding to me.”
I paused by the window, staring out at the dark silhouettes of the barn and chicken coop. “But what if...” I trailed off, something nagging at the edge of my thoughts.
“What if what?”
“What if I'm looking at this all wrong?” I turned away from the window, my heart starting to pound. “Abby, what if going back to Seattle isn't me chasing my dreams? What if it's me running back to something that feelssafe?”
The silence on the other end of the line stretched for several heartbeats.
“Tell me more about that,” Abby said quietly.
“Oh God.” I sank back into the chair, my legs suddenly unsteady. “This job—yes, it's everything I've ever wanted professionally. But it's also... familiar, isn't it? I know how to be a graphic designer in Seattle. I know that world, even if Aaron poisoned parts of it for me.”
My hands were shaking again, but this time it wasn't from panic. It was from recognition.
“I know the rhythm of city life. I know how to navigate office politics and client meetings and creative briefs. Even if it's scary professionally, Iknowhow to do it.”
“And staying here?”
“Staying here means figuring out who I am when I'm not trying to please anyone else. It means building something that's entirely mine, from the ground up. It means...” I swallowed hard. “It means seeing where this thing with Cal goes, which is terrifying in a completely different way.”
“But that's thegoodkind of fear, isn't it?” Abby's voice was warm, understanding.
I pressed my hand against my chest, feeling my heart hammering beneath my palm.
“Yeah, it is,” I whispered. “When you decided to come back here, did Evan influence your decision at all?”
Abby was quiet for a moment. “You mean did I stay because of him?”
“Yeah. I guess that's what I'm asking.”
“Honestly? A little.” Her voice was thoughtful. “But not in the way you might think. It wasn't that I stayedforhim. It was more like... being with him made me realize I was already home. Does that make sense?”
I nodded, even though she couldn't see me. “I think so.”
I thought about Cal helping with the goats, the way he'd looked at my design sketches with such genuine admiration. How he'd never once suggested my dreams were too big or impractical.
When I was with him, I felt like the person I'd always wanted to be. Brave and messy and completely, impossibly myself.
The realization settled over me like morning light breaking through fog.
I'd been so focused on the job offer, on weighing pros and cons and trying to make the right choice, that I'd missed the most obvious truth.
I didn'twantto leave.
Not the farm. Not the quiet mornings collecting eggs while the goats followed me around. Not the satisfaction of watching my soap business slowly take shape, or the way customers at the market remembered my name.