Direction.
Resolve.
I might be leaving Silver Peak.
I might be walking away from the restaurant, from the quiet rhythm of mountain life, from the man who wrecked me.
But I’m not walking away from myself.
I’m choosing me.
And this time, I won’t look back.
Dinner is meatloaf and mashed potatoes—the kind of comfort food Mom makes when she’s trying to keep everyone grounded.
I don’t taste any of it.
My nerves sit coiled beneath my ribs, tighter than the too firm smile I’ve been wearing since I walked in the door. Mom’s chattering about someone’s engagement, someone I barely know, and Dee’s pushing peas around her plate like she’s carving crop circles into her dinner.
I wait until after the meal. Until plates are cleared and forks have stopped scraping, and silence has started to settle in.
Then I say it.
“I’m going to Denver.”
Mom glances up from the dish towel she’s folding, brow furrowed. “What do you mean, you’re going to Denver?”
Dee’s fork stops mid-air.
“I got a call this morning. Chef Adela Vaughn offered me a spot on her team at the new place she’s opening. She wants me to come see the restaurant, see if I want to work there.”
I try to keep my voice calm. Measured. But the tremor slips through anyway.
Mom’s face crumples, her voice soft with disbelief. “But Josie, sweetheart. You’ve just settled back in. What about the Inn? What about your job?”
“I know,” I cut in gently. “This came out of nowhere. But it’s a real opportunity, Mom.”
The truth is, I haven’t told her everything yet. Not because I’m hiding it. At least, not exactly. I don’t want to upset her. She worries so easily, carries things too deeply. And I’m barelyholding it together myself. I needed space to breathe first, to figure out what any of this even means before I bring it to her.
I always do.
But as she opens her mouth like she’s about to say more, I keep going, before I lose my nerve.
“And before you ask, no, this isn’tjustabout work. I haven’t said anything because I wasn’t ready yet. There’s a lot going on, and I needed time to figure it out for myself before I brought it to you. I’m not trying to shut you out, Mom. I just needed space.”
Across the table, Dee suddenly shoves her chair back, the legs scraping hard against the floor.
“Are you kidding me?” she mutters under her breath.
Mom looks at her, startled. “Dee?”
“I’m not hungry,” Dee says quickly, already on her feet. “I’ll help with dishes later.”
She walks out without another word.
Mom watches her go, confused, then turns to me with a crease between her brows. “Did something happen between you two?”
I offer a tight smile. “Just... a long week.”
