I rub a hand over my face.“You think I don’t know that?”
“I think you feel more than you’re willing to admit,” Ethan says, a small grin tugging at his lips.“And maybe you’re scared that if you let yourself care, she’s gonna end up being the one fight you can’t win.”
I exhale, glancing at the floor.“Maybe.”
Ethan slaps my shoulder.“Then don’t try to win it. Just show up. That’s all she needs right now.”
The words hit something deep. I nod slowly.“Yeah… show up.”
“Good.” Ethan stretches, then grins.“Now stop brooding and help me spot before you break the damn bag again.”
I chuckle, shoving him lightly.“Shut up and lift, little brother.”
He laughs.“That’s the spirit.”
I feel my chest loosen just a little. The anger’s still there, but so is something else. Something steady.
Maybe Ethan’s right. Maybe just showing up is the first step toward something real.
???
Penelope
Grace’s car pulls up in front of the B&B just as the afternoon light begins to soften. She steps out, a backpack slung over one shoulder, her light brown hair catching golden streaks in the sun, green eyes bright and curious, the kind of face that looks too kind for this world.
“Hey,” she says, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes.“I just got out of school. You busy?”
“Not really,” I say, closing my car door.“Why?”
She grins.“Want to drive up to the ridge with me? I need to take some pictures for my photography class. Thought you might want to come with me.”
I blink, surprised.“Really? You don’t mind?”
Grace shakes her head, her grin easy and genuine.“You’re a photographer. You could help me out. And honestly, I kind of want to show you the view.”
That makes me laugh, the sound small but real.“Alright,” I say, grabbing my camera bag.“Let’s go.”
The road curls out of town, winding higher into the hills until Lander becomes a handful of rooftops beneath a sea of color. The air grows cooler, cleaner, pine and woodsmoke drifting in through the cracked window. Grace hums along to a country song on the radio, her voice soft, warm, and just a little off-key.
It’s easy. Comfortable.
By the time we pull off the main road, the world opens wide, valleys rolling below us, trees dressed in fire, reds, golds, and amber light dancing across the ridges.
“Wow,” I whisper.
Grace smiles softly, her hair catching the breeze.“Yeah. I come up here whenever I need to think. My project’s called‘Change.’I’m supposed to capture moments that show it.”
“Change,” I repeat quietly.“That’s a good one.”
She shrugs, setting her backpack down.“I just don’t know what it’s supposed to look like yet.”
I unzip my camera bag and hand her my camera.“Here. Try this one. You can adjust the focus manually.”
She takes it carefully, eyes wide.“This is so much nicer than the school camera.”
“Focus on what makes you feel something,” I say.“Change isn’t always big. It’s small things too, the way light shifts, the way leaves fall, the way someone finally exhales after holding their breath too long.”
Grace lifts the camera and looks through the viewfinder, her expression softening.“Like this?”
