His presence was a steady warmth beside me, unexpected and deeply comforting. Finally, I looked up at him, my eyes still wet but clearer.
“I’m scared,” I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. “Not just about the ranch. About failing. About not being enough—for this, for anyone.”
Max met my eyes. “You’re doing more than most people would. You’re fighting for something that matters. That counts.”
His hand moved slowly, hesitantly, reaching out to brush a loose strand of hair that had fallen across my tear-streaked cheek. His calloused fingers lingered just a second too long, a gentle warmth against my skin.
The air shifted, thick and charged and utterly silent, something unspoken but undeniably alive stretching between us. Then, as if breaking a spell, he cleared his throat, a rough sound, and stood.
“We should finish setting up lights before it gets colder.”
Right. Lights. Festival. Save-the-ranch mode.
***
We got to work side by side under the barn’s rafters, wrapping garlands, stringing lights, adjusting lanterns and signs. Max climbed the ladder, a solid figure against the dim rafters, while I steadied it below, my hands gripping the rungs.
We fell into a comfortable rhythm, even arguing good-naturedly over the color scheme for the main banner, our voices echoing softly.
We laughed when Duke, ever the opportunist, tried to make off with one of the glittered bows. For the first time since arriving in Starcrest, truly, I felt... lighter, almost joyful.
We worked late into the night, fingers numb but spirits oddly warm. Every now and then, I caught Max watching me when he thought I wasn’t looking. And I didn’t hate it.
By the time we finished, the barn looked almost magical—like something out of a storybook. Rustic charm, sparkling lights, the smell of pine and cinnamon in the air.
“I can’t believe we pulled this off,” I said, brushing off my coat.
“We’re not done yet,” Max replied, but there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Still a festival to throw.”
We walked back to the house in comfortable silence, Duke padding along between us. I was starting to feel like maybe, just maybe, I was supposed to be here.
Then my phone buzzed.
I pulled it from my pocket, frowning at the number. My old boss. From the city.
Voicemail.
I pressed play, and his voice crackled through the speaker:
“Hey Ella. Just a heads-up—we’re moving the decision timeline up. We’ll need your final answer before Christmas Eve. Let us know if you’re accepting the offer.”
My breath hitched, a sharp gasp. Max glanced over, his brow furrowed with concern. “Everything okay?”
I didn’t answer right away, the words caught in my throat. I just stared at the screen, the glowing numbers of the voicemail a cruel beacon, suddenly, acutely aware of the stark, impossible fork in the road laid out in front of me.
Two weeks to save Starcrest.
Three days to decide my entire future.
And I wasn’t sure which direction, if any, truly felt like home anymore.
Chapter 14 - The Other Offer
Max
Ella’s phone ping, just as we reached the porch. She stood there with her phone pressed to her ear, listening to a voicemail in complete stillness. She didn’t say a word—just stared out at the pasture, her shoulders set and unmoving.
But something in her posture—the stiff back, the way she pinched the bridge of her nose—sent a cold knot tightening in my stomach. It told me it wasn’t good. Or maybe it was.
