When we step out into the sunshine, Jules’ car isn’t the only vehicle in front of the clinic.
Garrett is leaning against his truck, a slow smile on his face.
“See you at the farm, lovebirds,” Cassie says, pushing me towards him.
“I told them,” I say as he pulls me into his arms.
“And?”
“And they’re happy for us.”
“Good. Me, too.”
I laugh.
“Come on, I want to show you something Will mentioned to me before we head to the farm.”
He helps me into the passenger seat, then jogs around the truck.
We don’t go far. He drives over to the community school, a K-12 sprawling building.
“This brings back memories,” I tease. “Parking at the school on a day it’s closed. You looking to get lucky?”
“I think your mom wants us back faster than that.”
I blow a raspberry. “She can wait.”
He winks. “I think your aunt and uncle have left, so we can have your bed to ourselves tonight. I can be patient. Anyway, I wanted to show you…” He leans over and takes my hand, pointing to the school sign, and the mascot below it, which hasn’t changed since we were students here.
The Pine Harbour Panthers
Under the sign, though, are a few more sports teams than I remember. And right at the end:Rugby.
“I think I’ve found my new rugby team,” he murmurs. “Coaching might be a fun challenge next year.”
I turn my head just enough to see his face. To see that he’s smiling, and it’s soft and happy and real. “Yeah?”
“Yep.”
“Good.” A warm, delicious feeling—happiness in its purest form—bubbles up inside me and comes out on a soft laugh. “Because I think I’ve already hung my shingle on Main Street.”
Epilogue
six months later
Garrett
“No, that box is for the bedroom.”
I suppress a smile as Rory grabs the little plastic zip container that holds her allergy eye drops, lip balm, and snail mucus under eye patches, all from herbedside table, and shoves that into a box markedBathroom.
Packing brings out her bossiest tendencies. It’s cute and exasperating at the same time.
“Those live on your bedside table.”
“But they’re toiletries. They only live on a bedside table in a completely put together bedroom. They shouldn’t be unpacked in the bedroom.” Sure in her logic, she adds two more bundles of things from the bathroom on top, and then seals up the box. “Okay, that’s good to go.”
“When your eyes are scratchy and we haven’t unpacked the bathroom stuff yet?—”
