"Then why—"
"Because I've been terrified," she says, the words tumbling out now. "I turned down a guaranteed paycheck and stable career for...what? A maybe? A hope that I could make something work in a town where I'm still an outsider?"
"You're not an outsider, honey," Mrs. Flynn says firmly. "You're one of us."
"I've been looking at this space for months," McKenna continues, gesturing around us. "Running numbers in my head, trying to figure out if I could afford it." She laughs again. "I chose you. I chose this town. I was just too scared to say it out loud because what if I failed? What if I wasn't enough?"
I pull her closer, my forehead resting against hers. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Why didn't you tell me you wanted me to stay?" She pulls back enough to meet my eyes. "Actually stay, not just 'you can if you want.' I needed you to ask, Reece. I needed to know this wasn't just me wanting something you were too polite to say no to."
"I didn't want you to feel trapped."
"And I didn't want you to feel responsible for me."
We stare at each other for a beat, and then we're both laughing—at the absurdity, at how we've been dancing around the same fears, at how we almost lost this because we were both too stubborn to just say what we wanted.
"We're idiots," I say.
"The absolute worst," she agrees.
"So." I brush a tear from her cheek. "No more hiding. No more being scared. We do this together. Deal?"
"Deal."
I kiss her then, right there in the middle of her future studio, with our friends and family watching and probably taking photos for Jett's Pinterest board. When I pull back, I catch sight of something over McKenna's head.
Mistletoe. Hanging from the ceiling beam.
Of course.
"Did you—" McKenna starts, following my gaze.
"That was me," Jett admits sheepishly. "I hung it this morning. Seemed appropriate."
McKenna laughs, the sound lighter than I've heard in days, and when she looks at me again, the fear is gone from her eyes. Just certainty. Just home.
"You two are disgustingly cute," Jett announces, "and I deserve an award for not ruining this moment with my chaos. But also, I'm crying and need someone to hug me since Noah’s at work, so..."
She's immediately surrounded by Lauren and Mrs. Flynn, both of them laughing through their own tears.
McKenna looks around at all of them—at Lauren, who helped her pack up her classroom when she lost her job. At Jett, who's been her person since college. At the Flynns and Jace and all the others who showed up before dawn to build her a future.
"Thank you," she says, voice thick. "All of you. I don't know how to—"
"You don't have to," Mrs. Flynn says warmly. "That's what community does. We show up."
Jace starts talking about the timeline for renovations. Lauren pulls out a binder—of course she has a binder—with class schedules and pricing structures. The Flynns are already arguing about whether they want morning or evening sessions.
And McKenna stands in the middle of it all, holding my hand, looking at this space that could be hers—thatishers now—and I can see the exact moment she allows herself to believe it.
She's staying.
Not because she has to. Not because I asked, but because this is where she wants to be.
***
Later, after everyone has left and it's just the two of us in the empty space, McKenna leans against the window and looks out at the square.
