"Hey." She reaches over, squeezes my knee. "You didn't break anything. You were honest. That's not a crime, Scout. That's not even a mistake."
"Then why does it feel like I ruined everything?"
"Because you're completely in love with him, you spectacular idiot."
My mouth opens. Closes.
"Yeah," Maeve says. "That's what I thought. You love him. And he hurt you. Not with the sex—with the running away after. With the silence. With deciding he knows better than you what you can handle." She signals for the turn back toward Coyote Bend. "So now you get to decide. Go to coffee with Grant. See if safe is enough. Or—"
"Or what?"
"Or you could wait. Give Holt time to pull his head out of his ass. See if he's brave enough to come back."
"And if he's not?"
"Then fuck him. You go live your life. Find someone who is." She looks at me hard. "But Scout? Don't settle for easy just because you're scared of hard. You're braver than that."
I turn back to the window. The town appears on the horizon—buildings wavering in the heat like a mirage. "What if I'm not?"
"You are. You already proved it by asking for what you wanted in the first place. Most people never even get there."
"Look where it got me."
"It got you to the truth. What Holt does with that truth—that's on him. Not you."
The road hums. Maeve hums along to the radio—some country song about heartbreak and highways.
The shop appears—weathered concrete, hand-painted sign, Finn's truck parked out front. Maeve pulls into the lot, dust rising behind us, and I sit there with the dress bag in my lap.
Not ready. Not quite ready yet.
"You gonna be okay?" Maeve asks.
"Yeah. I think so."
"You're not broken." She says it fierce, like she can will it into truth. "Don't let anyone make you think you are. Not Holt. Not yourself. Nobody."
I hug her hard across the console. "Thank you. For today. For everything. For not letting me just—disappear into that desk."
"That's what I'm here for. Now go. And text me after coffee tomorrow. Tell me if safe is actually what you need."
"What if I don't know?"
"Then you'll figure it out. That's what we do, honey. We figure it out."
I climb out. Dress bag swings from my fingers. Watch her drive away in a cloud of dust and sunlight, taillights getting smaller until they're gone.
The shop looks the same as always. But I feel different. Like spending the day away gave me just enough distance to see it clearly.
Or just clearly enough to know what I'm about to lose.
I push through the door. The bay's quieter now—late Friday afternoon, most of the work done. Finn's putting tools away, radio playing low. He looks up when I walk in and relief floods his face.
"Hey. You look better."
"Maeve force-fed me pancakes."
"Smart woman." He goes back to the lift he's working on. "Holt's in the back. Workshop."
