“That’s not fair, Will,” Noah says, his voice quiet as his lips tug downward into a frown. “Neither of us wanted to close it, but we’re spread so goddamn thin here.”
“What if I can do it? What if I can make it profitable again?” I press, standing my ground. “We can rebrand and refresh the whole place. There’s so much we could do with it.”
“I don’t know,” Finn says, doubt filling his gaze as he glances at Noah for backup. Noah looks back at him and runs his tongue over his top teeth. Silence wraps itself around us for a moment. My heart beats into my throat as I watch them share a nonverbal exchange.
Noah looks at me. “How much time do you think you’d need?”
My breath catches. “I don’t know. A few weeks? Maybe a month?”
“The Harvest Festival is in a month.” He glances at Finn again, then back at me. “Do you think you could have it done and ready to open by then?”
“Yes,” I say in a rush, my voice breathless. My heart thumps harder against my ribcage.Holy cow, I’m actually going to do this.“That could be plenty of time.”
Finn nods his head. “Plan on that being when it will re-open.”
“Show us that the store is worth giving it another chance,” Noah adds.
I extend my arm, holding out my hand to Noah. “Deal,” I say, dipping my chin as he grabs my hand and gives it a swift shake. He releases and Finn does the same.
“We have some extra funds that you can use to pay for everything you might need,” Noah explains, dipping his chin as he glances at Finn. The three of us all get a share of the family business, although the two of them know more about the finances than I do.
Finn nods at Noah and looks back at me. “Alright, kid,” he smiles, reaching into his pocket for his keys. He shifts them on the ring and holds one up as he hands it to me. “The store is all yours. Let’s see what you can do.”
My stomach does a somersault as I let his words sink in. Emotion catches in my throat and my heart pounds a little harder as I look down at the keys in my hand. They’re really giving me the chance to do something here.
After the rejection letter from the veterinary medicine program, this is a new goal I didn’t realize I needed. It’s almost like a redo—like I can prove that I’m not a failure after all.
My eyes drift across the yard, over toward the entrance to the orchard that’s lined with rows of maple trees. Contentment washes over me, drowning out that inkling of self-doubt that’s been festering inside since I received that rejection letter months ago.
Vet school was the plan, but maybe there’s a reason it didn’t work out right now. If I would have gone to Philly, I wouldn’t be here with a second chance for Gram’s maple store. I think this is exactly where I’m supposed to be right now.
Back in Sugar Hill Hollow.
Home.
CHAPTER TWO
JACE
Twenty-five miles an hour feels so slow as I lift my foot off the gas and coast into the small town of Sugar Hill Hollow. A sense of nostalgia washes over me as the familiar buildings lining the street come into view.
The solo traffic light in this tiny town switches to red as I approach. It seems unnecessary to even have a traffic light when there are so few cars passing through town. Nonetheless, I press on the brake until the truck slows to a stop and allow myself the moment to really take in the Hollow.
The leaves have already begun to change to bright yellows and fiery oranges and reds, signaling the shift deeper into the fall months and closer to winter. Everything has a way of slowing down here, almost as if everyone hibernates after it gets too cold outside.
The vibrant autumn leaves on all the trees at the base of the mountain tend to make the Hollow a popular destination for tourists. It’s a nice little weekend getaway for people from the city to admire the rolling hills surrounded by the river that flows from the lake at the bottom of the mountain.
Winter also has a way of drawing people in. It’s a quaint little town and when the snow starts to fall, blanketing thecobblestone and glowing in the street lamps, it’s practically straight out of a damn movie.
I just like it here because it’s home. It’s always been home. Even while I was away playing hockey, I yearned to be back here. The west coast has such a different feel than Sugar Hill Hollow.
My phone vibrates just as the light turns green. I ease my foot onto the gas while answering the call and switching it to speakerphone.
“Hello?”
“Hey bud, how’s it going?”
A smile lifts the corners of my lips. Harrison Reid was one of my best friends growing up, although he doesn’t live here. He lives in the next town over, with his wife Erin and their five-year-old son Liam.
