"Maggie."
"Booth or counter?"
"Booth."
She gestures to my usual spot—red leather, chrome trim, a view of the door. I slide in, and she appears thirty seconds later with a coffee pot and a mug.
"You mess up with my girl?" she asks, pouring.
No preamble. No small talk. Just Maggie O'Rourke cutting straight to the point.
"Probably," I admit.
"Probably." She sets down the pot, slides into the booth across from me. The apron comes off, folded precisely and setbeside her. "That's a yes, Flyboy. When a man says 'probably,' he means 'definitely but I don't want to admit how bad.'"
"I asked her to move to Texas with me."
"I heard." Of course she heard. The Pine Valley gossip network is faster than base intel. "Heard you talked to your brother first."
I wince. "It wasn't like that."
"What was it like?"
"I wanted to make sure there was actually an opportunity before I got her hopes up?—"
"Her hopes?" Maggie's eyebrows rise. "Or yours?"
I take a long drink of coffee. It's hot enough to burn and I welcome it.
"You know her story?" Maggie asks after a moment.
"Tyler."
"Tyler." She says the name like it tastes bad. "Wanted her to follow him to Virginia. Told her it would be an adventure, that they'd figure it out together. Said all the right things."
"She said no."
"She said she couldn't just drop everything and follow him across the country. That her career mattered too. That she had plans." Maggie drums her fingers on the table. "He left. Two days later. Didn't call. Didn't write. Just gone."
My stomach drops.
"Two days later, he stopped calling," Maggie continues. "Stopped writing. Just ghosted her completely. Turns out 'figure it out together' meant 'do what I want or we're done.'"
"Shit."
"So when you show up talking about Texas and opportunities and how perfect it'll all be—" Maggie fixes me with a look that could strip paint. "She's scared, Flyboy. That girl's been let down before. You want her to trust you? Give her a reason not to be scared of you."
"I love her."
"I know you do." Maggie's expression softens just slightly. "But love isn't enough if you're asking her to give up who she is to fit into who you need her to be."
Maggie's words echo Top's. Different voice, same message.
I just assumed.
"How do I fix this?" I ask.
"Start by figuring out what you're actually asking for." Maggie stands, retrieves her apron, ties it back on with practiced efficiency. "Are you asking her to follow you? Or are you asking if you can build something together?"
