Safe.
The word sits differently now. Less fragile. More intentional.
Ivy nods. “You’re allowed to want more than one thing.”
“I know,” I say. “I just don’t know how to want them without losing something.”
Sloane shrugs. “Has anyone asked you to choose?”
“No.”
“Then don’t,” she says simply.
I exhale. “You make it sound easy.”
“It’s not,” she says. “But it’s yours.”
I fold the paper carefully and slide it into my pocket.
“I’m not calling yet,” I decide. “But I’m not throwing it away.”
“That sounds like growth,” Olivia says.
Ivy lifts her mug. “To reasonable indecision.”
We clink cups.
As the conversation drifts to Sloane’s latest media disaster, Ivy’s kids, and Olivia’s coffee truck plans, I feel lighter. Not because I have answers, but because I don’t feel alone in the questions.
When we eventually stand to leave, Sloane hugs me tight.
“Whatever you choose,” she murmurs, “don’t let fear decide for you. You know we’ve always got you.”
“I’ll try.”
Outside, the mountain air is crisp and grounding. I pause on the sidewalk, hand slipping into my pocket, fingers brushing the folded paper.
A few days ago, I thought my life was shrinking.
So I walk back toward the ranch.
Toward the place that feels like home.
With a number in my pocket.
Just in case.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Caleb
I don’t usually get stuckin this way.
I’m good with patience. With waiting. With letting things settle before I touch them. Animals respond to that. People usually do too, even if they don’t realize it.
But this feels different.
The days after the cabin fall into a strange rhythm. Not bad. Not tense, exactly. Just… unresolved. A door that never quite closed and never quite opened either.
