Hannah nodded, her expression carefully neutral. “The part?”
“Gone astray,” Roy confirmed, flipping through the clipboard. “Mis-routed to Riverside instead of Bear Creek. The shipping company says they’re sorting it out, but...” He shrugged, the gesture both apologetic and resigned. “It’ll be a day, maybe two, before we get it here.”
Hannah absorbed this information with a brief nod, though her pulse quickened beneath her calm exterior. She was absurdly grateful that the problem lay with the part, not the car itself. “I see.”
“I’ve called around to some other suppliers,” Roy continued, “but the part is specific to your model. Nobody has one in stock locally. Which we already knew, since that’s why I had to order it specially.”
“Of course,” Hannah said, her voice level. “These things happen.”
Outwardly, she was composed, putting on the face of the ideal customer facing a minor inconvenience with grace.
Internally, something tightened, not with panic, but with an unsettling relief she didn’t want to examine too closely. This delay gave her time she hadn’t planned for, space she didn’t ask for. A reprieve that felt dangerously close toan opportunity.
She glanced over her shoulder in the direction Caleb had taken.
“Listen, we’ll get you sorted,” Roy assured her. “And there are few better places than Bear Creek to be forced to spend a day or two.”
“You’re right,” she said, forcing herself to sound brighter, “I appreciate you letting me know. I’ll check back tomorrow.”
“You enjoy the rest of your day,” Roy said, stepping back toward the building.
“I will,” Hannah said as she began walking aimlessly down the street. She had a couple of hours before her shift at the restaurant, hours she hadn’t planned for, in a town that wasn’t supposed to matter.
As she walked, Bear Creek came alive. Sunlight spilled across storefronts, warming the sidewalks filled with people who moved with unhurried purpose—a woman arranging flowers in buckets outside a small shop, an older man sweeping his storefront, two children racing past with backpacks bouncing as they headed for school.
Without conscious decision, she found herself stepping into a small bakery, drawn by the scent of fresh bread and sugar. She needed comfort, the kind that came in the form of a cinnamon roll.
A bell chimed softly as she entered. Behind the counter, a woman with silver-streaked dark hair looked up and smiled as if Hannah were a regular, not a stranger passing through.
“Morning,” she called cheerfully.
“Morning,” Hannah replied brightly. “Could I have a coffee and a cinnamon roll, please?”
“You can,” the woman replied. “I’ve just pulled the cinnamon rolls out of the oven. They’re still warm.”
The woman wrapped the pastry in wax paper as she chatted about the perfect weather and how the mountains always looked their best this time of year.
Outside again, Hannah found herself climbing the path tothe lookout.
The trail wasn’t long, just steep enough to warm her muscles. Five minutes later, she emerged onto a small clearing with a simple wooden bench facing outward. From here, Bear Creek spread below her in its entirety—the main street, the church spire, the scattered rooftops, the winding road that led eventually to the highway.
The highway that would take her away from here. Away from Caleb.
Hannah sat on the bench, her breath coming a little faster from the climb. From this height, everything felt both vast and intimate. The mountains seemed to cradle the town and its inhabitants as if the tall peaks were standing guard.
She could see the restaurant from here, its red roof distinct among the others. The vineyard would be further beyond, hidden by the first ridge of mountains.
And thoughts of the vineyard brought her back to thoughts of Caleb. He’d be at the restaurant now, getting ready for a busyday, a day that intersected with hers only temporarily. Just as their lives had intersected temporarily.
The thought ached more than it should have.
Hannah closed her eyes, feeling the sun on her face and the gentle mountain breeze lifting her hair. As she sat there, she allowed herself to question the rules she’d lived by: that every choice must be driven by need, by self-reliance, by leaving before she could be left.
What if there were another way to be in the world? What if staying wasn’t always a risk, but sometimes a reward?
What if the warmth she felt in Caleb’s presence wasn’t a warning sign, but an invitation?
The questions themselves felt dangerous, like stepping off a familiar path into uncharted terrain. Yet sitting here, looking down at this small town that had already begun to feel like more than just an accidental detour, Hannah couldn’t summon the usual fear.
