“Throw in some sweat equity,” he said, “and favors from friends like Gabe, and we’re in better shape than most.”
“Your family,” she said quietly. “How are they going to feel about you planting yourself in Copper Moon instead of, I don’t know, buying a house back home and racing out of there?”
He smiled. “My mom’s initial reaction will be to ask what the healthcare options are in town and whether there’s a decent grocery store that sells real vegetables. My brother will want to know if there’s space for a lift with his name on it. My sister will remind me she called it, because she always knew I wasn’t done with small towns.”
“And your dad?” she asked.
His gaze flicked away for a second, just long enough for her to see the shadow. “He’ll be fine. He likes a project. He’ll probably send unsolicited advice about shop organization just to feel useful.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I say it like I know I’m going to be rearranging wrenches at midnight to avoid arguments.” He looked back at her. “What about your parents?”
Bree’s stomach did a slow flip. “That’s the part I’m still working out. They’ve already lost one daughter. The idea of the other one living eight hours away instead of two… that’s not going to be their favorite news.”
“You’re not exactly close by now,” he pointed out. “And Copper Moon’s an actual town with actual people who care whether you make it home at night. That counts for something.”
“I know.” She chewed the inside of her cheek. “But it’s not just distance. It’s… permanence. I came here to breathe for a week. Not build a life. In their heads, I’m still going home when the race weekend is over.”
“Then maybe,” he said, tone gentle but firm, “it’s time to tell them that home shifted a little.”
She made a face at him. “You make it sound simple.”
“It’s not,” he said. “But you’re good with hard things. You stayed when everyone else left the paddock yesterday. You saw something wrong, and you spoke up. You can have a tough conversation.”
She looked at his mouth; at the small line that formed when he was absolutely certain of something. Then she looked back at her phone.
“Will you be here when I call?” she asked.
“Do you want me here?”
“Yes,” she said. “But maybe not in the room for the whole thing. I don’t want them to feel like I’m performing for you.”
“I can grab coffee,” he said. “Loiter in the hallway like a proper anxious boyfriend.”
The word pinged around the room.
Boyfriend.
Her heart did a small, startled dance. “Is that what you are?”
He met her gaze. “Unless you’d like to renegotiate my contract.”
She laughed, the sound wobbling. “No. That title’s fine.”
“Good.” He kissed her forehead, then her mouth, slow and reassuring. “I’ll shower first, then I’ll get out of your hair. We’re supposed to meet with the mayor at eleven anyway.”
“Right.” She pushed herself up on her elbows. “Preliminary lease talk. Contractors. Adult stuff.”
“You say that like we didn’t already talk in bed about wiring a warehouse,” he said.
Her cheeks warmed. “That was different adult stuff.”
He grinned. “Both important.”
He slid out of bed and headed to the bathroom, pausing in the doorway to look back at her. “Call them, Bree. You don’t have to have every answer. Just tell them the truth.”
She nodded, fingers tight around her phone. “Yeah. Okay.”
