“It’s in California, not here.”
Allie studied me, her gaze thoughtful. “When I arrived in Lonesome Creek, I was terrified. I’d spent too long running, never staying anywhere long enough to make connections. Safety meant isolation. Then I met Hail. The mating mark appeared not long after that. I thought I was hallucinating.”
I touched my wrist.
“I had a choice. I could run again or risk everything for a chance at something I’d never allowed myself to imagine.” She gestured around the hall. “A home. A family. Belonging.”
“Were you afraid you’d regret giving up your independence?”
“Very much. I’d defined myself by my ability to survive alone. The idea of basing decisions on a relationship seemed foolish, even dangerous.”
“But you stayed.”
“I realized I had to choose love. I was expanding my life to include more possibilities, not fewer. The question isn’t whether you’re sacrificing your career for Becken. It’s whether what you’ve found here matters more than what you’ll be leaving behind.”
Her words settled into my chest, rearranging something fundamental. This wasn’t about choosing between career and love. It was about recognizing what truly mattered most.
“We all had to make that choice. Every human mate in this town.” Her smile turned wry. “You’re getting the accelerated version of the experience.”
Becken ducked through the front door, carrying a box of additional craft supplies, which he set down near Rosey before scanning the room. When his eyes found mine, everything else faded to background noise.
Even across the crowded hall, the connection between us hummed like a plucked string.
He looked different from earlier, still serious and focused, but with a softness around his eyes I hadn’t noticed before. Children gravitated toward him, tugging at his sleeves to show him their creations. He bent to examine each one with the same consideration he gave to sorhox training schedules or rodeo safety protocols.
“Carla?” Latisha pulled me back to the present. “Can you help me with this ribbon?”
“Of course.”
For the next hour, I moved between tables, assisting children, admiring creations, and occasionally catching Becken’s eye across the room. Each shared glance felt like a private conversation, heavy with everything we hadn’t said aloud.
“You’re good with them.” Grannie Lil appeared at my elbow, her cane tapping on the wooden floor. “You’ve got a natural way with younglings.”
“I’ve never really been around children before, but they’re fun.”
“You’d make a good mother, which is something to consider when you’re making your decisions.”
I stared at her. “How did you?—”
“I may be old, but I’m not blind. I saw you take that phone call this morning. Saw your face afterward. And I’ve seen the wayyou look at Becken.” Her sharp eyes missed nothing. “You’re at a crossroads, girl.”
“I am.”
“Well, just remember, careers are important, but they don’t keep you warm at night or bring you soup when you’re sick.” With that bit of wisdom delivered, she moved on to speak with someone else.
The afternoon progressed in a blur of activity. Parents arrived to collect children and admire their handiwork. The craft stations were gradually packed away, and we started to prepare for the evening’s starlight ride and hot cocoa making contest. Everyone treated me like I’d always been here, and I wasn’t sure what to think of that.
“Carla, do you think we should hang the lanterns along the entire trail or just at the gathering point?” Tark asked, a clipboard in hand.
“The gathering point for sure, but maybe every fifty yards along the start of the trail too?” I suggested. “Enough to keep the sleighs together without spoiling the starlight effect.”
“Perfect.” He made a note. “That was what I was thinking. I’ll get my brothers to help set them up.”
“Let me know if you need more hands.”
“You’re already handling the sorhox decorations with Becken.”
The casual assumption that Becken and I were a unit, a team, made warmth bloom in my chest.
