The sun was dipping low, casting everything in gold. Emma stared at the screen, the name lingering like a challenge.
Harrington Memorial.
Olivia’s hospital. Her city.
It would be so easy to call it chasing. To say it out loud with a bitter laugh, to play it off like a stupid, lovesick impulse.
But she knew better.
This wasn’t chasing.
This was following her truth. And Emma had always followed the truth with her whole body.
She didn’t want to possess Olivia. She didn’t want to disrupt her. She just wanted to be near the gravity that had changed her. Maybe they would orbit. Maybe they would collide.
But she couldn’t stay still anymore. She looked to the ridge one last time, eyes narrowing against the sun. She wasn’t going after Olivia. She was going after both of them.
The sun hadn’t yet climbed fully over the mountains when Emma stepped onto the porch of the main cabin, boots scuffed and shirt collar half-buttoned, hair pulled back into a knot that had started the morning messy and ended up even more stubborn than she was. Her bag was slung over her shoulder, worn canvas that had seen five lives by now and still carried the scent of sage, smoke, and something sweet she refused to name out loud.
The retreat was quiet in the way it only ever was right before something changed.
Marv was already on the porch, sitting in his usual spot, one leg hooked lazily over the other, a cup of black coffee steaming in his calloused hands. The morning wind tugged at the hem of his shirt, but he didn’t seem to notice. He just watched the sky like it might give him something new if he stared long enough.
Emma stood beside him for a moment, letting the smell of coffee and sun-warmed earth settle in her bones one last time. Then, wordlessly, she dropped her bag by the steps and sat beside him.
He didn’t look at her right away, just handed over the second mug resting at his feet. It was chipped near the handle, the one Olivia had always reached for like it meant something.
Emma took it without a word, wrapping her fingers around the heat.
They sat in silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled. The kind that said everything had already been said, and yet somehow, nothing had been.
After a long sip, Marv finally spoke, his voice low and dry as gravel. “You sure about this?”
Emma nodded, staring out across the land that had once saved her. “I think so.”
“You think so,” he echoed, lifting an eyebrow. “That’s not the kind of fire that usually gets you off this porch, girl.”
She chuckled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s not fire this time. It’s gravity.”
Marv grunted. “Gravity’ll drag you under if you’re not careful.”
Emma turned toward him then, really looked at him. His silver hair was ruffled by the wind, and his skin was deeply lined from decades of sun and hard-won wisdom, and his eyes were sharp in that way only old men and former cowboys could pull off.
“I’m not going because I’m lost,” she said quietly. “I’m going because I’ve been found.”
Marv studied her for a long beat, then let out a breath that sounded like it had been sitting in his chest all night. “Ain’t my place to tell you not to go,” he said, finally. “And it damn sure ain’t my place to tell you where your heart oughta be.”
He leaned forward, setting his mug on the ground with a thud.
“But I will say this, Emma Lang,” he said, looking at her with that fierce, father-shaped affection she’d never asked for but had always felt. “That place you’re headed? It ain’t like here. That glass building with all its white coats and quiet hallways and tight mouths, it’ll try to shape you. File down your edges until you don’t even remember what made you dangerous.”
Emma didn’t flinch, but her throat tightened.
Marv reached out, pressed one thick finger against the center of her chest. “You remember this. That pulse. That fire. That grit under your fingernails. Don’t let ’em take it. Don’t forget who you are when you walk through that glass building, girl. ’Cause if you do?—”
His voice caught, just a little, barely there. Then he pulled back, eyes shining too much for the hour.
“Then it wasn’t love you were following. It was a leash,” he finished.
