Joe pulled away from the curb, keeping his voice even. “They just care about you.”
Krista exhaled hard, staring out the windshield as Maple Falls rolled by in postcard perfection. Hanging baskets. A couple of tourists licking ice cream cones. A kid chasing a dog that clearly had no interest in being caught.
“Everybody has an opinion,” she said, voice tighter now. “Everybody thinks they know what I should do. Like selling the Hideaway is some whimsical little choice I’m making because I got bored.”
“Madison wasn’t judging you.”
“I know,” she snapped, then sighed. “I know she wasn’t. She meant well.”
He kept his eyes on the road. Krista was utterly still. She could feel the heat radiating off of her, a storm about to break.
“She’s right, though,” he said quietly. “You shouldn’t have to sell it––”
She turned toward him fast. “Don’t.”
“Krista—”
“Don’t you start,” she said, voice rising. “Not you too. You’ve been here five minutes. You don’t get to act like you know everything, or what’s best for me.”
His jaw tightened. He took a breath. “I’m not saying I do. I’m saying?—”
“You’re saying what everyone says,” she cut in. “That I should fight. That the town will rally. That it’ll work out.”
Joe’s hands flexed on the wheel. “It might.”
Krista laughed, bitter this time. “Oh my God. You’re agreeing with Madison. The reality is my grandparents are getting older. The reality is that I can’t run two businesses.There isn’t enough time, money, or resources to do it all. Something has to give.”
“I know you’re tired,” he said, softer.
Krista’s laugh cracked at the edges. “Tired? Joe, I could sleep for three days and still be tired.”
He exhaled; it was a measured breath. “Why are you doing this to yourself? It’s not like you don’t have options.”
“Options like what?”
Joe hesitated. “Ask your parents.”
The car went silent so quickly it felt like the air got sucked out.
Krista blinked at him. “No.”
“Krista—”
“No,” she said again, colder. “Absolutely not.”
Joe’s tone was careful. “You told me they have money.”
“Yeah, money that they hold over your head. Money that always has strings attached. ‘We’ll help you as long as you do what we want’ money.”
“I’m not saying you have to let them run your life,” Joe said, frustration creeping into his voice. “I’m saying if the Hideaway is at stake?—”
“I’m not selling my soul to save a building,” Krista bit back.
“It’s not just a building,” Joe shot back. “You said it. It’s yours. You built it. You’re proud of it. And you’re about to throw it away because you’re too stubborn to take help.”
Krista’s head jerked like he’d slapped her.
“Stubborn,” she repeated, voice deadly quiet.
