Cal's jaw tightened. He kept his attention on Pudding, who'd curled against his leg, content after his carrot treasure hunt.
“They're just...” He exhaled. “Stuck. Going through the motions.”
“That sounds lonely.”
“Yeah.” The word came out flat. “They care about each other, I think. But it's more obligation than affection. Everything's about appearances—what looks right, what people expect.”
I kept my voice gentle. “Were they always like that?”
“Pretty much.” He turned a blade of grass between his fingers. “My dad's a surgeon. My mom ran the household like a project. Everything needed to be perfect.”
“Including you?”
A pause. “Especially me.”
Pudding let out a small sigh. Cal watched him, and something in his face went quiet and unguarded in a way I hadn't seen before.
“Did they push you toward vet school?”
“Medicine.” He let a blade of grass go. “My dad wanted me to go into surgery. My mother wanted something she could brag about at dinner parties.”
“But you chose animals.”
“My first act of rebellion.” The corner of his mouth lifted, but it didn't reach his eyes. “They came around eventually. A doctor is a doctor, apparently.”
I watched his hands move through Pudding's fur. Slow, methodical. Like he did it without thinking.
“Is that why you work so much?” The question slipped out before I could stop it. “Sorry. That's?—”
“Probably.” He finally met my eyes. “I thought moving here would fix it. Fresh start, small town, simpler life. Turns out I just packed up all my bad habits and brought them with me.”
“Well, if running away from problems doesn't work, I'm screwed.” I spread my hands wide. “That's basically my entire strategy right now.”
Cal's mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, but close enough to feel like progress.
“I didn't realize you were running from something.”
“Really?” I laughed, gesturing at the farmhouse behind us. “It wasn't obvious? Who abandons a perfectly good life in Seattle to move to the middle of nowhere and wrangle goats?”
“I figured you'd always wanted the farm.”
“Not even close.”
The admission sat heavy in my chest. I'd never imagined myself here, not permanently at least. Those childhood summers were golden memories, sure, but mylife? That had always been Seattle. Coffee shops and art galleries and the hum of city traffic.
I'd never pictured myself anywhere but Seattle until suddenly I couldn't picture myself there at all.
“What changed?”
“Everything.” I met Cal's gaze, finding something steady there that made me want to keep talking. “My job stopped feeling like mine. Seattle stopped feeling like home. My ex...” I trailed off, shaking my head. “I was living someone else's idea of my life.”
Cal studied me, those brown eyes too perceptive. “And now?”
“Now I'm living my own disaster.” I grinned. “But at least it'smine.”
His mouth curved—actual amusement lighting his features. “That's one way to look at it.”
“Besides, running away is working for you.”
