I love him for it, of course. For always wanting to take care of me, even when it makes me crazy. When the thing I’m trying to prove—to myself or the universe or whatever higher power is keeping score—is that I don’t need to be taken care of.
“So how’s Jensen?” Avah asks in a tone so deliberately casual it hits obvious right on the nose.
“He’s fine. It hasn’t been terrible having him along.”
“Because he’s your soulmate?” Avah suggests.
I choke. “Because I’m pretty sure I’m faster than him on account of his blisters, so if a bear came after us, I could outrun him.”
“Real soulmate behavior,” Jeremy says drily.
I can tell from the look on Avah’s face that she knows something’s up. She’s got that narrowed-eye thing going, whichmeans I need to get off this call before she starts asking questions I’m not ready to answer.
“We’re taking an ATV back down the mountain tomorrow. I’ll call you from Billings.”
“You’re coming home, then?” Avah asks. “And fuck Kristen Quinn.”
“I’ll call you from Billings,” I repeat, and end the call before either of them can push harder.
I stare at the dark screen for a few moments while I think about what comes next.
I should go home. I should take Avah’s suggestion and say fuck Kristen Quinn. Fly back to Skylark and move on with my life. That would be the logical, reasonable, adult decision.
But my bucket list challenge isn’t about logic. I want to be a woman who goes after what she wants instead of waiting for permission or letting someone else take the lead. Giving up now, just because the first plan didn’t work out, feels like proving every person who’s ever underestimated me right.
Including myself.
As I set the phone on the table, the screen lights up with notifications about two missed calls and five text messages, all in the time I was on FaceTime.
I don’t read them on purpose, but my eyes catch a few words before I can look away. Cody’s name and dates for a studio reservation. A voicemail notification from a number saved as Jamie. And the one that hits me hardest: the words “need you back” on a text preview.
Robert: Need you back.
The unavoidable clarity about how much Jensen gave up to be here hits me hard. He has a whole life in Nashville that didn’t pause just because he chased some woman into the mountains.
Taking care of people is what he does. It’s noble and generous and would make any woman’s heart do somersaults.
But I don’t want to be someone’s project, or the reason a man neglects his own life. I spent a year being the person everyone worried about. Who they rearranged their schedules around. I hated every second. The guilt of being a burden was almost worse than the chemo.
Jensen has a life, and I need to let him go back to it.
Even if I really, really like having him here with me.
I hear the screen door open and quickly flip the phone facedown, arranging my expression into something I hope passes for neutral.
“Everything okay?” he asks from the doorway.
“Perfect. They say hi.” I hand him the phone. “Also, you’ve got some messages.”
He picks up the phone, and what flickers across his face is gone too fast for me to read. Then he presses the button to turn it off and shoves it into his back pocket.
“We should start those brownies,” he says lightly.
Okay, I’ll keep playing pretend for a little while longer. “You know how to make brownies?”
“I can read the back of a box.”
“You burned jarred marinara.”
