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And no words have been uttered about a potential date for my departure.

I’ve been on the West Coast for almost two months now, and Oliver still hasn’t asked me to stay for good. Why hasn’t he asked? I need him to tell me he wants me to stay. I don’t want to overstay my welcome or take for granted that I can just stay however long I want. Why can’t he just . . . ask me? I don’t want to go home now.

Home.

I snort as I pull a pair of warm socks over my black leggings and tie my hiking shoes in the entryway. What a weird concept now. Can I really call Toronto my home when I’m not even sure when I’ll have a job to come back to? Or when ninety percent of my time has been spent outside the country over the last five years?

And now that I’ve been here, now that I’ve had a taste of life with Oli, Pine Falls is home. And for the first time in I don’t know how long, I don’t want to run anymore. I don’t want to leave. The urge in me that used to thrum with impatience every time I stood still for too long has quieted down. I no longer feel the constant need to search for risk and adrenaline. All I’m looking for now is that safe and grounding feeling to never leave me. My time with Oli has made me feel like I belong somewhere when I’ve never felt that way in my life, except with my sister. That I belong to someone.

“How’s the ankle?” Oliver asks when he joins me with our bag.

I rotate it for show, barely feeling any discomfort. “Good as new.”

He bends down and drops a quick kiss on my lips as he smiles. “I’d hate to have to carry you again.”

“As if you’d object,” I say and gently poke his chest.

He snatches my wrist and pulls me up to him, laying my hand flat on his heart. “Any excuse to keep you close to me.”

His index finger comes under my chin, tilting my gaze to his. His lips part, but a knock on the door stops whatever was going to come out of his mouth.

“Ignore it,” I whisper.

Oliver chuckles. “They’re just behind that door, sweetheart. They can probably hear us.”

“Charlee! Oliver! Open the door!”

Bang, bang, bang!

I whip my head toward the door at the voice. “Emma?” I fling open the door.

“Do you know how many houses I had to knock at before someone told me where you lived? Why isn’t there a street name on the path that leads here?” she asks Oliver as she pushes past me and falls onto the shoe bench. She waves at me. “Hey, you. I wasn’t sure you’d still be here, but I guess I was right about whatever was going on between you two while we were filming. Glad to see it was enough to make you stay a bit longer. Damn good guess, though. Otherwise, I would’ve come all the way here for nothing.”

Oliver and I exchange a puzzled look. What is she talking about? He shrugs, as if he can read the question in my mind.

“Are you okay?” I ask. “What’s happening? Why aren’t you in Toronto?”

Emma straightens in her seat. “Yes, I’m okay. A lot is happening. Because I needed to see you. More questions?” She looks at our backpacks, then at us. “Were you on your way out? Am I interrupting something?”

“We were,” Oliver says. “I’m taking Charlee somewhere, yes. Can’t say where.” He flashes me a grin. “It’s a surprise. But we can spare a moment to chat. We’re not in a rush and it looks important. Come on, let’s settle somewhere more comfortable.”

Emma rises and follows us to the living room, where she sits down on the couch with Oliver while I take the armchair.

“You’re the last person I expected to see today,” I say.

Emma laughs. “Well, this won’t be the least surprised you’ll be, let me tell you. Have you heard about what’s going on with MNL? Shit is going down.”

“Yeah, we heard bits and pieces.” Oliver nods. “Donna has been filling us in. Ugly stuff.”

“‘Ugly’ wouldn’t be the term I’d use, but that’s definitely one way to put it,” I say between clenched teeth.

The aftermath has been dire for Trevor, especially since Emma, and, surprisingly, Nick and Axel, corroborated our side of the story, prompting other scorned employees to come forward with their lengthy list of Trevor’s abuses of power.

“Wild Planet and Movie Night Live lawyers are still going through the fine print of our contracts and ironing out the last details,” I say, “but as far as we’ve heard, Trevor is out. Right?”

“Oh, he is. Absolutely,” Emma says, a smug smile pulling her lips upward. “Listen, I’m gonna give it to you straight, Charlee, and this stays between us for now, because you’re technically not supposed to know until the big boss at MNL calls you next week, but I wanted to tell you in person.”

I frown. “What are you talking about?”