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“It’s a little late for coffee.”

“It’s been a long day,” I yawn.

“Alright, honey, you get some rest. I love you.”

I clear my throat. “I love you too, Mom. Sleep tight tonight.”

She hangs up. Jamie isn’t back yet. I set the phone down and make a cup of coffee, because that’s what my family does when we don’t know what to do. While it brews, I go to the bedroom and turn on the shower. I wash the airport off and pull on my sleep shorts, then open his luggage and take out a hoodie. It’s thick, soft, and a khaki shade that reminds me of a sporting goods store.

I inhale as I pull it over my head.

Perfect.

Back in the kitchen, coffee in one hand, I pull the door aside and step out. The back porch looks out over a field of waist-high grass. Along the tree line, I catch sight of a group of turkeys, strutting up and down. It reminds me of back home, how Dad would go out and get a wild turkey for Thanksgiving because he didn’t believe in factory farming and never let us buy from the grocery store. It would always be a bit stringy, but he said that meant the meat was healthy. It reminds me of what Jamie said about the venison.

I breathe in, holding the clean air in my lungs.

A hint of homesickness appears. It’s mid-October, it’ll be snowing in Wyoming if it’s not already. Here in Kentucky, the trees are brilliant orange and gold. Everything has that nostalgic dead-leaf smell, a hint of spice coming from the oak trees.

I climb down the steps and look out over the hill.

I can ask myself again and again if Mom is right. Or I can let everything else fall away and follow the ache in my heart all the way to Jamie.

Maybe there’s another way to my dream.

Maybe I can really have it all.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

JAMIE

When I come back, she’s standing out in the yard wearing my hoodie. I set the groceries down and go to look at her through the window. It hurts, knowing she’s not mine. Knowing that if I made her mine, I’d be fucking with her future as she has it planned out.

I should put us both out of our misery and introduce her to Marion, see if she’d take her on, and cut this off forever. If I were a good man and a good agent, I’d do it as soon as we leave the cabin.

She turns, eyes locking through the window. A beautiful smile appears. The cool wind tugs at her blonde hair, sending it tumbling around her shoulders.

God, she is brilliant.

I want to confess everything, but I can’t. I’m in too deep, and I care too much now. Now, ethical lines that I can’t cross are coming at me hard and fast. At this point, Marion might not even be willing to give her a shot. I hate that; it makes me feel like by touching her, I left my fingerprints all over her future. And not in a good way.

I should talk to Marion. Soon.

Pushing everything down, I step outside and come down the steps. The air smells of a crisp autumn evening, not close enough to winter for it to signal snow. She watches me as I approach, letting me slide my hand around her waist and rest my chin on the top of her head. Her body slowly melts into mine. Her soft palm slides over my wrist, fingers intertwining.

“Are you happy here?” she asks.

Surprised, I take a beat to answer.

“Yeah, I like it here a lot,” I say finally.

“No, right now,” she whispers. “With me.”

My stomach flips. We’re riding a fine line, but I don’t want to back down.

“Yeah,” I say roughly. “I am.”

She turns in my arms, looking up at me. Her lips part, shaking. I wait, my heart thudding.