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“Marcus said I'd have creative input, but within their aesthetic framework. Which means...” Jess trailed off.

“Which means making their art, not yours,” Zoey finished. “What else?”

“The winter art fair. I want to show my work, see if people actually respond to it. And the barn—God, the barn. Working there feels right in a way Brooklyn never did.”

“Because of the space or because of Wayne?”

Jess's throat tightened. “Both. I don't know. He pushed me away earlier and I'm still so angry about it, but I can't stop thinking about him. About us. About what we could build together if he'd just—” She stopped. “But maybe he won't. Maybe I'm an idiot for even considering staying for a man who keeps running scared.”

“Are you staying for him or for you?”

The question hung in the air.

“I don't know anymore,” Jess whispered.

Zoey was quiet for a moment. “When I came to Elken Grove, I was running from someone who thought he owned me. I told myself it was temporary—just until things settled. But then I met Graham, and suddenly I had reasons to stay that had nothing to do with what I was running from.” She turned to face Jess. “Here's what I learned: You can't build a life around running away from something. But you can't build it around chasing someone else either. You have to build it for yourself first.”

“So what do I do?”

“What would you do if Wayne wasn't in the picture?”

Jess opened her mouth, then closed it again.

San Francisco meant security. A real paycheck, health insurance, a title she could tell people at parties. Her parents would be proud—their daughter finally had a “real job” instead of scraping by as an artist. It meant not having to justify her choices anymore.

But it also meant making someone else's vision. Fitting her creativity into their “aesthetic framework.” She'd spent three years in Brooklyn doing exactly that—taking commissions she didn't care about, making pretty things that paid rent but left her hollow.

And Elken Grove? Elken Grove was terrifying. No guaranteed income. No safety net beyond whatever she could build herself. The very real possibility of failure.

But the barn. God, the barn. The way her hands felt when she was creating something that mattered, not just something that would sell. The winter pieces taking shape—not because anyone commissioned them, but because she couldn't stop making them. That feeling of rightness when she was working, like she'd finally found the rhythm she'd been searching for.

“I'd stay,” Jess said slowly, testing the words. “I'd apply to the winter fair. Keep building my portfolio. See if I could actually make a career here.”

Saying it out loud made it real. Made it terrifying.

And absolutely right.

“Then that's your answer.” Zoey's expression softened. “Wayne's a complication, not the foundation. If you want to be with him, great. But don't leave because he's scared, and don't stay just to win him over. Stay because this is where you want to build your life.”

“But what if it doesn't work out? The art career, I mean.”

“What if it does?” Zoey countered. “Look, that San Francisco job is safe. Steady paycheck, clear path. But is safe what you want? Because from where I'm sitting, you didn't come back to Elken Grove to play it safe.”

Jess drew in a long breath. “No. I didn't.”

“Then here's what we're going to do.” Zoey nodded encouragingly. “We're going to make sure you have options. Whether you stay or go, it should be a real choice, not running from one thing to another.” She straightened, spotting someone across the lot, and leaned out the window. “Jake! Got a minute?”

Jake Conners looked up from loading groceries into his truck bed, then headed over. “Hey, Zoey. Jess.” He leaned on Jess's door. “What's up?”

“Jess might need to look at apartments,” Zoey said.

“Yeah? I've got a few listings. Studio above the Caffeine Drip just opened up, pretty affordable. Free parking.” He paused, studying Jess's face. “You okay? You look like you've had a rough day.”

“Just a lot to think about,” Jess said.

“Well, apartment hunting might help. Give you something concrete to focus on.” He pulled out his phone. “I can show you the studio tomorrow if you want. Or I've got a one-bedroom on Creek Road that just came available—little more expensive but more space.”

“I don't even know if I'm staying in town,” Jess admitted. “I got a job offer in San Francisco.”