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I point at him. “One hour.”

“Forty-five minutes.”

“You’re terrible.”

“Runs in the family.”

By the time I pull into the driveway, it’s fully dark outside.

Ruby’s car is in her spot. Light glows through the front window on her side, and for a second I sit behind the wheel with both hands resting on it.

I know what I’m going to tell her.

I’m going on tour because I want to go, and Redwood Point is home because I want it to be.

I don’t expect her to pause her life while I’m gone, and I don’t want her fitting everything around mine just to prove we can survive four months apart. I want her to build whatever she wants at Black Fern. I want to hear about it from whatever city I’m in. I want to come home when I can, have her visit when it works for her, and stop treating every unknown as proof that something is about to fall apart.

There will be other tours if we’re lucky.

There will be other decisions, and I don’t need to solve every one of them tonight.

I cross the porch and knock on Ruby’s door.

Chapter twenty-seven

RUBY

By five-thirty on Friday, I own part of a tattoo shop.

Not enough of Black Fern to start knocking down walls or replacing furniture without asking anyone, but enough that my name is on the paperwork and a percentage of every decision made here belongs to me now.

I stare at the signed agreement on the desk for another few seconds before sliding it back across to the owner.

“That’s it?” I ask.

“That’s it.”

I expected something more dramatic. A bell. Champagne. Maybe a sudden wave of terror over the amount of money I just committed to a business in a town I moved to less than a year ago.

Instead, I mostly feel settled.

We’ve spent the last few days going through everything carefully. Financials, responsibilities, how decisions will be split, what happens if either of us eventually wants out. I read the contract twice on my own and once with an attorney before signing anything, because wanting this doesn’t mean I’ve completely lost my mind.

Now the paperwork is finished, and Black Fern is partly mine.

I already have ideas for guest artists, more local events, and a better way to showcase the custom work we do. None of those things suddenly became possible because I signed my name today, but they feel different now.

I’m not making suggestions about somebody else’s shop anymore. Now, I have a stake in what Black Fern becomes.

When I moved north, I told myself I wanted something quieter. I didn’t come here expecting to own part of anything.

I definitely didn’t come here expecting Zander Hale.

For the last few days, I’ve been getting very good at stopping myself from thinking about him for more than a few minutes at a time.

At work, it’s easy. There’s always something in front of me that requires concentration. A stencil that needs adjusting. A client who wants to talk through placement again. A drawing I can refine until every line sits where I want it.

Home is harder.