9. Serena
9
SERENA
S erena's hands gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white as she drove back home. The late afternoon sun glared through her windshield and made her squint behind her glasses. She blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears forming in her eyes fall.
"Stupid, stubborn bear," she muttered, jabbing at her radio buttons. The silence in her car felt too heavy. "As if I'm the only one to blame for what happened."
A country song crackled through her speakers, some sappy love ballad about second chances. She switched it off quickly.
Her mind drifted back to that night ten years ago, the memory as sharp as broken glass. "You're choosing your career over us," Logan had said then, his words echoing in her head now.
"Because it was my dream!" She smacked her palm against the steering wheel, then immediately felt foolish for arguing with a memory. "And you could have... you could have..."
What? What exactly could he have done? Followed her to the city? Left his family's land? She hadn't even given him the chance to suggest alternatives.
Serena pulled over to the side of the road, her chest suddenly tight. The trees lining the street swayed in the breeze. Their leaves danced with the same restless energy that coursed through her.
She pulled her glasses off and pressed her palms against her eyes. "I did the exact same thing today that I did ten years ago. Just stormed off without letting him finish."
Her phone buzzed in her purse. Probably Julie, wanting to know how things went at the sanctuary. Serena ignored it.
"Ten years ago, I was so sure I was right." She dropped her hands to her lap, staring at the blurry dashboard. "Now I'm not sure about anything anymore."
The truth settled over her like a heavy blanket. She'd been so young, so certain that running away and never looking back was the answer. And today, she'd fallen right back into the same pattern - running away when things got difficult.
"Maybe we're both stubborn idiots," she whispered, a watery laugh escaping her lips.
Half an hour later, Serena trudged through her front door, dropping her purse on the floor with a thud. The check from Logan crinkled in her pocket as she flopped onto her secondhand couch, its springs creaking in protest.
"At least the animals are doing better," she muttered to the empty room. Her voice echoed off the bare walls - she still hadn't unpacked her pictures. The boxes loomed in the corner like cardboard sentinels, judging her lack of progress.
Her phone buzzed again. Julie's name flashed on the screen.
"Not now," Serena sighed, silencing it. She'd have to face her friend's questions eventually, but right now she just wanted to wallow.
The sunset painted her living room in shades of orange and pink through the dusty windows. She should clean them. She should unpack. She should do a lot of things.
Instead, she kicked off her shoes and curled up on the couch, pulling the throw blanket around her shoulders. The house creaked and settled around her, its unfamiliar sounds a constant reminder that this wasn't really home yet.
"Maybe I should get a cat," she mused, then laughed at herself. "Right, because that's exactly what I need - another living thing depending on me when I can't even figure out my own life."
Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn't eaten since breakfast. The kitchen beckoned, but the thought of cooking felt overwhelming. She dragged herself up and opened her nearly empty fridge.
"Well, that's depressing." Three eggs, half a carton of milk, and some questionable takeout containers stared back at her. "Even my refrigerator is judging my life choices."
The check in her pocket would help with groceries, at least. But it wasn't a long-term solution. She closed the fridge and leaned against it, sliding down until she sat on the cold tile floor.
"Come on, Serena," she whispered to herself. "You used to be good at fixing things. That's what you do - fix sick animals, make potions, solve problems." She pulled her glasses off and rubbed her eyes. "So why can't you fix your own life?"
The kitchen clock ticked loudly in response, its rhythm matching her racing thoughts. Outside, a car door slammed, and voices drifted up from the street - other people living their normal, put-together lives.
Serena soon pulled her laptop from her bag and settled back on the couch. Her browser history was filled with job searches and clinic listings. But each tab was a dead end. She clicked through them again, hoping she'd missed something.
"Maybe I should've stayed in the city," she muttered. The screen's glow highlighted the faint circles under her eyes. "At least there I had more options."
Her savings account balance glared at her from another tab - a number that kept shrinking with each passing week. The divorce had cleaned her out more than she'd expected, and her ex-husband's lawyer had been ruthlessly efficient.
"I could start my own practice." She opened a spreadsheet she'd made earlier that week, full of calculations and estimates. The numbers hadn't gotten any friendlier. "Right, because that only requires a small fortune I don't have."
Her phone buzzed again. Julie's text read: "Stop ignoring me or I'll flood your bathroom."
Serena snorted and typed back: "You wouldn't dare. My plumbing's ancient enough without your water magic messing with it."
"Then answer your phone, you hermit."
"I'm working."
"You're overthinking. I know you."
Serena sighed and set the phone down. The cursor blinked on her screen, mocking her indecision. She'd applied to every clinic within fifty miles of Saltwater Grove. Even the ones that weren't hiring, just in case.
"What was I thinking?" She closed the laptop and slumped deeper into the couch. "Coming back here with no job, no plan..." The ceiling offered no answers. "Great going, Serena. You've really outdone yourself this time."
The doorbell startled Serena from her spiral of self-pity. She dragged herself off the couch, assuming Julie had made good on her threat to check up on her.
"I swear if you've come to lecture me-" The words died in her throat as she opened the door.
Logan stood on her tiny porch, his broad shoulders making the space seem even smaller. His dark hair was windswept, and he'd changed out of his work clothes into a soft-looking t-shirt. The porch light caught the gold flecks in his brown eyes.
"Hey." He shifted his weight, hands shoved deep in his pockets. "Julie gave me your address. I, uh, hope that's okay."
Serena's heart thundered against her ribs. Her hair was a mess, she hadn't changed out of her work clothes, and her house was still mostly in boxes. Not exactly how she'd planned on having company - especially not this particular company.
"I needed to apologize." Logan said, his voice softer than usual. "What I said earlier about you leaving... that wasn't fair. I've had ten years to think about it, and I was just as much to blame. More, probably."
The crickets chirped in the growing darkness, filling the silence between them. A cool breeze carried the scent of pine trees and something distinctly Logan - a mix of wood and forest that made her chest ache with memories.
"I was young and stupid and so damn set in my ways." He let out a short laugh. "Still am, sometimes. But I should have supported your dreams instead of making you choose. You wanted to be a vet - that was important to you. I see that now, watching you with the animals at the sanctuary."
Serena's fingers tightened on the doorframe, her knuckles white. She wanted to speak, but her throat felt too tight.
"And speaking of the sanctuary..." Logan met her eyes, his expression earnest. "I'd still like your help, if you're willing. The animals need you. And maybe..." He cleared his throat. "Maybe we could do better than we did before."
Serena's mouth opened and closed, her brain struggling to form words. The porch light cast shadows across Logan's face, highlighting the sincerity in his expression.
"I..." She pushed her glasses up her nose, buying time to collect her thoughts. "Thank you. For coming here, I mean. And for saying that."
Logan shifted his weight, the wooden boards creaking beneath his feet. The sound broke through her hesitation.
"I'm sorry too," Serena said. "For today and... for back then. I was so focused on proving I could make something more of myself that I didn't consider other options. We could've talked about it more, figured something out together."
"We were both pretty stubborn," he admitted. "Still are, apparently."
"Speak for yourself." Serena crossed her arms but couldn't help returning his smile. "I'm perfectly reasonable now."
"Says the woman who stormed off mid-argument today."
"I prefer to call it a strategic retreat." Heat crept into her cheeks. "And you're the one who decided to bring up ancient history."
Logan chuckled, and the sound sent a warmth through her. "Fair enough. So, fresh start?"
"Fresh start," she agreed. "I'll come by tomorrow morning to check on the animals. And maybe we can work on a better defense plan for the sanctuary."
"Sounds good." He stepped back, his boots scuffing against the wood. "Get some rest, Serena."
As she watched him walk to his truck, the night air carried the scent of pine needles and possibility.
Back inside, Serena leaned against her closed door. Her reflection in the hallway mirror showed flushed cheeks and bright eyes. She looked... happy. The realization startled a laugh out of her.
"Well," she said to her empty house, "that was unexpected."
Her phone buzzed with a text from Julie: "Did he grovel appropriately?"
Serena typed back: "None of your business, you meddling water witch."
"You're welcome."