30. The Point of No Return
Chapter thirty
The Point of No Return
Brody
The back lawns at Stirling HQ are almost unrecognizable.
Gazebos, stalls, picnic blankets, someone basically gave the town a blank check and said, “Go nuts.” Even the lake’s transformed into a makeshift concert venue.
Festival stage, sound equipment stacked like a roadie’s wet dream.
It looks like the resurrection Woodstock.
“This is overkill,” I mutter to Mason, low enough so I don’t end up on someone’s gossip blog. “It’s two clowns short of a full-blown circus.”
Not that anyone can hear me over the screaming kids hyped up on cotton candy, and the DJ’s speaker setup currently rattling the trees. The whole town’s here. And it’s fucking loud.
My going-away bash. Somewhere between “Thanks, Brody” and a not so subtle “Good riddance.” Pretty sure I saw two people high-five when I showed up. They’ll probably pop champagne the second my ass leaves town.
“Yeah, well, let’s be real,” Mason says. “Most of them are here for the free donuts and cheap beer.”
Café Guy raises his cup. “Mr. Stirling! Good to see you!”
Progress, I guess.
Mason claps my shoulder. “Relax, man. Half of them are celebrating your legacy. The other half are here to confirm you’re actually leaving.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Mayor Dawson walk toward us. I don’t have time to wipe the sarcasm off my face.
“I’ve got a bone to pick with you,” he says, eyebrows pulling together like this is serious business. And maybe it is. Because that’s exactly what I need, last minute town drama before I skip the country.
Mason stiffens next to me, ready to tag in if Dawson starts swinging.
“What’s the problem, Mayor?” I try to keep it polite.
He doesn’t answer.
Instead, he grins. Points upward.
“Look up, Stirling.”
I squint. “What?”
“Look up.”
I do. Gray clouds. Dreary. Definitely not what we ordered.
“You packed up our summer sunshine by mistake!” He bursts into a wheezy laugh, like he’s the funniest bastard on Earth.
Expert level dad joke, cringe.
Mason and I give him the obligatory chuckle, but it’s the kind of half-assed, please stop before you make it worse kind of laugh. The gray clouds overhead might match my mood, but I hadn’t noticed them until he pointed them out.
“It’ll feel different without you around,” Dawson says, voice suddenly dipped in sincerity. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m gonna miss the upheaval. Not much excitement in a place like this, you kept the job interesting.”
Mason raises his drink. “Don’t worry, Mayor. There’ll be hiccups. Big projects like this never go as planned.”
“Don’t jinx it,” I shoot back. “Stirling Tech’s built on clean execution. Let’s keep the streak alive.”
Dawson shrugs, sipping his drink like he doesn’t care either way.
Maybe if we push his buttons enough, we’ll wake up his inner control freak and convince him to stay.” Mason winks.
“Inner?” Dawson snorts. “The man bleeds Type A.”
He’s laying it on thick today, but I can’t really blame him. After months of skepticism and press briefings, the town people are finally warming up to me. Sort of. A short speech and some PR magic from Shelly, and suddenly I’m not the town villain anymore.
If only things with Chloe were that simple.
I nod along, doing my best to stay present, but my brain is spiraling. She’s not here. Still.
“Claire and Norman couldn’t make it?” I ask, casual. To casual.
Dawson narrows his eyes. “They’re running late. Why? Something you need from them?”
Shit. “Nope. Just making conversation.”
I clear my throat, shifting like that’ll shake her out of my head, but no dice. My brain’s a broken record, Where the hell is she?
Everyone knows about us now. Festival night blew the lid off that little secret. But even with the secret out, things still feel... murky. Unspoken.
The last few days were intense. Like, next-level connection. Sex, sure. But everything else too. That feeling when her fingers are in my hair and it means something. But we never talked. We didn’t want to mess it up. Now it feels like there’s a mountain of unresolved shit between us.
I’m starting to wonder if silence was a bigger mistake. Is Chloe just another woman I hooked up with during a work trip?
The thought makes me nauseous.
I’m still trying to choke it down when Dawson suggests hitting the cinnamon donut stall, but food’s the last thing on my mind.
“No thanks.” I wave him off. “Still have some last-minute packing to do.”
Total lie. I’ve been packed since yesterday.
“I figured you’d be more organized,” he says, giving my hand a firm share like we’re old friends. “It’s been a pleasure, Stirling. It’s been one hell of a ride.”
I grunt something that passes as thanks and pivot away, nausea climbing higher. Mason trails me.
“Bullshit,” he says, eyebrows up.
“What?”
I head toward the building. “You’re running this project now. What are you so worked up about?”
“Don’t spin this on me,” he snaps. “I know you. You have that ‘spiraling but trying to hide it’ look.”
Before I can deflect again, Sylvie strolls by with Grammy Gillespie. The old woman hobbles along. She has a shrewd look in her eyes like she knows exactly what’s going on.
“You’re a good boy,” she wheezes, patting my arm. “You made the right choice.”
I bow my head, thinking she means the project. “Thanks. It was an easy one. Bluepeak’s worth protecting.”
She cackles. “I wasn’t talking about your damn development.”
I meet Sylvie’s gaze, hoping for clarification, but she gives me a look and keeps walking, guiding Grammy away. It leaves me standing here like fate bitch slapped me across the face.
“What the hell was that?” I mutter, turning back to Mason.
His eyes narrow, disappointment etched in his expression.
“For someone so detail-obsessed, you’re remarkably dense about the obvious.”
“Which is?”
“You’re having at least one beer with me before you go.” He drags me toward the lake.
Ted sees us coming and hands over two cold ones without a word. Mason pays and hands me one.
“You know I hate drinking before flying.”
“Suck it up,” he fires back, zero mercy in his tone.
We settle near the lake, the music quieter out here.
“So.” He starts. “What’s the verdict on you and Chloe?”
I straighten, groaning internally. Here we go. “There’s no verdict,” I answer honestly. “We didn’t talk about it.”
He raises an eyebrow. Not buying it for a second. “You two have been inseparable. Don’t tell me it didn’t come up.”
“It came up.” I admit, downing a gulp of beer. “We… didn’t push it. Didn’t want it to ruin the moment.”
He makes a face. “That sounds like top-tier avoidance to me. Now you’re about to jet off to another country, and she’s not even here. Have you called her? Is she coming?”
I snap. “Back off, Mason.” The frustration spills out under his prodding. “This is already hard enough. I don’t need you digging into it.”
He posture shifts, completely unfazed. “You’re my best friend. My nose belongs in anything that makes you look like this.” He motions to my face, which probably looks as shitty as I feel.
“You’re not the guy who deals in uncertainties.”
I know. I fucking know.
“Well, I was hoping she’d be here today so we could talk.”
“You’re leaving!” Mason’s frustration vibrating the air between us, and I can’t deny it anymore.
Yes, I’m leaving. I’ve known that all along but hearing it from him like this, makes the whole thing feel a hundred times worse.
She probably thinks I’m done with her. That I’m some asshole who’s moving on to the next city, next project, next woman, business as usual.
That bitter taste creeps up my throat. I swallow it, force it down lik the coward I’m starting to feel like.
He’s right. What’s the point in talking?
I’m heading out anyway, jetting off to Japan while Chloe stays here.
I should’ve forced the conversation earlier, made her choose.
Made us face it. But we didn’t, and now, I have no idea what’s going through her head.
“I’m not a fucking mind reader,” I snap, taking a long swig of my drink. It doesn’t help. “I don’t know what Chloe’s thinking and neither do you. Things were fine last time I saw her, no reason to assume…”
“ You’re a piece of work .” Mason cuts me off, dead serious. “You’re in love with her, and you’re gonna let it slip away? For what? Work?”
“I’m not letting anything slip,” I hiss, looking over the crowd for anyone close enough to hear. “She has her own life here. She’s not the type to pack up and leave everything she knows, and I’ll never force her to.”
His expression doesn’t shift. No heat, no judgment, a merciless question that rips straight through my denial.
“What about you?”
I choke. Literally choke on my next sip of beer, sputtering like a moron.
“What?” I cough out, blinking at him as if he’s speaking some language I’ve never learned.
Because… yeah. What about me?
My plane is fueled. My bags are packed. Tanaka’s expecting me. Stirling Tech’s next development is already in motion. Every part of my life has been leading toward this next step.
Mason finishes his drink and tosses it into the nearest trash can, courtside confidence and this whole thing is a game he’s already won. Smug as hell.
“You ever think about not going?”
What the fuck, no.
“Not going?”
“If she’s not ready to leave Bluepeak, maybe you’re the one who stays. You’re the boss. You get to decide what the hell you do.” He says too calm, it pisses me.
And now I’m spinning. Not go? I’ve never not gone. There’s always the next job, the next project, the next destination. No one’s ever made me second-guess it. To think about staying is like throwing a grenade into the part of my brain that runs entirely on control and schedules and exit strategies.
The music stops, making Mason’s revelation ring loud in my ears.
Amelia’s voice cuts through the crowd as she taps the mic, beaming, rallying the town for “Bluepeak’s new beginning.”
The applause swells, but it’s background noise now. I can’t register the words. Only Mason’s.
Stay.
Could I stay?
I have the option, it’s been glaring at me, and I’ve been too blind to see it.
There’s nothing stopping me. Not really. Except her. And that part kills me. She hasn’t asked me to stay, hasn’t hinted that she’d want me to. And now I’m left wondering… maybe she doesn’t. I could have been temporary for her. A fling. Something safe because it had an expiration date.
“Let’s give it up for Mr. Brody Stirling!” Amelia’s voice turns sharp in my ears, the crowd cheers, congratulating me for… what exactly?
They're clapping for a version of me that doesn’t exist anymore.
I should be proud. Instead, my stomach twists like I’m about to walk away from the only thing that’s ever really felt important.
My phone buzzes, excellent timing, it’s my pilot. I’d rather be on that plane, far away from this mental mess, sticking to something predictable like a goddamn itinerary.
Control. That’s what I need.
“My plane’s ready,” I mutter to Mason, tucking the phone away. “You stay, represent Stirling Tech.”
He’s half-checked out, eyes locked on Harper, already halfway to whipped.
“You sure?” he asks, distracted.
“I’m sure.” I clap him on the back. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”
We don’t do drawn-out goodbyes. Only a nod, a step away, and it’s done. Exactly how I want it.
Except it doesn’t feel done.
I scan the crowd one last time for Chloe. Nothing.
By the time we roll into the private terminal lot, I’m a fucking mess. I can still feel her warm skin against mine. The way she looked at me when I kissed her neck. The sound she made when she laughed into my chest. Her fingers in my hair. Her breath in my ear.
I should’ve laid it all out. But no, I shut down. Like always.
Harry’s already out, popping the trunk, hauling my bags.
But I can’t do it. I can’t board the plane and pretend walking away doesn’t wreck me. I’m not leaving her like this.
Enough hiding behind excuses. I let fear call the shots. Let pride bury what mattered, and whatever the hell’s been going on with me, push her away.
That ends now.
“Put them back in the car.” My pulse hammers, but I stand my ground. “I’m done running.”
Harry pauses, one hand still on my bag, his eyes flicking toward the plane like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have, but she’s it, and I’ll fight for her, even if I have to crawl back through every mistake I’ve made.
Because I’m not leaving the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me.