Chapter 12
Reece
Something's wrong.
I've known McKenna long enough to read the signs—the way she chews her bottom lip when she's anxious, how she gets quieter when she's working through something in her head, the distance in her eyes even when she's looking right at me.
Three days since Jett found us out, and McKenna's been doing all three.
It's Wednesday morning, and she's sitting at my kitchen table with her laptop open, fingers hovering over the keyboard but not actually typing. Her coffee has gone cold—I can tell by the way the steam stopped curling up from the mug twenty minutes ago—but she hasn't taken a sip since I poured it.
"You okay?" I ask, leaning against the counter with my own mug.
She startles, like she forgot I was here. "What? Yeah. Fine."
Fine: The most loaded word in the English language.
"Blue." I set my mug down and move closer, but she's already closing her laptop, that practiced smile sliding into place—the one she uses when she's trying to convince someone (or herself) that everything's under control.
"I'm just distracted. Lot on my mind."
"Want to talk about it?"
"Not really." She stands, carrying her laptop to the couch like she needs the physical distance. "I should probably start looking at apartments soon. Figure out my next steps."
The words hit like a punch to the gut. Apartments. Plural. Not an apartment here in Havenwood. Just...apartments.
"You're thinking about leaving." It's not a question.
She doesn't look at me. "I can't stay in your guest room forever, Reece."
"You haven't been in the guest room in two weeks."
"You know what I mean." She's scrolling through something on her screen now, deliberately not meeting my eyes. "I need to figure out what comes next. I can't just...drift."
I want to push, want to ask what changed between Saturday morning when we told Jett and now. But I've learned over the years that pushing McKenna when she's not ready only makes her dig her heels in harder.
"Okay," I say instead, and I watch something flicker across her face. Disappointment? Relief? I can't tell anymore.
She nods, already turning back to her laptop, and I grab my keys and head outside before I say something I'll regret.
***
By noon, I can't take it anymore. I need to talk to someone who actually understands how McKenna's brain works, and there's only one person who might have answers. I pull out my phone and call my sister.
"If you're calling to thank me for not showing up with a camera crew when I found you two, you're welcome," Jett answers, and I can hear the grin in her voice.
"I'm calling to make sure you're really okay with...everything."
"Reece. I'm fine. Like, actually fine, not my 'I'm fine but spiraling' fine."
She pauses. "Why? Did McKenna say something?"
"That's the problem. She's not saying anything." I run a hand through my hair, frustrated. "She's been weird since you left. Distant. This morning, she started looking at apartments in Raleigh."
Jett is quiet for a moment, and when she speaks again, her voice has lost its teasing edge. "Dude, she's spiraling."
"About what?"
"About everything. About deserving good things.
About whether this is real or just some holiday fling that'll fall apart when reality sets in.
" I hear her sigh. "She does this thing where she convinces herself she's a burden, that she's too much work, that people will eventually get tired of her and leave. So, she leaves first."
The words land heavy in my chest because they're true. I sat back and watched her do it in college, when things got too serious with that ex of hers. Last year, when she and I got too close and she ghosted me for three months.
"Don't let her run, Reece," Jett says quietly. "She'll try. She always does. But if you let her go without fighting for her, she'll convince herself that's proof she was right all along."
"How do I fight for someone who won't tell me what she's running from?"
"You show her she has a reason to stay that isn't just you. McKenna needs to build her own life, have her own purpose. She can't just be your girlfriend in your town working at your friend's business. She'll resent it eventually, and you'll both end up miserable."
She's right. I hate it, but she's right.
"She needs Havenwood to be hers," Jett continues. "Not yours. Hers.”
After we hang up, I sit in my truck for a long time, staring at the barn where I first kissed McKenna under the mistletoe, where I've been chasing her for years without ever actually asking her to stay.
You know you could stay, right?
We could figure it out together.
Vague offers. Safe suggestions. Never the actual words she needed to hear.
Stay. Build your life here. With me.
I pull out my phone and scroll to Lauren's number. If anyone knows what McKenna needs—what would make her want to build a life here—it's her co-teacher and friend. She answers on the second ring.
"Reece? Everything okay?"
"I need a favor," I say. "And I need you to not tell McKenna about it."
***
Thursday evening, I come home to find McKenna on the phone, pacing the length of my living room. She doesn't notice me at first, too focused on whatever conversation she's having.
"I appreciate you giving me time to think about it," she's saying, voice low.
"I know the board needs an answer...Yes, I understand they're being generous...Can I call you tomorrow?" She hangs up and turns, startling when she sees me in the doorway.
"Hey," she says too quickly, too bright. "How were the Flynns?"
"Fine." I set my keys on the counter, watching her carefully. "Who was that?"
"Just...nothing. Spam caller."
The lie sits between us, obvious and uncomfortable. She's never been good at lying to me—her tell is the way she won't quite meet my eyes, how her fingers fidget with whatever's in reach. Right now, it's the hem of her sweatshirt.
"McKenna—"
"I'm going to take a shower," she says, already moving toward the bathroom. "Long day." She disappears before I can stop her, and I'm left standing in the middle of my own house feeling like a stranger.
I pull out my phone and call Lauren back.
"How fast can you pull this together?"