Chapter Fifty-Seven
Elise
“Okay, run it again,” I told the high schooler leaning over the laptop. “And breathe this time.”
He hit enter like he was defusing a bomb.
The program ran clean.
His eyes went wide. “Wait . . . that’s it?”
“That’s it.” I couldn’t help smiling. “Sometimes the fix is embarrassingly simple.”
He sat back, stunned. “I spent three days on this. You fixed it in ten minutes.”
“Welcome to debugging. Eighty percent of the time, the problem is that you overthought it.”
He grinned like I’d handed him the keys to the universe. “You’re a wizard.”
“I’m just stubborn,” I said, but I was smiling too.
As he packed up, still shaking his head in happy disbelief, I felt something warm settle in my chest. Two weeks ago I never would’ve been here, tutoring kids in the back of Mabel’s café, learning the quirks of an industrial dishwasher, or being on a first-name basis with half the town.
Now it felt . . . right.
I slid the last rack of dishes into the machine and bumped it shut with my hip. Steam billowed up as it started.
“Careful,” Dorry called. “That thing gets feisty.”
“I’ve noticed,” I said dryly. “I have the burn mark to prove it.”
She laughed. “You’re getting good at this, city girl.”
“I’m getting less terrible. There’s a difference.”
“Same thing in my book.”
I wiped down the counter, the rhythm of it soothing. My mind drifted to this morning. To how I’d reinforced the police station’s sad little security system while two officers watched me like I was performing surgery. When I finished, one of them had blinked and said, “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” I’d replied.
They’d looked at me like I’d hung the moon. It was strangely addictive, that kind of straightforward gratitude.
The bell over the door jingled.
I didn’t have to look up. The air changed the second Brady walked in. He leaned across the counter, caught my face in his hands, and kissed me like we’d been apart for weeks instead of hours.
When he pulled back, his grin was pure trouble. “Hey, gorgeous.”
“Hey, yourself.” I was still a little breathless. “Shouldn’t you be working?”
“Fred sprained his wrist. I’m helping with some plumbing.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You? Plumbing?”
“I’m multi-talented,” he said solemnly. “Also, Fred needed an extra set of hands and I couldn’t not volunteer.”
“Uh-huh.” I crossed my arms, fighting a smile. “Or you saw an opportunity to play small-town hero and look ridiculously attractive while doing manual labor.”
He didn’t even deny it. “Can’t it be both?”
I laughed.
He rested his forearms on the counter, studying me with that warm, focused look that always made my stomach flip. “How’s your day?”
“Productive. I fixed the police security system, saved a high schooler from digital despair, and only broke one plate.”
“New personal best.”
“I thought so.”
He reached over and tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “You like it here.”
It wasn’t really a question.
“I do,” I said softly. “More than I expected to.”
Brady’s expression went tender in a way that made my chest ache with something good. “Good. Because I really like you here.”
The café noise faded for a second. Just him and me and the quiet understanding that we were building something real.
I cleared my throat. “Have you heard anything from your dad?”
His face sobered. “He’s talking to me. Just . . . not about anything that matters. Professional-level avoidance.”
“Sounds familiar. My father arrived at home upset, according to Keaton. Disappointed in me.” I shrugged, trying to keep it light. “Still no call.”
Brady nodded, jaw tight for a moment, then deliberately softened. “We knew it wouldn’t be instant.”
“Yeah.” I let out a breath. “But we’re still here. Still trying. That counts for something.”
“It counts for a lot.”
He leaned in again, slower this time, and kissed me like he was making a promise. Deep. Warm. A kiss that made the world feel manageable.
Someone in the back whistled. “Get a room!”
Brady pulled back with a laugh. I felt my cheeks heat, but I was grinning.
“Later,” he murmured against my lips. “Right now I’ve got pipes to wrestle and a beautiful woman to impress.”
“Go be heroic,” I said, giving him a little push. “I’ll be here, living dangerously with industrial appliances.”
He stole one last quick kiss before heading out, tossing another over his shoulder, “Love you, trouble.”
The words hit me square in the chest.
I stood there smiling long after the door closed behind him.
Dorry passed by with a knowing look. “That boy’s got it bad.”
“Yeah,” I said, still smiling. “Lucky me.”
For the first time in my life, I wasn’t running toward the next goal or proving anything to anyone.
I was exactly where I wanted to be.
And it felt like coming home.