Chapter 16
Chapter sixteen
Rory
Hays pulls up right on time, carefully navigating the snow-packed street in his SUV.
“Thought you might’ve chickened out,” he says as I toss my duffel in the back and climb into the passenger seat.
I don’t reply but slam the door harder than necessary. Hays doesn’t pull away, just sits there, studying me in silence while I stare straight ahead.
“You look like hell.”
“Didn’t sleep much.”
“I bet you didn’t.” His grin is wicked, and his tone suggestive. “Though I’m guessing that had nothing to do with the storm and everything to do with—”
“Hays,” I growl.
“What? I’m just saying, snowed in with Tabitha for three days, I’m sure you’re exhausted—”
I side-eye my best friend with a look of warning. “Are we really doing this?”
“Oh, we’re absolutely doing this.”
“I’m not in the mood,” I reply with a heavy sigh. His grin fades.
“Wait. You really do look like hell. What happened?”
“Nothing happened. That’s the problem.”
He shifts into drive, pulling away from the curb with careful precision. The roads are plowed but still icy, forcing him to take it slow. We drive in silence for a block. Two. The town slides past the windows, but it barely registers.
“You didn’t tell her,” Hays says finally, “about the interview.”
It’s not a question.
“Why the hell not?”
I stare out the window at the white landscape. Snowdrifts piled everywhere. “She had us—had the whole thing—wrapped up with a bow. Neat and tidy. Even thanked me for being ‘kind.’”
Hays winces. “Ouch.”
“Yeah.”
We pull to a stop at a light, a huge decorated Christmas tree in the middle of what must be the town square.
“So you just…let her think you’re leaving?” he asks carefully. “Heading to the airport?”
“What was I supposed to do?” I run a hand through my hair, filling the confined space with my too-loud voice. “Say, ‘Hey Tabitha, I have a job interview this afternoon at the country club, but I didn’t want to tell you in case it doesn’t work out?'”
“You’re leaving yourself one hell of an out.” Hays’s voice is sharp.
I turn to look at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re hedging your bets.” He accelerates through the light, jaw tight. “If the job doesn’t work out, you can tell yourself you tried. That it just wasn’t meant to be. But you never actually put yourself on the line.”
“That’s not—”
He cuts me off. “Fair? Isn’t it?” There’s no humor in his voice now. “You let her think you’re leaving. So when you don’t take the job, she’ll be none the wiser. Will always believe you chose your old life over her. That you didn’t care enough to stay.”
The words hit like a fist to the gut.
“That way you get to keep your safety net,” Hays continues, relentless. “You get to protect yourself from actually risking anything real. From putting your heart out there and maybe getting it broken.”
“I’m not—” But the protest dies in my throat. Because he’s right.
Damn.
I’ve been so focused on making sure the job is right, on having all the pieces in place before telling Tabitha, that I didn’t see what I was really doing. Protecting myself. Leaving myself an escape route.
“Jesus,” I breathe.
Hays glances at me, his expression softening. “Look, I get it. You’ve spent years keeping things simple. No complications. No roots. It’s scary as hell to want something this much. Believe me, I know.”
My chest is tight. “What if she doesn’t—”
“Stop.” His voice is firm. “You won’t know until you tell her.
But from where I’m sitting it looks like she let you into her life, into her home, her bookstore.
She introduced you to her aunt. Let you help with a tradition that matters to her.
” He pauses. “And let me tell you, Tabitha’s not the type to let in someone like that. To accept help.”
He’s right; she’s not. I stare at the dashboard, my mind racing.
“But the real question is,” Hays continues, “would you rearrange your life to give what you have with Tabitha a real try, regardless of whether or not you take the job?”
The question cuts through everything else.
Do I want to stay?
Not because of some country club position. Not because it’s the safe, logical next step in my career, even if it is a few years early.
But for her. I want to stay for Tabitha and the way she makes me want things I’ve never wanted before.
For Sunday dinners at Aunt Mae’s where I’m welcomed like family. For quiet mornings in the kitchen and helping with traditions that matter and being part of a community. For the chance to be the person she lets in. The one who shows up. Who stays.
For roots with her.
“Yeah.” The word comes out rough. “I do. I want to stay. For her. Job or no job.”
“Then that’s what you need to tell her,” Hays says. “Not that you might stay if this interview works out. Not that you’re considering your options. That you’re staying. Period. That you’re choosing her, choosing this life, and you’ll figure out the rest.”
My heart is pounding now. “Turn the car around.”
“What?”
“Turn the car around. I've got time now. Before the interview. And I have to tell Tabitha first.”
A slow grin spreads across Hays’s face. “Now, you’re talking.”
The lighthouse from the harbor course at the country club is just coming into view in the distance when he turns off, onto a side street, to flip around and head back toward Main Street. Back toward the bookstore. Back toward my girl.
“You know what you’re going to say?” Hays asks.
“Not even a little bit.” But my chest feels lighter than it has in days. “But once I see her, I’m sure I’ll know.”
“I bet you will.” Hays navigates a turn, and I can see the town ahead now, Main Street with its snow-covered storefronts. Then he clears his throat. “Before we get there, I need you to say it.”
“Say what?”
“That I’m right. That, for once in our entire friendship, I’m the one giving solid advice.” He’s grinning like an idiot. “Come on. I want to hear it.”
I roll my eyes. “Are you serious right now?”
“Dead serious. Say it.”
“You’re right,” I mutter.
“What was that? Couldn’t hear you.”
“You’re right, Hays. Happy?”
“Ecstatic.” His grin widens. “For what it’s worth? I think you’re making the right call.”
“Even if she says no? Even if I’m reading her…reading this whole situation wrong?”
“Even then. At least, you’ll know you tried. That you put yourself out there.” He glances at me. “That’s all you can do, man. Show up, and tell the truth. Tell her how you feel.”
The bookstore comes into view, and my stomach drops. High Tide Tales with its twinkling lights in the window. Tabitha’s apartment above it, where we spent three days pretending this was just temporary.
Where I fell in love with her without meaning to.
“You want me to wait?” Hays asks as he pulls up to the curb.
“Nah.” I’m already opening the door. “This might take a while.”
“Good luck.”
I slam the door, grab my duffel bag from the back and stand on the snowy sidewalk, staring in the window, searching for her dark hair, but it’s not anywhere to be seen.
My heart hammers. My palms sweat, despite the cold. This is it. No safety net. No backup plan. Just me and the truth and hoping like hell the woman I’ve fallen for feels even a fraction of what I do.
I take a deep breath of icy air and grab the doorknob.