CHAPTER 23
The silence didn’t break all at once. It was like a rubber band slowly being expanded and stretched. It became something neither of them could name.
Randi noticed it first in the spaces of time throughout her day. It was the thought of him, how it felt to touch him, kiss him, be with him. It racked her brain … creeping in at first, and then, like a throbbing toothache, a primal need.
Then, she reached for her phone and stopped remembering how his name no longer rang in and popped up on her cell as often as it once had.
The way their conversations were, when they happened, felt careful, as if both of them were trying not to disturb something already fragile and nearly broken.
She told herself it was timing, the distance, and life moving faster than either of them had planned.
But late at night, when all was quiet and the city had settled into stillness, the truth pressed in harder.
God, she missed him. It wasn’t a casual need, it was like everything else felt slightly out of place and a gap that needed to be closed.
Across the country, Brew stood in the doorway of his office, watching the last patient of the day leave.
The clinic was thriving and growing every day. Everything he had hoped it would become, happened. Yet, when the door closed, the satisfaction didn’t stay. It never did. There was a massive void in his life.
He reached for his phone.
Stopped. Then he finished the motion anyway. Her name stared back at him. It felt familiar, near, but so far away. The need was strong. He waited, looking at the clock on the far wall. It was mid-morning and she was probably deep in creativity.
He didn’t call. Not this time, again. Because he already knew how it would go. They would talk, briefly, carefully, and he wanted more.
Her there by his side.
He set the phone down. And for the first time, he admitted it wasn’t working. Not like this.
Randi stood in the middle of her studio, surrounded by work that had once felt like progress. Now it felt like something else. It felt incomplete and disconnected. Or was it her that had become that way.
Her gaze landed on a smaller canvas leaning against the wall. The one she hadn’t shown anyone. The one she had started after that night.
She crossed the room slowly, lifting it carefully. The image stared back at her. A field of wildflowers. Butterflies caught mid-motion.
And two figures seated close together, their bodies turned slightly toward one another, the space between them nonexistent. Both connected and certain of each other.
Her fingers brushed lightly over the surface.
“This is what I want,” she whispered.
The realization came quietly and didn’t dwindle. It consumed her.
She set the canvas down, turned, and immediately made a decision that made her smile broadly … warm … happily … emotionally.
Across the country, Brew did the same.
Randi moved through her cottage with a clarity she hadn’t felt in weeks.
Drawers were opened with clothing haphazardly thrown about.
Her closet was emptied.
The life she had built there—carefully, deliberately—became meaningless.
Not abandoned.
Chosen.
She paused only once in the center of the room, her gaze moving slowly across the space that had held her for so long.
“You were safe,” she said softly. But it’s not the same as living.
Her phone rang and she didn’t answer. Because for the first time she knew exactly what she needed to do.
She made a call to the Director of the Institute. It was brief, respectful, and final.
“I’m grateful for the opportunity,” she said. “But I need to take a different path.”
When she ended the call, she stood still for a moment, giving regret and doubt a moment to set in. Neither of them came. Instead, it was relief that filled her and warmed her soul.
Across the country, Brew stood outside the clinic, the Montana sky stretching endlessly above him.
His phone was in his hand.
This time, he didn’t hesitate. He had held off accepting the position, not knowing if he wanted to move up that high. Coming back home had been the right choice. His transition went smoothly.
“I’m calling about the position,” he said when the line connected. “I accept.”
The words settled into something solid and certain. He ended the call and looked out across the land. Toward everything he had built. Everything he was still building and continuing to expand. And the one thing he couldn’t do without, he was going for.
Randi moved quickly after that. She called a realtor for a fast appointment to list her home, hired help to pack up her cottage, rented a storage unit for all her belongings and a mover to get it there. Arrangements made with a focus that surprised even her.
Her cottage went on the market with ease.
Her life began to pack itself into something portable and ready. It all moved quickly in a matter of a few days.
At the airport, she moved with purpose with her one-way ticket in hand and the destination set.
Montana.
Back in Montana, Brew stepped into his truck, the decision already made. He didn’t call ahead and didn’t warn anyone. He didn’t pack and simply drove.
Because this time -
He wasn’t waiting. He would call his parents once he was on his plane.
Two separate paths.
Two separate decisions.
Moving toward the same place.
Without knowing the other was already on their way.