Chapter 13
Reece
Friday morning, McKenna is quieter than ever. She makes coffee but doesn't drink it, as she scrolls through her phone with that faraway look in her eyes. I catch her staring at the mistletoe in the hallway like it represents something that happened to someone else.
"I need to run into town," I say, grabbing my jacket. "Want to come with?"
She hesitates, and I can see her weighing whether to decline. Finally, she nods. "Sure. I could use the fresh air."
The drive into Havenwood is quiet. She stares out the window at the familiar streets—the square with its twinkle lights still up, the shops we've walked past a dozen times, the gazebo where the town holds its summer concerts. I wonder if she's memorizing it or saying goodbye.
When I pull up in front of the empty retail space across from The Write Brew, she frowns.
"Why are we here?"
"I want to show you something." I kill the engine and come around to open her door. "Trust me?"
She looks at me for a long moment, and I can see the war in her eyes—trust versus self-preservation. Finally, she takes my hand and lets me lead her to the door.
The "For Lease" sign that's been haunting this window for months is gone. In its place, someone has painted a sign in the window—bright, bold letters that catch the morning light.
Naughty Peach Athletics - Coming Soon
McKenna stops dead. "What...what is this?"
I unlock the door—Noah gave me the key last night—and push it open.
Inside, the space has been transformed. Not much, not yet, but enough.
There are boxes stacked along one wall, yoga mats rolled and ready.
A folding table holds printed business plans, letters from potential clients, a lease agreement with terms that would make anyone's jaw drop.
And standing in the middle of it all, looking way too proud of themselves, are Lauren, Jett, Mrs. Flynn, Jace Riley, and half of Havenwood's small business owners.
"Surprise," Lauren says softly.
McKenna's hand goes to her mouth, eyes already filling with tears as she takes it all in the space, the people, the sign in the window. "I don't...I don't understand."
I step up beside her, close enough that our shoulders touch. "I know you got a job offer. I know you've been looking at apartments in Raleigh. And I know you think you have to choose between having a career and being with me."
She starts to protest, but I press on. "But what if you didn't have to choose? What if you could have both?"
I gesture to the space around us. "And since Noah is the landlord, that part was easy since he’s been holding it for you all this time.
The Flynns agreed to be your first corporate clients—team building sessions, wellness programs, the whole thing.
Jace wants to sponsor a community fitness class at Riley's.
And Jett"—I glance at my sister, who's wiping her own eyes—"Jett has been calling every mom in a fifty-mile radius to drum up interest."
"We have twenty people ready to sign up for classes," Lauren adds. "And that's just in three days."
McKenna is crying now, full tears streaming down her face as she looks around the room. "You did all this? For me?"
"We did," Jett says, stepping forward. "Because you are family, and family doesn't let family make stupid decisions out of fear."
"I should have asked you to stay weeks ago," I say quietly, taking McKenna's hand.
"I should have told you that I want mornings with terrible coffee and evenings on the porch arguing about Christmas decorations.
I should have said that I want all of it—the good days and the hard ones, the certainty and the chaos. "
She's shaking her head, but I can't tell if it's denial or disbelief.
"I'm asking now. Not because I need you—though I do. But because you deserve to build the life you want. And if you want that life here, in Havenwood, we'll all help you build it."
I take a breath, hoping the next words land right. "Stay. Not for me. For you."
For a long moment, she doesn't say anything. Just stands there crying in the middle of an empty retail space that could be hers, surrounded by people who showed up at eight in the morning on a Friday to prove that she belongs here.
Then she laughs, a broken, watery sound. "I can't believe you did this."
"Is that a good 'can't believe' or a bad one?" Jace asks nervously.
McKenna wipes her eyes, still laughing. "I already turned down the job."
The room goes silent.
"What?" I ask.
"Nathan called on Tuesday. He offered me my position back." She looks at me now, really looks at me, and I can see everything she's been carrying written in her eyes. "I told him no. I turned it down three days ago."
"Then why—"
"Because I've been terrified," she says, the words tumbling out now. "I turned down a guaranteed paycheck and stable career for...what? A maybe? A hope that I could make something work in a town where I'm still an outsider?"
"You're not an outsider, honey," Mrs. Flynn says firmly. "You're one of us."
"I've been looking at this space for months," McKenna continues, gesturing around us.
"Running numbers in my head, trying to figure out if I could afford it.
" She laughs again. "I chose you. I chose this town.
I was just too scared to say it out loud because what if I failed? What if I wasn't enough?"
I pull her closer, my forehead resting against hers. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Why didn't you tell me you wanted me to stay?" She pulls back enough to meet my eyes. "Actually stay, not just 'you can if you want.' I needed you to ask, Reece. I needed to know this wasn't just me wanting something you were too polite to say no to."
"I didn't want you to feel trapped."
"And I didn't want you to feel responsible for me."
We stare at each other for a beat, and then we're both laughing—at the absurdity, at how we've been dancing around the same fears, at how we almost lost this because we were both too stubborn to just say what we wanted.
"We're idiots," I say.
"The absolute worst," she agrees.
"So." I brush a tear from her cheek. "No more hiding. No more being scared. We do this together. Deal?"
"Deal."
I kiss her then, right there in the middle of her future studio, with our friends and family watching and probably taking photos for Jett's Pinterest board. When I pull back, I catch sight of something over McKenna's head.
Mistletoe. Hanging from the ceiling beam.
Of course.
"Did you—" McKenna starts, following my gaze.
"That was me," Jett admits sheepishly. "I hung it this morning. Seemed appropriate."
McKenna laughs, the sound lighter than I've heard in days, and when she looks at me again, the fear is gone from her eyes. Just certainty. Just home.
"You two are disgustingly cute," Jett announces, "and I deserve an award for not ruining this moment with my chaos. But also, I'm crying and need someone to hug me since Noah’s at work, so..."
She's immediately surrounded by Lauren and Mrs. Flynn, both of them laughing through their own tears.
McKenna looks around at all of them—at Lauren, who helped her pack up her classroom when she lost her job. At Jett, who's been her person since college. At the Flynns and Jace and all the others who showed up before dawn to build her a future.
"Thank you," she says, voice thick. "All of you. I don't know how to—"
"You don't have to," Mrs. Flynn says warmly. "That's what community does. We show up."
Jace starts talking about the timeline for renovations. Lauren pulls out a binder—of course she has a binder—with class schedules and pricing structures. The Flynns are already arguing about whether they want morning or evening sessions.
And McKenna stands in the middle of it all, holding my hand, looking at this space that could be hers—that is hers now—and I can see the exact moment she allows herself to believe it.
She's staying.
Not because she has to. Not because I asked, but because this is where she wants to be.
***
Later, after everyone has left and it's just the two of us in the empty space, McKenna leans against the window and looks out at the square.
"I was going to surprise you," she admits quietly. "I'd been running numbers, making plans. I wanted to have it all figured out before I told you. I didn't want you to think I was staying because I had nowhere else to go."
"And now?"
"Now I'm realizing that maybe having it all figured out isn't the point." She turns to face me. "Maybe the point is doing it together. The figuring out part, I mean."
I pull her close, and she comes easily, fitting against me like she's always belonged there. "For what it's worth, I like the together version better."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
She tips her head up, and I kiss her under the mistletoe Jett hung, in the space that's going to be hers, with the whole town square visible through the window behind us.
"I'm still terrified," she whispers against my lips.
"Good. Me too. But we'll figure it out."
"Together?"
"Together."
When we finally leave, locking the door behind us and leaving the keys with McKenna, she stops to look at the temporary sign one more time.
"Spring," she says decisively. "I want to open in spring."
"Spring," I agree, and I can already picture it—the grand opening, the town showing up in force, McKenna in her element teaching and building and becoming exactly who she was always meant to be.
Not just my girlfriend. Not just Jett's best friend. Not just the woman I've been chasing for years.
McKenna Monroe. Business owner. Havenwood local. Home.
As we drive back to my place—our place, at least until she decides what she wants to do about that—I catch her smiling at her phone.
"What?"
She turns the screen to show me. A text from Jett:
Jett:
I KNEW IT! Pinterest board vindicated. Also, you're buying me dinner for emotional distress. And by that, I mean happy tears. Noah doesn't like when I cry. Love you.
McKenna is still smiling when she leans over to kiss my cheek.
"Thank you. For fighting for me. For asking me to stay."
"Thank you for staying," I say. "For choosing this. For choosing us."
"Always," she whispers, and I believe her.
Four months until spring. Four months to build something real, something lasting, something that's ours—not just mine, not just hers, but the beautiful complicated mess we're making together.
I can't wait.