Chapter 28
Going Public
Grayson
The whole town showed up.
I shouldn't be surprised. That's Maple Glen. But standing on the steps of town hall with Kate's hand locked in mine — seeing every face we've gotten to know over these months — it hits different than I expected.
Mrs. Everly stands front and center, clutching a tissue like she already knows she's going to need it.
Beside her, Doc Martinez has his arms crossed, looking both amused and protective.
The coffee shop crew waves from the back.
Even grumpy Old Man Henderson showed up, though he's pretending it's for the free donuts.
I clear my throat, and the murmuring dies down.
"Thank you all for coming," I start. "I know this is unusual. But, Kate and I wanted to talk to you before we leave."
Someone shouts, "You're leaving?" The panic in their voice makes Kate squeeze my hand harder.
"Temporarily. We'll be back. But first, there's something we need to say. Something we should have said weeks ago."
I glance at Kate. She nods, giving me that small smile that makes everything feel possible.
I turn back to the crowd and take a breath.
"Kate and I are together. For real."
The silence lasts exactly two seconds.
Then Mrs. Everly bursts into tears. "I knew it! I told everyone! Didn't I tell you?"
Doc Martinez chuckles. "You told us about fifty times, Everly."
"I had a bet going with Linda at the library," someone calls out. "She said it would take another month!"
Laughter ripples through the crowd, warm and genuine. Kate's shoulders relax beside me, and I feel my own tension start to ease.
"We know some of you had questions," Kate says, her voice steadier than I expected. "About why we were here. About what was real and what wasn't."
She pauses, and I see her gathering herself. This part is harder for her — admitting vulnerability in front of people she's come to care about.
"The truth is, we came here running from different things. Both trying to figure out what came next. And somewhere along the way, we stopped running."
Her voice cracks slightly on the last word. I pull her closer.
"Somewhere along the way," I continue, "we found something worth staying for. Worth fighting for."
Mrs. Everly fans herself with her tissue. "Oh, this is better than my soap operas."
"We're grateful," I say, looking out at the faces that have become familiar over these months. "For the way you welcomed us. For making us feel like we belonged here, even when we were both convinced we didn't belong anywhere."
"You do belong here!" someone shouts.
"This is your home now!" another voice adds.
Kate blinks rapidly. I wrap my arm around her waist, anchoring her.
"We have some things we need to take care of back in Seattle," I say. "Business we can't avoid anymore. But we'll be back. This isn't goodbye."
"It better not be," Doc Martinez says. "I've got a standing appointment with you two at the coffee shop every Sunday. Don't make me drink alone with Everly."
Mrs. Everly swats his arm. "You love my company and you know it."
The laughter helps. It makes this feel less like an ending and more like a pause. A breath before the next chapter.
"Before we go," Kate says suddenly, "I just want you to know that Maple Glen gave me something I didn't know I needed. A place where it's okay to be messy and chaotic and slightly disaster-prone."
"Only slightly?" I murmur.
She elbows me, grinning through her tears. "A place where people see past the mistakes to the person trying their best. Where community isn't just a word — it's real."
"Where you can blow up an espresso machine and still be invited to potlucks," someone calls out, and everyone laughs.
Kate laughs too, wiping at her eyes. "Exactly that."
From somewhere in the crowd, Josie from the coffee shop holds up her phone. "I'm starting a group chat. You two are in it whether you like it or not."
"We definitely like it," Kate says.
"Wait until Everly starts the daily check-ins," Doc Martinez warns.
Mrs. Everly doesn't deny it.
"Thank you," I say simply. "For everything."
The applause starts slowly, then builds. Mrs. Everly is full-on sobbing now, and at least three other people have pulled out tissues. Even Old Man Henderson is suspiciously clearing his throat.
People surge forward, wrapping us in hugs and well-wishes and promises to keep the cabin ready for our return. Mrs. Everly squeezes Kate so tightly I worry about broken ribs, whispering something in her ear that makes Kate laugh and cry at the same time.
Mrs. Patel shakes my hand firmly. "Take care of her. And yourself."
"I will."
"And come back," she adds. "This town needs more level-headed people like you. We wish you the best."
It takes another thirty minutes to extract ourselves from the crowd. By the time we make it to the truck, Kate's mascara is ruined and my shirt has lipstick marks from approximately seven different hugs.
I load our bags while Kate says one more round of goodbyes. When she finally climbs into the passenger seat, she looks emotionally wrung out but somehow lighter.
I start the engine and pull slowly away from town hall.
Kate stays quiet as we drive through Maple Glen. We pass the bakeshop where gossip first branded us a couple. The lake where we both slowed down long enough to wonder what this thing between us actually was.
When we pass the turnoff to the cabin, she turns in her seat, looking back through the rear window.
I glance in the rearview mirror and see it too — the little log cabin sitting among the trees. Looking less lopsided than it did when we arrived. Or maybe we just see it differently now.
Kate keeps watching it, her hand pressed against the glass.
"You okay?" I ask.
She nods but doesn't turn around. "I had good memories there. Really good ones."
I reach over and take her free hand. "We both did."
She's quiet for a moment. Then: "Remember the first night? You walked in and caught me half-naked in the bathroom. I thought you were going to kick me out on the spot."
"I thought about it."
She laughs. "Liar."
"Complete liar," I agree.
She looks out the window, smile softening. "And the storm. I was terrified of the dark and I begged you not to leave me alone, and you didn't. You stayed up all night just talking to me."
"You told me about the first foster family. The one with the blue front door."
She glances at me, surprised I remembered. "You were actually listening."
"I always listened."
She looks at me, eyes shining. "Every late-night conversation. Every argument that turned into laughter. Every moment we chose each other."
I lift her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "All of it. Every messy, chaotic, perfect moment."
We drive in comfortable silence, the town fading behind us. The mountains rise ahead, and beyond them, Seattle waits.
Reality waits.
All the complications we've been avoiding.
But I'm not afraid.
Kate shifts in her seat, her gaze drifting to the mirror where the cabin is now just a speck.
When she speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper.
"This is home now, isn't it?"
I glance at her. At this woman who crashed into my life with her pink suitcase and her relentless optimism and her ability to find light in the darkest corners. Who made me believe in second chances. Who made me want to be better.
Who made me want to be happy.
I tighten my grip on her hand.
"It always was."
She turns to look at me, and the smile that spreads across her face is worth every risk, every complication, every uncertain moment ahead.
Because home isn't a place.
It's this. It's her. It's us.
Whatever comes in Seattle, we'll face it together. And we'll have somewhere to come back to.
Kate settles into her seat, our hands still linked between us.
"Seattle better watch out."
"Why's that?"
"Because we're not the same people who left." She grins at me, that familiar mischief sparking in her hazel eyes. "We're a team now. A chaotic, functional, slightly unstable team."
"Only slightly?"
"I'm being generous."
I laugh, and it feels good. It feels right.
The road stretches out before us, leading back to everything we left behind. But I'm not worried about what we're driving toward.
Because I know what we're bringing with us.
Hope. Love. A home to return to.
Kate turns on the radio. Some upbeat country song fills the truck.
She doesn't know the words. Doesn't stop her. She hums along anyway, fingers tapping against my hand, completely unbothered by being wrong.
I don't know when I started loving that about her. I think it might have been from the beginning.
"Hey," I say.
She looks over. "Yeah?"
"I love you."
Her entire face lights up. "I know."
"I'm serious."
"I know that too." She reaches across and squeezes my hand, firm and certain. "I love you too. Even when you're grumpy and brooding and pretending you don't have feelings."
"I don't brood."
"You absolutely brood. You're brooding right now while telling me you don't brood."
I shake my head, but I'm smiling. "Impossible woman."
"Your impossible woman," she corrects.
"Yeah." I squeeze her hand. "Mine."
The road stretches toward Seattle and everything waiting for us there.
I'm not running from my past anymore.
I'm running toward my future.
With Kate beside me — humming off-key to a country song she doesn't know the words to.
Right where she belongs.