Chapter 37
Thirty-Seven
Colter
“There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
Swayze’s words landed in my gut like a stone as I unlocked the front door. We’d just gotten back from rehearsal, where she’d been... off. Not distracted by her phone this time, but somewhere else entirely. Present in body, absent in mind.
The kind of distance that made a man’s thoughts spiral to dark places.
“Yeah, of course.” I pushed the door open, let her go in first. Tried to keep my voice casual even as my shoulders tensed. “What’s up?”
She set her bag down, turned to face me. Her hands twisted together—a nervous gesture I’d rarely seen from her. “I got a call from Gerald Peyton today.”
I blinked. “Why does that name sound so familiar?”
“The billionaire philanthropist.”
“You got a call from a billionaire?” The words came out sharper than I intended.
She nodded and launched into an explanation about job offers and nonprofits and revitalizing small towns. Something about platforms and travel and opportunities that would take her all over the country. Maybe the world.
I watched her mouth move, heard the words, but my brain kept snagging on one detail: she was leaving.
This was it. The other shoe I’d been waiting for, the one that had been hovering overhead since she’d stepped back into the social media world weeks ago.
Since I’d watched her light up over follower counts and engagement metrics and ticket sales that had nothing to do with the actual show and everything to do with her reach.
She’d been pulling away. I’d sensed it, seen it, told myself I was imagining things.
Turned out my gut had been right all along.
“What did you say?” The question scraped out of my throat.
“I explained we had the show coming up and asked if I could wait until it was over to give them an answer.”
Of course she had. Because Swayze Parish finished what she started, saw projects through to completion. She wouldn’t bail on the library or the town or the Sasspatch Society’s production.
But after that?
“That seems sensible.” I forced the words out, kept my tone even. Supportive. “It’s a great opportunity for you, but it’s a lot to think about. It’s good they’re willing to give you time.”
Her shoulders relaxed slightly, relief flickering across her face. She’d expected... what? An argument? A demand that she turn it down?
I wasn’t that guy. Wouldn’t be that guy.
Even if the thought of her leaving carved a hole in my chest.
I stepped forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a heartbeat to breathe in the vanilla scent of her shampoo. I tried to memorize it.
“You’re tired.” I pulled back, met her eyes. “Why don’t you go on up and get ready for bed? I’ll be up in a bit. Just gonna make a snack first.”
She smiled—that soft, grateful smile that made me want to gather her close and beg her not to go. “Okay.”
Her arms came around me in a hug. I held her, feeling her warmth seep into my bones, and wondered how many more times I’d get to do this before she left for good.
Then she pulled away, headed for the stairs.
I watched her disappear up the steps and listened to her footsteps fade down the hallway. Heard the bathroom door close.
Only then did I let my shoulders sag.
I moved to the kitchen on autopilot, pulled out bread and peanut butter without really seeing them. My hands worked through the motions of making a sandwich I didn’t want while my mind churned through everything she’d said.
Travel. Teams. Resources. Communities all over the country, all over the world.
The kind of work she’d been born to do. The kind of impact she could make on a scale Gibson Hollow could never offer.
I’d always known she was too big for this place. Too bright, too talented, too much to be contained in a small town where the most exciting thing to happen in a normal year was a community theater production and a new stoplight on Main Street.
She’d said from the beginning she was figuring out her next move. I’d just been stupid enough to hope her next move might be staying here. With me. With Oakleigh.
But why would she? What did I have to offer compared to what a freaking billionaire could give her?
I stared down at the sandwich, realizing I’d smeared peanut butter across the counter instead of the bread.
“Dammit.”
I grabbed a rag, wiped up the mess. Tried to get my head straight.
This wasn’t about me. Wasn’t about what I wanted or didn’t want. This was about Swayze and her future and the opportunity of a lifetime that had just landed in her lap.
I should be happy for her. Supportive. Encouraging.
I was all those things.
I was also absolutely gutted.
Abandoning the idea of a sandwich, I snagged a beer from the fridge instead and stepped out on the back porch. I needed to talk to someone about this. The cool night air hit my face as I pulled out my phone. My thumb hovered over Lisa’s contact for a beat before I pressed call.
Three rings. Four.
“Hello?” Her voice came through groggy, thick with sleep.
Guilt punched through me. “I’m sorry. I woke you.”
“No, it’s fine.” Rustling sounds, like she was sitting up. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Stared out at the dark yard where Ludo’s toys were scattered across the grass.
How the hell did I even start?
“Is everything okay with Swayze?”
The question landed like a fist to the sternum. “No. No, it’s not.”
More rustling, then the unmistakable click of a lamp. Lisa was fully awake now. “Talk to me.”
The words came in a rush. “She got a job offer today. From Gerald Peyton—the billionaire guy who does all that philanthropy work. He wants to hire her to do exactly what she’s been doing here, but everywhere.
Travel all over the country, even the world, highlighting small towns and community projects.
It’s tailor made for her, Lisa. Everything she’s good at, everything she loves. ”
“Okay.” Lisa’s voice stayed steady, neutral. “What did she say?”
“She asked if she could wait until after the show to give them an answer. They said yes.” I dragged a hand through my hair. “And I told her that was smart. That it was good they were willing to give her time to think about what she actually wanted.”
The silence stretched between us.
“Did you tell her what you want?” Lisa asked carefully. “About the fact that you’re in love with her, and you want her to stay and build a life with you?”
“No.”
Lisa made a noise—somewhere between exasperation and sympathy. “Does she even know that you love her?”
“Yeah. We’ve said that.” The beer in my hand had gone warm. I set it on the porch railing. “But how can I ask her to stay, Lisa? This is basically her dream job. If I ask her to give all that up for me, how does that not make me a selfish asshole?”
“It doesn’t make you a selfish asshole, Colter.” Her words came firm, brooking no argument. “It gives her a very clear view of what her alternatives are. You think she can make an informed decision without knowing how you actually feel?”
I leaned against the porch post, exhaustion settling into my bones.
“I thought we were great. I thought we were on the same page, that she was happy here with me, with us. And then this thing happened with the library funding, and she reopened the door to this influencer side of her life, and I’ve been feeling her slip away ever since. ”
“Colter—”
“I can see all the incredible things she’s done and has the capability of doing.
And now here’s this freaking billionaire who’s basically tailor made a job exactly for her, to take advantage of all her gifts and her love of travel and all these things, and.
..” My throat tightened. “I don’t know what to do. ”
“You tell her the truth,” Lisa said. “You tell her you want her to stay. That you love her. That you want to build a life together. You give her the chance to choose.”
I shook my head even though she couldn’t see it. “And if she picks the job? If I lay it all out there and she leaves anyway?”
“Then at least you’ll know. At least she’ll have made the choice with all the information.”
My jaw clenched. “I can’t do that to her.”
“Can’t do what? Tell her how you feel? Colter, that’s not fair to either of you.”
“What’s not fair is asking her to choose between her dream job and a small town firefighter with a kid.” The words tasted bitter. “I can’t compete with what Peyton’s offering. I won’t even try.”
Lisa was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke again, her voice had gone soft. “This isn’t about me, is it?”
My hand tightened on the phone.
“You think because I didn’t stay with you, that means nobody will. That’s what this is really about.”
“You fell in love with Faith.” The words came out flat. “I didn’t argue. I didn’t fight. I was supportive because that’s what you do for people you love.”
“That was different, and you know it. We were never—”
“Doesn’t change the pattern.” I cut her off. “I’m not the guy people stay for, Lisa. I’m the guy people leave. The safe option until something better comes along.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Is it?” I pushed off the post, started pacing the length of the porch. “You didn’t love me. Not like that. Fine. But Swayze does, and she’s still leaving. Or she will be once the show’s over. I can see it in her eyes every time she looks at her phone. She’s already halfway out the door.”
“So you’re just going to let her go without a fight?”
“I’m going to support her.” My voice came out harder than I meant it to.
“I’m going to be there for her through the show and help her however I can.
And when she leaves, I’m going to wish her well.
Because that’s what you do when you love someone.
You want what’s best for them, even when it guts you. ”
“Even when what’s best for them might be staying with you?”
The question hung in the air between us.
I didn’t have an answer.
“Just... think about it,” Lisa said finally. “Before you decide what’s best for her, give her the chance to decide for herself. With all the facts.”
“I’ll think about it.”
But I was already preparing myself for the inevitable. Already building the walls I’d need to get through the next few weeks. Already planning how I’d smile and support her and watch her walk away without falling apart.
Because that was the job. That was what I did.
I loved people, and I let them go.
“Get some sleep,” I told Lisa. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
“Anytime. You know that.”
I ended the call and stood there in the dark, listening to the crickets and the distant sound of a car on the main road.
Inside, Swayze was probably already asleep. Tomorrow she’d wake up, and we’d go through the motions of rehearsal and dinner and all the small intimacies that had become our life together.
And I’d keep my mouth shut and my heart locked down and do what I’d always done.
Whatever it took to make sure the people I loved got what they needed.
Even if it killed me.