Chapter 11 #2
"That's what Tyler did to you. Made you think you weren't enough. That if you didn't bend to what he wanted, you'd lose him." She leans forward. "But that boy isn't Tyler. And you're not the same woman you were then."
"How do you know?"
"Because that woman wouldn't have told Dean no. She would have said yes just to keep him, then spent the rest of her life resenting him for it." Maggie's smile is sad and knowing. "You're stronger now. Strong enough to know what you want. Question is, do you want him?"
"Yes." The word comes out broken. "I want him so badly it scares me."
"Good." Maggie stands, brushing crumbs from her apron. "Now you just have to decide if being scared is enough reason to walk away from something real."
She leaves the pie. Leaves me sitting at my desk with half a slice and a question I don't know how to answer.
That night, Biscuit and I sit on the front porch like we've done every night this week. He's pressed against my leg, warm and solid. The mountains are dark shapes against the darker sky, and somewhere out there, Dean has already made his choice.
Yesterday morning. His extended deadline was yesterday morning. Maggie heard it from Javi who heard it from Top---the Pine Valley gossip network in action.
My stomach twists.
"What do you think, buddy?" I scratch behind Biscuit's ears. "Am I being smart or stupid?"
He licks my hand. Unhelpful as always.
Tyler. Denver. The weeks after he left when I felt like I'd failed some fundamental test of commitment. When I convinced myself that if I'd just been willing to sacrifice everything, it would have worked.
But it wouldn't have. Because Tyler didn't want a partner. He wanted someone who'd follow.
Dean wants---
I stare at the mountains. What does he want?
Come with me. To Iron Creek.
We'd be together.
I love you.
I pull out my phone. No messages. No calls. Three days of absolute silence, which is somehow worse than anything he could have said.
Yesterday morning, he signed those papers or he didn't. Either way, he'll leave Pine Valley.
Either way, I lose him.
Unless.
His contact info is right there. One call. One text. One word and this could be different.
But I don't know what word that is.
I don't know if I'm ready to say yes. Don't know if I can trust that Texas wouldn't be Tyler all over again---me giving up everything, him realizing I'm not worth what I cost.
But I know I'm not ready for this to be over.
I close the phone. Put it face-down on the porch step.
Biscuit whines.
"I know," I tell him.
He settles against my leg with a sigh.
The porch is cold. The night is quiet. Somewhere in town, Maggie's probably closing up the diner. Sophie's probably locking up the bookstore. Linda's probably at home telling her husband all about how Dr. O'Connor is a disaster.
And Dean has already made his choice.
His deadline was Thursday morning-yesterday.
I stay on the porch until the cold drives me inside. Until Biscuit gives up and goes to bed. Until there's nothing left to do but lie awake and replay every conversation, every touch, every moment from the lake to the bar to the fight in my kitchen.
I love you.
Come with me.
Build something with me.
Is that what he was asking? Or was Sophie right---did he just ask it badly?
I roll over, punch my pillow, and close my eyes.
Tomorrow, I'll drive to work. See patients. Pretend everything is fine.
Dean made a decision that changes everything.
And I'll be here. In Pine Valley. Safe.
Miserable.
But safe.
The next morning, I drive the long way to the clinic. The route that takes me past the turn-off to base.
The guard shack is visible from the road. Morning shift change. Trucks coming and going. Somewhere in there, yesterday morning Dean sat across from some officer, signing papers that sent him overseas or back to Texas.
My foot hovers over the brake.
I could turn. Right now. Drive through that gate and find him.
And say what? That I'm terrified? That I want him but don't know how to trust this? That Texas sounds like a dream and a nightmare and I can't tell which one is real?
The guard waves at me. Probably thinks I'm lost.
I keep driving.
Past the base. Past the turn-off. Straight to the clinic where Linda is already waiting with coffee and a look that says she knows exactly where I just came from.
"Busy day today," she says, handing me the mug. "You okay?"
"Fine."
"Liar." But she says it kindly.
A cat with a urinary infection. A dog with a torn nail. A rabbit who ate something it shouldn't have.
Normal. Routine. I can do normal.
At noon, Linda pokes her head into the exam room. "You have a visitor."
My heart stops. "Who?"
"Sophie. She's got lunch." Linda's expression is carefully neutral. "And she says she's not leaving until you eat."
Not Dean. Of course not Dean.
What was I even hoping for?
Sophie's in the waiting room with Thai takeout and a determined expression. "Eat. Talk. In that order."
We eat in my office. The food is good. The conversation is careful. Neither of us mentions Dean until the containers are empty and there's nothing left to do but address the elephant in the room.
"His deadline was yesterday morning," Sophie says quietly. "Maggie heard from Javi that Top gave him an extension to Thursday."
Yesterday morning.
"Do you know what he decided?" I ask.
"No one knows. He hasn't told anyone." Sophie's voice is gentle. "Have you heard from him?"
"No."
"Are you going to reach out?"
"I don't know." I lean back in my chair. "What would I even say?"
"How about the truth?" Sophie starts cleaning up the containers. "That you're scared. That you want him. That you need him to ask you again, properly this time, like you're an actual partner in the decision."
"What if he doesn't?"
"What if he does?" She meets my eyes. "What if he's been sitting at that base for three days trying to figure out exactly that---how to ask you properly? How to make this about both of you instead of just him?"
I grip my coffee mug tighter.
"I drove past the base this morning," I admit. "Almost turned in."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because I don't know what I want to say."
Sophie's quiet for a long moment. Then: "Maybe start with 'I'm sorry I sent you away.' And go from there."
She leaves me with that thought and an empty Thai food container.
Two more appointments, both routine. I finish early, close up the clinic, and sit in my car in the parking lot staring at my phone.
One call. One text.
Not yet.
But maybe soon.
I drive home the long way again. Past the base. Past the turn-off.
The guard shack is slower now. Evening shift. Quieter.
I keep driving.
All the way home, where Biscuit is waiting and the porch is empty and I still don't have an answer.
But I'm working on it.