Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Rosalie
I had zero business spending a Friday evening anywhere other than the farm.
But… I wasn't that behind schedule. The bouquets were done, the lotion samples were packed, the eggs were sorted and ready to sell. Tomorrow I just needed to cut some greens in the garden first thing, load the truck, and go.
Everything was fine.
I deserve a night off, I thought as I grabbed my jacket off the hook, ignoring the little voice that whispered I was probably tempting fate.
I decided to swing by the goat pen, just in case. Force of habit. Or paranoia. At this point, the line had blurred.
Sugar spotted me first and ambled over, butting her head gently against the fence. Chip bounced twice for no reason. Snickers didn't even bother looking up from her hay, which was somehow more alarming than anything else she could have done.
“Okay, listen up ladies.” I gripped the fence post and looked at all three of them. “Tonight? We're staying put. No adventures. No chicken visits. No opening gates that are supposed to stay closed.” I pointed at Snickers. “Especially you.”
Snickers chewed thoughtfully, like she was considering my request.
I tested the latch. Solid. I tested it again, because with these three, paranoia was survival. Then I wedged the spare post against the gate the same way Cal had shown me. Apparently I was learning things.
“I'm serious. One night. That's all I'm asking.”
Sugar bleated softly, which I chose to interpret as agreement.
“Good girls.” I stepped back, brushing hay dust off my hands.
I caught my reflection in the barn window and paused.
When had I started caring what I looked like again?
The blue linen top was one of my favorites from my Seattle days—soft and flattering without trying too hard.
My vintage earrings caught the evening light, and I'd even managed mascara without poking myself in the eye.
Not bad for someone who'd spent most of the day elbow-deep in garden dirt.
My phone buzzed against my hip.
Emily
We have a booth. Abby already ordered fries. HURRY.
I grinned and shoved it back into my pocket.
Tomorrow's market could wait. The greens could be cut at dawn. Everything else was packed and ready. For once, I was going to do something just because I wanted to.
The drive into town unwound something tight in my chest.
I cranked the windows down. Warm evening air poured through, carrying wildflowers and dry grass and something faintly sweet I could never quite name but always associated with Colorado summers. The mountains had gone pink and golden, the sun melting behind them in long, lazy streaks.
I drove with one hand on the wheel and just breathed.
By the time I pulled into the lot beside the diner, the pink had faded to soft violet. Emily's truck sat near the entrance and I parked beside it.
Inside, the noise hit me first. Laughter and overlapping voices bouncing off checkered floors and red vinyl booths. I spotted Emily immediately, already halfway out of her seat and waving like I might somehow miss her.
I did not miss her.
I also did not miss Nate beside her, or Evan and Abby across from them.
“Wait, I thought this was girls' night!”
“So did I.” Emily jabbed her thumb at the men. “These two had a fishing trip.”
“River's too high.” Evan snagged a fry from Abby's plate without looking. “Outfitter canceled.”
“So naturally you crashed.” Abby swatted Evan's hand away from her fries.
“We joined,” Nate corrected.
Emily leveled a fry at him like a weapon. “Nobody invited you.”
“Funny story.” He plucked the fry from her fingers and ate it. “We came anyway.”
The look Emily shot him could have stripped paint, except her mouth kept twitching at the corners. She was losing the battle against her own smile, and I took advantage of the distraction to slide in beside Abby.
“So glad you made it.” Abby bumped my shoulder. “How's the farm?”
“Weirdly better.”
“And Cal?” She kept her voice light. Casual. The way people do when they are absolutely not being casual.
I reached for a menu. “What about him?”
Abby's smile went dangerously soft. “You know, since the boys already crashed our evening...” She waved at Evan and Nate. “Maybe you should invite Cal? He could use a night out.”
My stomach did something complicated.
“Text him.” Abby nudged my shoulder again. “Worst case, he says no.”
Which shouldn't have felt like a gut punch, but somehow did.
I pulled out my phone, staring at Cal's contact.
I wanted to see him again. Wanted to hear his dry observations about the chaos around us. Wanted to watch him nearly smile when he thought I wasn't looking. Wanted to sit across from him and pretend my chest didn't tighten every time our eyes met.
I wanted to pretend, for one more evening, that we were just friends.
And friends invited friends to diners.
Except my pulse was doing something entirely unfriendly as I typed.
Me
Hey! I'm at the diner with Emily and Abby. Evan and Nate are here, they crashed girls’ night. You should come!
I hit send before I could overthink it.
“There.” I set the phone face-down on the table. “Done.”
“Now we wait.” Emily grinned.
My phone buzzed thirty seconds later.
Cal
I'm on an emergency call. Mare having a tough time delivering her foal.
I stared at the message longer than necessary.
Cal
Maybe another time.
I knew exactly who Cal was—the guy who rushed out to save animals in the middle of the night, who came over if he thought I was in danger, who helped even when he wasn't asked.
I knew that. I liked that about him.
So why did my throat feel tight? Why did those two polite, perfectly reasonable words feel like a door closing?
I flipped the phone face-down and manufactured a smile.
“He can't make it. Emergency call.”
“That's too bad,” Abby said, watching me.
“It's fine.” I ate another fry. “He's busy. That's just Cal.”
I tried to shake the feeling off. Laughed at something Nate said. Let Emily drag me into an argument about whether chicken feed was overpriced, which it absolutely was, and held my own for a solid four minutes before losing the thread entirely.
“Rosie.”
I blinked. Emily was looking at me.
“Sorry, what?”
“Are you eating something?”
Our server, a college-aged girl with a braid down her back, stood at the end of the table with her pad ready.
“Oh.” I glanced at the menu I hadn't read. “Yes. Just a burger, please.”
The others went around. Abby got the turkey melt, Emily a spicy burger, Evan ordered the same thing as Nate without apparently discussing it. Beers all around, bottles pulled cold from the back.
Nate and Emily launched into a disagreement about kitchen cabinet hardware that had apparently been ongoing for three days, which was both incredibly specific and somehow entertaining. I ate my burger, laughed in the right places, and let the warmth of the table pull me back in.
I only reached for my phone once, certain I'd felt it buzz against the table. But nothing. Screen dark, no notifications. Just my own wishful thinking turning Abby's elbow bumping the table into something it wasn't.
When I tuned back into the conversation, I realized the topic had shifted to football.
“Honestly, this could be our year.” Evan set his beer bottle down.
Emily pointed at him. “Don't jinx it.”
“I'm not jinxing anything. I'm just saying the kids are decent. They could win the championship.”
“You jinxed it.”
“Rosie, you have to come to a game,” Abby said, pivoting to me. “Home games are basically a town holiday. There's hot chocolate, half the town shows up, Mrs. Clarke yells at the refs—”
“She's never wrong.” Emily shrugged.
“It's genuinely one of the best nights of the year,” Abby finished.
“Of course.” I smiled and meant it. “I'll be there.”
“Just bring layers,” Emily added. “It gets a lot colder here than in Seattle. Fall in Alder Creek can be brutal.”
“Yeah, you'll want a good jacket,” Nate agreed. “Once September hits, those night games get freezing.”
I nodded, still smiling, but something shifted inside my chest.
September.
I'd never actually been here in September.
Every summer, every single year from six to sixteen, I'd arrived in early June and left before Labor Day. Before the leaves turned. Before the first frost.
September always happened somewhere else. School started and I was back in Seattle watching the seasons change through city windows.
What if I'm gone before September?
The thought lodged itself somewhere behind my ribs.
Laughter erupted across the table. Nate had said something that made Emily throw a napkin at him, and Abby was covering her mouth trying not to snort, and Evan looked quietly pleased with himself for reasons unclear.
I laughed, too, a beat late, catching just enough of the tail end to follow along. Nobody noticed.
Frank, the diner's owner, appeared at the edge of our table, dish towel over one shoulder, looking like a man with an agenda.
“All right, guys.” He set both hands flat on the table. “I need opinions. Honest ones.”
Emily sat up straight. “Always.”
“I've been testing a new brownie recipe. Dark chocolate, sea salt, a little kick of espresso.” He said it the way a person announces something they already know is good. “First batch just came out. You're my guinea pigs.”
“Yes,” Abby said immediately.
“Absolutely,” Nate said.
Frank pointed at me. “You in?”
Dark chocolate, sea salt, espresso. Obviously yes.
Except I'd been half-present for the last ten minutes, laughing a beat late, reaching for my phone over nothing.
The sensible thing was probably to call it a night.
Get an early start tomorrow. I had greens to cut, a truck to load, and I'd promised myself I'd be in bed by ten like a responsible adult who had a farmers' market in the morning.
But gooey, delicious brownies.
“Go on,” Frank said. “They're warm.”
“Yes,” I smiled. “Definitely yes.”
He disappeared toward the kitchen, satisfied.