Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Rosalie
The farmhouse felt too quiet when I walked through the front door. I dropped my keys on the console with a clatter that echoed in the silence.
I'd driven home in a fog, replaying every word of our conversation. Cal's careful neutrality. His refusal to just tell me what he wanted. The way he'd looked at me when I asked if he wanted me to stay—like I'd physically hurt him.
Do you honestly believe there's any part of me that wants to watch you drive away?
I sank into one of the kitchen chairs, still wearing my jacket. My hands were shaking again.
I'd thought telling him about Lauren's offer would help. That sharing the burden would make the decision clearer, lift some of the crushing weight from my shoulders.
Instead, I felt more lost than before.
How was I supposed to choose between the life I was building here and the career I'd dreamed about since college? Between the farm that was finally starting to feel like home and the opportunity that might never come again?
The rational part of my brain kept listing all the reasons Seattle made sense. Steady income. Professional growth. A chance to work on something I was genuinely passionate about.
But then I thought about morning chores with the goats following me around. The satisfaction of watching customers' faces light up when they tasted my produce at the market. The way Cal's eyes crinkled when he smiled, how naturally he fit into the rhythm of my life.
He belonged here as much as I was starting to.
I pressed my palms against my eyes, willing myself not to cry.
If Cal couldn't help me figure this out, I needed to talk to someone who'd been in a similar situation. Someone who'd made the choice to come back to Alder Creek after building a life somewhere else.
I grabbed my phone and scrolled to Abby's number. She answered on the second ring.
“Hey, Rosie. Everything okay?”
“Not really.” My voice came out small. “Can I ask you something? About leaving Chicago and coming back here?”
“Absolutely. Is this a 'glass of wine while sitting on the couch' kind of conversation?”
Relief flooded through me. “Yeah. It really is.”
“Give me thirty seconds to grab a bottle. Get yourself a glass, too.”
On the other end of the line, I heard her footsteps then cabinet doors opening. I stood and moved to the fridge, pulling out the half-empty bottle of white wine I'd opened last week. My hands were steadier as I poured, the familiar ritual already grounding me.
Something about having someone willing to sit with me through this—someone who'd understand—made the weight pressing on my chest feel slightly less crushing.
I settled back into the chair, cradling the glass in my hand.
“Okay,” Abby said, her voice warm through the phone. The cork popped in the background. “I'm back. Talk to me.”
I took a sip of wine and told her everything. About Lauren's offer, about the festival, about how it was exactly what I'd dreamed of before Aaron made me doubt everything about myself. About Cal's refusal to tell me what he wanted, how I felt like I was drowning in uncertainty.
“Oh, honey.” Abby sighed softly. “I get it. When I decided to officially move back, I kept waiting for someone to tell me I was crazy for leaving my firm in Chicago.”
“Were you? Crazy, I mean?”
“Probably.” She laughed. “But the good kind of crazy.”
I curled up in the chair, pulling my knees to my chest. “How did you know? That coming back was right?”
“I didn't. Not at first.” Abby paused, and I heard her take a sip. “Chicago was supposed to be this fresh start, but I eventually realized I was... hiding. The prestigious job, the city apartment, it all looked perfect on paper but I was miserable.”
“This job offer... it's not like that. It's what I want to do.” I shifted in the chair, trying to find the words.
“I mean, this isn't some soul-crushing desk job.
Lauren's offering me exactly what I studied for, what I dreamed about.
It's the kind of work that made me fall in love with design in the first place.”
“Rosie,” Abby said, her voice gentle. “If this is everything you want professionally, if it's this perfect opportunity and you know you'd be amazing at it... what's holding you back?”
I opened my mouth to answer, then closed it again. The question hung in the air, simple and devastating.
Because if it truly was everything I wanted, if it was the obvious choice, I wouldn't be sitting here in my kitchen at nine o'clock at night, calling someone for reassurance. I wouldn't have spent the entire drive home with tears threatening to spill over.
“I'm… I'm terrified I'll screw up again,” I whispered into the phone. “I thought I knew what I wanted before. I had this whole plan, this vision of my life, and then I met Aaron and just... lost myself completely. What if I do that again? What if I go back to Seattle and fall into the same trap?”
“Rosie—”
“No, listen.” I set my wine glass down, my hand trembling slightly.
“I spent three years becoming someone I didn't recognize.
Smaller, constantly second-guessing myself.
I let him convince me my dreams were impractical, that I needed to be more...
I don't know, appropriate. And I bought into all of it.”
“Okay, but why?” Abby's voice turned sharper, more direct. “Why did you let him do that to you?”
I flinched at the bluntness of the question. “It wasn't like I woke up one day and decided to become a doormat, Abby. He was older, seemed so sure of himself. And my dad loved him—kept telling me how responsible he was. It felt like I was finally doing something right.”
I stood up, pacing to the kitchen window.
“But you're not that person anymore,” Abby said firmly. “Are you?”
“No. I'm not.”
The certainty in my own voice surprised me.
“I mean, I don't think I am,” I corrected quickly. “But how do I know for sure? What if being here, running the farm, is just me hiding from real life?”
“What do you mean by real life?” Abby asked gently.
I started pacing again. “You know—career, ambition, making something of myself. What if I'm just playing house out here because it's easier than competing in the real world?”
“Rosie, you're literally building a business from scratch while learning to run a farm. That doesn't sound like hiding to me.”
I paused by the window, staring out at the dark silhouettes of the barn and chicken coop. “But what if...” I trailed off, something nagging at the edge of my thoughts.
“What if what?”
“What if I'm looking at this all wrong?” I turned away from the window, my heart starting to pound. “Abby, what if going back to Seattle isn't me chasing my dreams? What if it's me running back to something that feels safe?”
The silence on the other end of the line stretched for several heartbeats.
“Tell me more about that,” Abby said quietly.
“Oh God.” I sank back into the chair, my legs suddenly unsteady. “This job—yes, it's everything I've ever wanted professionally. But it's also... familiar, isn't it? I know how to be a graphic designer in Seattle. I know that world, even if Aaron poisoned parts of it for me.”
My hands were shaking again, but this time it wasn't from panic. It was from recognition.
“I know the rhythm of city life. I know how to navigate office politics and client meetings and creative briefs. Even if it's scary professionally, I know how to do it.”
“And staying here?”
“Staying here means figuring out who I am when I'm not trying to please anyone else. It means building something that's entirely mine, from the ground up. It means...” I swallowed hard. “It means seeing where this thing with Cal goes, which is terrifying in a completely different way.”
“But that's the good kind of fear, isn't it?” Abby's voice was warm, understanding.
I pressed my hand against my chest, feeling my heart hammering beneath my palm.
“Yeah, it is,” I whispered. “When you decided to come back here, did Evan influence your decision at all?”
Abby was quiet for a moment. “You mean did I stay because of him?”
“Yeah. I guess that's what I'm asking.”
“Honestly? A little.” Her voice was thoughtful. “But not in the way you might think. It wasn't that I stayed for him. It was more like... being with him made me realize I was already home. Does that make sense?”
I nodded, even though she couldn't see me. “I think so.”
I thought about Cal helping with the goats, the way he'd looked at my design sketches with such genuine admiration. How he'd never once suggested my dreams were too big or impractical.
When I was with him, I felt like the person I'd always wanted to be. Brave and messy and completely, impossibly myself.
The realization settled over me like morning light breaking through fog.
I'd been so focused on the job offer, on weighing pros and cons and trying to make the right choice, that I'd missed the most obvious truth.
I didn't want to leave.
Not the farm. Not the quiet mornings collecting eggs while the goats followed me around. Not the satisfaction of watching my soap business slowly take shape, or the way customers at the market remembered my name.
Not Cal, with his terrible social skills and his gentle hands and the way he looked at me like I hung the moon.
There wasn't a job in the world—no matter how perfect—that could compete with waking up in a place where I wanted to be. Where I felt like I belonged.
Where I was building something real.
“Abby,” I said, my voice cracking. “I think I know what I want to do.”
“Yeah?” There was a smile in her voice, like she'd been waiting for me to catch up.
“Yeah.” I sat up straighter in the chair, feeling lighter. “I need to call Lauren.”
“Good.” Abby's voice was warm with approval. “You sure you're okay? I can come over if you want.”
“No, I'm good. Better than good, actually.” I stood up, energy suddenly coursing through me. “Thank you, Abby. For listening. For helping me figure this out.”
“Anytime. That's what friends are for.”
After we hung up, I set the phone on the counter and just stood there for a moment, letting the silence settle around me.
The crushing weight that had been sitting on my chest for days was gone. In its place was something I hadn't felt in weeks—certainty. Not the anxious kind that came from overthinking every angle, but the deep, bone-level knowing that I was exactly where I needed to be.
I walked to the kitchen window and looked out at the barn, its weathered red siding barely visible in the darkness. My barn. My farm. My life.
This was what I'd been running toward when I left Seattle. Not away from Aaron or my old job, but toward something that was entirely mine.
I thought about Cal's face when I'd told him about Lauren's offer. The careful way he'd congratulated me, how he'd refused to influence my decision even when I'd practically begged him to. He'd trusted me to figure it out on my own.
And I had.
I picked up my phone and scrolled to Lauren's number. My finger hovered over the call button for exactly two seconds before I pressed it.
The conversation was easier than I'd expected.
Lauren was disappointed, of course, but gracious about it.
She told me she understood completely—that sometimes life takes you in directions you never anticipated.
By the time we said goodbye, she was already talking about reaching out to other candidates.
I set the phone down and walked outside, breathing in the crisp mountain air. The stars were brilliant here, undimmed by city lights. Crickets chirped in the tall grass, and I could hear the gentle murmur of the creek running along the eastern border of the property.
This was my life now. Not a consolation prize or a temporary escape, but an actual choice. I'd picked this messy, challenging, absolutely perfect existence, and it fit me like nothing ever had.
I belonged here. Finally, completely, entirely.