9. New Routines, New Roads #2
“Wait, how did you know I accepted? I didn’t tell you yet.”
“Well, first off, you had an interview yesterday, then today you asked for help with a place to rent and the new set of wheels. It was a lucky guess, but I put two and two together.” He winked at me as we pulled off and parked.
The salt mine was more or less a mountain with one side gone from erosion and mining, but it was the old mining shed that made the place look haunted and old.
“I was hoping to surprise you.” I made a mock pout face, then smiled and turned to face him in my seat. “I start Monday as their new ninth- and tenth-grade biology teacher.”
“That wasn’t part of the plan? How are you holding up with that?” Levi took my hand across the middle console. His fingers brushed my knuckles, sending chills up my spine.
“Good, I think.” I didn’t want to tell him I was scared to death of everything, the job, not following mom’s dream, even this, him and me. Scared, yes, but I was also excited.
It wasn’t what I’d planned, and it didn’t look like I thought it would.
It looked better.
After returning from our victory lap around town in Frankie, I parked near the square to grab coffee. I was still riding the high of new car day, which, let’s be honest, was really just adulting in a new form.
As we passed the bakery, the owner waved from the doorway with a spatula in hand and that knowing smile that made me feel like she could read my soul—or at least my breakfast order.
“You settling in?” she called.
“Bought a truck,” I said, raising the keys like a trophy.
“About time,” she replied. “You’ll need it when the snow comes.”
“Don’t I know it,” I said, mock-shivering.
She winked and disappeared back inside, the scent of cinnamon rolls trailing behind her.
Levi nudged me with his elbow. “You ready for the next new thing?”
“Which is?”
He slowed his pace, gaze flicking toward the quiet edge of town. “As I see it, you can’t keep stayin’ at Janet’s. Even the Everwood Inn’s not free.”
“I know. Janet has been great, but I think I need a place of my own.” I grimaced, knowing he was right but also knowing I had no clue where to start looking. That’s why I asked for help.
“You need a place to live now that you’re stayin’ here.” His expression said volumes, and I could tell he was excited that I was sticking around.
“And you have something in mind?”
“Bob’s little cottage.” He said proudly.
I blinked. “The one past the tree line that needed a new coat of paint?”
“That’s the one,” he said, grinning. “It’s been empty since Bob moved to Florida two years ago. You need somewhere to stay that’s not temporary. A nice coat of sunshine yellow and a little elbow grease, and you’ll be all set.”
His words settled around me like warm cotton. I glanced toward the mountains in the distance, where the tree line curved like an invitation.
“I don’t know,” I said, quieter now. “It’s one thing to buy a car. It’s another thing to consider a house. That feels... serious. Maybe I should just look for an apartment.”
“It’s just a look,” Levi said. “No pressure. No commitment. You walk through it, hate it, and we pretend it never happened, then go eat pie.”
“Pie as an emotional buffer?”
“Works every time.”
I shook my head, smiling despite the nerves tugging at my chest. “Okay. I’ll look. No promises.”
Levi gave me a steady, quiet nod. He knew I’d already made up my mind, or I thought I did.
And maybe, deep down, I had.
Because something about the peeling paint seemed charming and homey.
The road to Bob’s cottage curved gently out of town, narrowing as pine trees thickened around us like sentinels standing guard. Levi rolled down his window, and the breeze swept in, carrying pine, damp moss, and that sharp, clean scent you only get when you’re nowhere near traffic.
He pointed just ahead. “There she is.”
I leaned forward as the cottage came into view—a squat little structure tucked between two hulking pines, its roof dappled with patches of sun and shadow.
The porch welcomed me, and ivy had started to creep up one corner, making a slow but determined takeover bid. It was quiet, wrapped in stillness.
Levi pulled up to the front and killed the engine. “You ready?”
“Not remotely,” I said, but I climbed out anyway.
The porch creaked underfoot as we climbed the steps. Levi tested the railing with a hand. “A little wobbly. But I can fix it.”
I ran my fingers along the weathered wood, surprised by how solid it felt beneath the surface wear. “It’s got personality,” I said.
“Is that your polite way of saying ‘fixer-upper’?”
“No, she’s got a solid foundation and a delightful story to tell.”
He crouched to retrieve a key from beneath a flowerpot that had long given up on flowers, then unlocked the door. It groaned open, and we stepped inside.
Dust danced in slants of late-afternoon light. The living room was small, with a stone fireplace at one end and worn floorboards that creaked with every step. But there was charm here—under the quiet and the cobwebs, a heartbeat.
Levi moved ahead, flipping light switches that didn’t respond. “Electric’s off, but easily turned back on. Just off for the summer. But everything’s intact. Plumbing works, water heater’s good. I checked it last month when Bob asked me to winterize.”
I wandered into the kitchen, where an old farmhouse sink sat beneath a wide window. The counters were scratched but sturdy, and a lone ceramic mug sat upside down near the edge, like someone had left it behind in a hurry.
“I could see myself here,” I sighed with contentment. My fingers trailed over the window ledge. “I mean... not immediately. It needs a little work. A lot of cleaning. But there’s space, light, and a tale I can’t wait to hear.”
I closed my eyes for a second, letting the late-afternoon sun warm my face through the glass. And just like that, I was eight years old again, standing on a rickety step stool in my parents’ kitchen while Mom attempted to flip pizza dough in the air “like the real pros do.”
It had gone about as well as you’d expect.
Eight lopsided lumps of dough ended up everywhere—on the floor, stuck to the cabinets, one perfectly folded over the toaster.
The last one sailed up and didn’t come down.
We stared at the ceiling in silence until Dad emerged from the garage with a ladder and a paint scraper, muttering something about “just ordering delivery next time.”
Mom laughed so hard she cried.
And I laughed too, because in that moment, surrounded by chaos and flour and the smell of shredded mozzarella, the world had felt full.
I opened my eyes, blinking back the memory. The kitchen in this cottage wasn’t fancy. It didn’t have granite countertops or shiny appliances. But it had space for moments like that. It didn’t care about perfection, just togetherness.
“I think I could make something here,” I said softly, more to myself than to Levi.
Levi leaned in the doorway, arms crossed. “It’s not the suburbs. But it’s got soul.”
I nodded, still looking around. “And dust. So much dust.”
“We’ll add that to your to-do list. Right under ‘Name the spiders.’”
I glanced back at him, a reluctant smile tugging at my mouth. “You’d help me fix a few things?”
His brow arched in answer. “Course I would. What kind of fishing-partner-turned-friend would I be if I let you battle this place solo?”
I turned in a slow circle. The cottage whispered, Start here.
By the time we stepped back onto the porch, the sun was slipping lower, painting the trees in soft amber light. The breeze rustled the pine needles above us, calling me home.
I leaned against the porch railing—carefully, since it wasn’t fully trustworthy—and stared out at the gravel road winding back toward town. “It’s not what I pictured,” I said softly.
Levi stood beside me, his hands resting on his hips. “You mean the cottage?”
I shook my head. “Any of it. This. Everwood. Staying.”
He didn’t say anything.
“I had this plan,” I said, shaking my head at the absurdity of it. “Miller’s Pass, the job, the apartment with the exposed brick I couldn’t really afford... it all made sense. It was efficient. Smart.”
“And now?”
I exhaled. “Now I’m not sure what I was chasing.”
Levi’s voice was low. “Plans are easy to make, but harder to change when you start to want things that aren’t part of the blueprint.”
I glanced at him. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” he replied with a small smile, “I haven’t told you the best part of your little cottage.”
The light caught in his hair, soft and gold, and suddenly, it was hard to remember what we were talking about. “And what is the best part?”
“Just that I live close enough that we can carpool to Bingo Night at the church.”
Bingo Night. I never thought I’d be that kind of person. But in Everwood, maybe I could be.
Would be.
“Come on,” Levi said eventually, pushing off the railing. “Let’s get you back before Janet starts calling in a search party.”
I followed him to the car, pausing one last time to look back at the little house tucked between the trees. Yep, I was hooked.