10. A Cottage and a Beginning #3
I set down my coffee, giving her my full attention. “I know it was a hard decision.”
“The hardest,” she admitted. “I still feel like I’m betraying her somehow. Like choosing Everwood over Miller's Pass meant I didn't love her enough or respect her memory.” She looked up at me, and I could see the lingering uncertainty in her eyes. “Do you think that's terrible?”
“I think,” I said carefully, “that your mom would want you to be happy. And I think sometimes the best way to honor someone's memory is to become the person they raised you to be, not necessarily to follow the exact path they imagined for you.”
“That's what my dad said when I called him this afternoon and told him I was staying here.” She smiled, but it was a little wobbly around the edges.
“He told me that Mom fell in love with Miller's Pass when she was young because it represented possibility and growth and building something meaningful. And that Everwood represents all those same things for me.”
“Smart man.”
“He is.” She tucked her feet further under her, settling deeper into the couch.
“The thing is, I know I made the right choice.
Being here, getting to know this place and these people, accepting your mom's job offer—it all feels right in a way that Miller's Pass never quite did, even when I was planning my whole future around it.”
“No second thoughts?”
“None,” she said, and the certainty in her voice made something warm unfurl in my chest. “Well, except maybe wondering if I'm crazy for making major life decisions based on truck breakdowns and small-town hospitality.”
“If you're crazy, then this whole town is crazy for being glad you made that decision.”
“Including you?”
The question hung between us, weighted with more meaning than the simple words carried.
I looked at her—hair escaping from its bun, eyes bright with coffee and candlelight, wearing an expression that was equal parts vulnerable and hopeful—and felt every careful boundary I'd been maintaining start to dissolve.
“Especially me,” I said quietly.
Her smile was radiant, transforming her whole face. “Good. Because, as I told your mother, I’m still new at this whole teaching thing. I'm pretty sure I'm going to need someone to help me figure out how to be a real teacher.”
“I think you're going to be amazing at it.”
“Even when I rant about garden hose circulatory systems?”
“Especially when ranting about garden hose circulatory systems.” I laughed, mentally envisioning the diagram and accompanying essay.
When I finally forced myself to leave, she walked me to the door, our hands brushing as she reached for the handle at the same time I did.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “For dinner, for listening, for... making me feel like I made the right choice, and let’s not forget helping me get all of this together. The house, the truck, and I’m pretty sure you had something to do with the job.”
“The job was all you. I didn’t hear about it until after the interview.
You got the job all on your own. Don’t doubt your abilities.
” I kissed her forehead. “Thank you for making dinner,” I replied with a smirk.
The feel of her in my arms spoke warmth to my heart.
If she heard the thump of my heart above the crickets outside, she didn’t say anything, but the smell of her hair, the feel of her warmth, and the sound of her little hum was perfect.
A smile crossed Cassie’s lips as she disappeared behind the door, and I knew she felt it too.
When the door closed behind me, I could have pumped my fist in the air, but I played it cool.
I smiled. I smirked. I even winked, then left feeling like I had fallen not just in like, but in love.
The walk home through the woods took longer than it should have, partly because I was in no hurry to end the evening and partly because I kept stopping to look back at her cottage, glowing warm and golden through the trees.
The air was sharp and clean, cutting through the lingering warmth of wine, good food, and Cassie's laugh. Above me, stars wheeled across a sky so clear it looked like someone had polished it, and the moon cast everything in silver light that made the familiar path feel magical.
I'd walked this route hundreds of times, but tonight it felt different.
She'd chosen this place. Chosen this life. And maybe, if I were patient, careful, and didn't push too hard, she'd choose me too.
The thought should have scared me. Instead, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Once home, I could just make out the warm glow of her lights through the trees.
She was settling in, making this place her own, building a life here that included Bingo Night and town festivals.
Sunday dinners and overcooked pasta and heart-to-heart conversations about dreams and choices and the courage to change course when your heart leads you somewhere unexpected.
And for the first time in longer than I cared to admit, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be too.