18. Ghosts of Plans Past #2
When we parted ways outside the restaurant, David shook my hand again with that same evaluating grip.
“It was good to see you again, Levi. Take care of yourself.”
“You too, sir.”
But as they walked away, I heard him say quietly to Cassie, “We should talk tomorrow. About your options.”
And I knew that conversation was going to be the one that mattered.
Tuesday evening, I was standing on my porch drinking my third cup of coffee.
Restless energy coursing through me as I waited to hear from Cassie.
I had already fed the horses, moved the hay, and done a fence run before Cassie parked at the edge of my property.
Walking slowly, trying to gather her thoughts before she reached the porch.
“Hey,” she said when she got close enough for conversation.
“Hey, yourself. How’d the talk with your dad go?”
She settled on the bench beside me, her hands touching between us. “About like you’d expect.”
“Which means?”
She was quiet for a long moment, staring out at the trees covered in snow. “He thinks I should come home with him. Back to Nevada. He’s got connections there, job opportunities. He thinks...” She stopped, sighed. “He thinks I’m hiding here.”
The words hit like a physical blow; I’d been expecting something, but not this. “Hiding from what?”
“From real life, I guess. From moving forward. He says I’ve gotten too comfortable with small and safe, and that’s not who I used to be.”
I took a careful sip of coffee, buying time to organize my thoughts. Because this was the conversation I’d been dreading, the one where I had to choose how to fight for her.
“Is he right?”
She turned to look at me, surprise flickering across her face. “What?”
“Is he right? Are you hiding here?”
“I...” She stopped, seemed to consider the question seriously. “I don’t know. Maybe. Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters.” I set down the coffee and turned to face her fully. “Cassie, if you’re here because it’s easy, because it’s safe, because you’re afraid to try something bigger—that’s one thing. But if you’re here because it’s home, because you’ve found something worth building on...”
“Wait, what are you saying?”
I took a breath, knowing that what I said next could change everything between us. “I’m saying I need to know why you’re staying. If you’re staying.”
Her face grew very still. “Are you asking me to choose?”
“I’m asking you to think about what you really want. Not what feels safe or expected.”
She stood up, wrapping her arms around herself. “So, if I take the job in Miller’s Pass, that means I don’t belong here? If I follow through with the original plan, then I'm just being stubborn?”
“That's not what I meant.”
“But it’s what you’re thinking.” Her voice got quiet, careful. “You think I’m afraid to change direction.”
I stood too, keeping my voice steady even though my chest was tight. “I think you’re still carrying around your mom’s dream like it's the only way to honor her memory.”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing’s wrong with it. But Cassie, you’ve built something here.
Something real. Something that’s entirely yours.
It’s not your mom’s and it’s not your dad’s.
” I took a careful step closer. “You don’t have to choose Miller’s Pass just because that’s what you planned when you were seventeen and grieving. ”
She looked at me for a long moment, and I could see her weighing my words against whatever was happening in her heart.
“What if staying here feels like giving up on her?” she asked quietly. “What if I disappoint her somehow?”
“What if following your own path is exactly what she’d want for you?”
She was quiet, her fingers twisting the hem of her sweater. Outside, the wind rustled through the trees, and I could hear the distant sound of someone's dog barking.
“I used to know exactly what I wanted,” she said finally. “Miller’s Pass, the job there, finishing what she started. But being here in Everwood changed something. Made me wonder if maybe I’d been so focused on living her dream that I forgot to figure out what mine looked like.”
“And what does yours look like?”
She smiled then, small but real. “I'm still figuring that out. But I think it might involve staying here a little longer. Getting to know this place, these people. Getting to know myself outside of her plans.”
“That sounds like a pretty good place to start. Cassie, I want you to stay. I always have, but I want you to want to stay.”
The words hung between us like a lead weight.
Because now it was out there, the question that had been circling around us for weeks.
Now she knew what I wanted. I wanted her to choose this place, this life.
I wanted her to choose me. Call me selfish, but I had already chosen us.
I was just waiting for her to choose us too.
She stared at me for a long moment, and I could see her processing what I’d just revealed. What we’ve built, the easy friendship that had been slowly becoming something more—all of it shifted by my admission that I had skin in this game.
“I need to think,” she said finally, her voice small and tired.
“Okay.”
“I mean, really think. Without you or my dad or anyone else telling me what the right choice is.”
“I understand.”
But as she walked away, into the growing night, I wondered if she’d choose me.
Back inside my house, I sat at the kitchen table with the remains of my coffee. I’d meant to be supportive, to give her space to figure things out. But had I done that? Could I have done more, like telling her I loved her? Or would that have been too much?
The truth was, I didn’t know. Because I was in love with her, had been for months, and I couldn’t stand the thought of her leaving.
Although it was only five o’clock, the sun had set and it was well past dark, I couldn’t just sit around here and wallow in what might be. I needed something to do.
Pulling out my phone, Jordan answered on the third ring.
“For...” he didn’t finish. Instead, he mumbled something suspicious under his breath, and I chuckled.
“Still working on that 350, huh?” I knew he was. Randy’s old GMC had been fighting the new engine tooth and nail. “Need some help?” Jordan had helped me fix the tractor a few months ago. I owed him.
“How’d ya know?” Jordan laughed.
“I’m on my way.” I preferred being pinned under an engine to being here alone.