Chapter 36
THIRTY-SIX
JOE
Wednesday
Joe stood at the water’s edge an hour later, one hand on his hip, the other holding his phone to his ear, watching the dump truck back toward the beach. The attached sand slinger whirred, throwing pale new sand in a wide arc across the shoreline.
“Yeah, just a little farther,” he called, cupping a hand around his mouth. “Stop there—perfect.”
He took a few steps back to avoid getting pelted, but not far enough to lose sight of the driver’s aim. He didn’t want the guy overshooting into the fishing area; Krista would never let him live it down.
“Those Maple Falls shots, man,” Marcus said on the line, his voice buzzing with barely contained excitement.
“This town is ridiculous. The Summer Swap helping her grandparents? The magazine is eating that up. They want the feel-good, human-interest angle, something warm that doesn’t make people want to chuck their phone into the ocean. ”
Joe watched the sand cascade onto the beach in steady sheets, already picturing kids building castles there, Krista yelling at teenagers not to cannonball off the dock.
“I’m glad it’s landing,” he said.
“Landing? It’s killing,” Marcus replied. “I’ve been telling the board you had this in you for years. This proves it. You’ve got the voice, the eye, the whole package. Which is why”––he drew it out––“it’s not just Malta on the cards now, Joe. You’ve been chosen for the European Traveler assignment.”
The sand slinger cut off with a mechanical wheeze, the sudden quiet making the words land heavier.
“Three months,” Marcus continued. “Major spread. Small towns. Markets. Faces. Exactly the kind of stuff you did in Maple Falls, just with older rooftops and better cheese.” He drew in a breath, sounding almost proud.
“They want you following the same thread—how people build lives in these cozy little pockets of the world. It’s yours if you want it. ”
Three months.
Joe stared at the half-finished beach, the new sand bright and clean against the darker, packed shoreline.
“That’s…” His mouth went dry. “That’s huge.”
“Yeah, it is,” Marcus said, and for a second he wasn’t joking.
He’d watched Joe grind for years and was clearly genuinely happy to hand him something shiny.
Then his tone tilted back into familiar mischief.
“So. You in? Or are you going to tell me you’re suddenly tired of traveling because of a certain woman? ”
Joe’s grip tightened on the phone. “It’s not?—”
“It’s exactly that,” Marcus cut in, delighted. “I can hear it in your voice. You’re pretending you’re fine but you’re actually”––he made an exaggerated sound––“emotionally involved.”
Joe let out a rough laugh, but it didn’t shake the weight in his chest.
The part of him that had lived out of a suitcase for most of his adult life, that had chased light across states and slept in countless questionable hotels, knew exactly what he was supposed to say.
And he did. “Yes.” He heard the words. “I’d love to.”
“Attaboy,” Marcus said “Okay. I’ll tell them. I’ll get the details, the dates, the whole circus.” Then, quieter, he added, “And hey—don’t stress. It’s a good problem.”
Joe swallowed. “Yeah.”
They wrapped up the call and when it ended, he lowered the phone and slipped it into his back pocket, suddenly aware of how loud the birds were in the trees above, how steady the waves lapped against the dock.
Three months in Europe. A full series. A major publication.
It was everything he’d been working toward. There was so much more of Europe he’d always wanted to see. Rome with its plazas and fountains, history around every corner.
It would be spectacular.
It was everything he had always wanted.
He turned slowly, taking in the campground: the line of trees that sheltered the sites, the brown bathhouse building with its peeling trim, the cabins tucked back in the woods. The newly bright beach. The dock where Frankie liked to patrol like he owned the place.
He thought of Walt’s tired eyes and stubborn pride. Alice in her recliner, blanket over her lap. Krista, barefoot, hands on her hips as she lectured a teenager about life jackets and sunscreen.
For most of his life, a “next assignment” had meant freedom. It was adventure, movement, and all the things he loved.
Now, for the first time, he wasn’t so sure.
He loved what he did. Photography was his passion. But it wasn’t everything. Not anymore.
He scrubbed a hand over his face.
Okay , he told himself. You don’t have to make this harder than it is. He could go. Three months, a handful of countries, the kind of work travel journalists dreamed about. Then he could come back. Back to Maple Falls. Back to her.
The thought settled in his chest with fragile hope. Possible. Had to be.
He just had to figure out how to tell her. Hell, maybe she’d even come…
Krista showed up a little later, the familiar crunch of her truck on the gravel loosening his shoulders before he even saw her. She hopped out in shorts and a camp tee, a clipboard tucked under one arm, curls fighting the messy knot on top of her head.
Her gaze went straight to the beach, and her whole face lit up, taking in all the fresh new sand. The tired, stomped-down strip had been replaced by thick, feather-light sand, sloping smoothly to the water. Perfect for castles, barefoot races, towels spread wide.
“Oh my gosh,” she said, heading toward him. “It looks amazing. I should’ve gotten to it sooner.”
“You had more important things on your list,” Joe said.
She stepped onto the fresh sand, toes digging in. “Still. Spring Krista failed us. Summer Krista is deeply grateful to you.”
He wanted to kiss her right then, just because he could. Because last night she’d let him see her in ways no one else had, and this morning she’d curled against him like she’d been doing it for years.
Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Gramps around?” she asked, glancing toward the office.
“He went up to the cabin to check on Alice,” Joe said. “Said he’d be back down later. I told him I’d stick around in case any new campers checked in.”
She studied him. “You okay?” she asked. “You look…weird. You’ve got that ‘in your head’ face. ”
He hesitated, then decided he didn’t want to sit on it. Not with her.
“My editor called,” he said.
Her expression shifted. “Yeah? Good news?”
“Yeah,” he said. “They loved the Maple Falls stuff. The swap, your grandparents, the whole thing. They want to run a bigger feature.”
“That’s amazing, Joe.” Her smile was instant, proud. “You deserve that.”
“And,” he added, heart kicking a little faster, “they offered me something else, too.”
She stilled. “Something else like…?”
“Three-month assignment,” he said. “Still Europe. Small towns, markets, all that. Same kind of storytelling, just…across for a bit longer.”
He watched it land. The happiness stayed, but it thinned, like someone had opened a window and let in a draft.
She repeated it quietly. “Three months.”
“Yeah.” He tried to keep his tone even. “It’s kind of a dream gig. I told him yes. At least…I told him I wanted it.”
“That’s huge,” she said. “I’m really happy for you.”
He swallowed. “I wanted to tell you straight away. And I…” He exhaled, looking out at the water. “I want you to come with me.”
He looked back, as her brows drew together.
“Think of the all the long lunches we could have…” His voice lifted at the end in an enticing manner.
She stared at him, the breeze lifting a loose curl against her cheek.
“Joe,” she said slowly.
“I know it’s a lot,” he rushed on. “You grandparents need you. The Hideaway’s in limbo.
Your sister just got here. I’m not pretending any of that doesn’t matter.
But I wanted you to at least have the choice.
Because when I think about markets and old streets and sunsets over rooftops now…
you’re in the frame. I want you there. And maybe this place can hold up for a while without you. ”
Her throat worked as she swallowed. She looked out over the lake, then back at the campground, at the bathhouses, the cabins, the office. All the invisible strings tethering her here.
“I want to say yes,” she admitted, voice barely above the breeze. “You know that, right?”
“I hope so,” he said.
She laughed once, a sound that cracked. “I’ve wanted to explore Europe since I was nineteen. And now here you are, dropping my dream in my lap. But my grandma just fell. The Hideaway still isn’t sold. My little sister’s here. I can’t just vanish for three months.”
He nodded. He’d known all of that before he’d asked. Hearing it out loud still stung.
“I get it,” he said quietly. “But I want you to know how much I want you there. I know we’ve only been in each other’s lives for a week, but it’s been the most important week of my life.
This trip is important to me, but so are you.
Whatever happens, you’re in the equation for me now.
Whether that means you come, or I go and come back later, or we find some way to meet up during that time.
I don’t have the logistics figured out yet.
I just know I don’t want this”––he gestured between them––“to end.”
“I want this too. I want us. But can I be honest?” she asked.
“Of course,” he replied.
Silence stretched between them, while Krista put her thoughts together. The lake lapped against the dock and in the distance, he could hear the squeal of a kid’s bike brakes up in the campground.
“I’m terrified,” Krista said, looking out toward the water. “Because two weeks ago, I didn’t do this. I didn’t catch feelings.”
She drew in a breath and faced him. “But then the swap happened. And living your life, seeing the world through you, changed me. Before, you could’ve told me about Europe and I would’ve wished you well, poured you a Hot Honey Margarita.
Let you go.” She flicked her wrist as if to say goodbye. “But now you’re…you.”
He smiled, helpless. “Terrible problem to have.”
She ignored that, eyes shining. “You’re helping my grandparents. You’re in my bed. In my kitchen, making breakfast with Kit. You’re the reason I actually sit still long enough to breathe some mornings. I don’t want to let you go.”
He stepped closer. “You don’t have to,” he said.
Her eyes lifted, wide and shining. “But you’re leaving.”
“I travel,” he corrected softly. “I leave. And I come back. And if you let me…” His breath caught. “I’ll figure out how to keep coming back to you.”
She sighed. “I’d like that. I’m just sorry I can’t say yes to going with you right now.”
She stepped closer then, close enough that he could see the tiny freckle near her mouth, the one he’d kissed last night.
“For what it’s worth,” she said softly, “whether I end up on a plane with you or waving like a lunatic from this dock, I’m really, really proud of you, Joe.”
He felt a warm, heavy weight settle in his chest. For a moment, words failed him—he wanted to say everything, but all that came out was, “Thanks.”
She brushed a soft kiss over his mouth.
Then she stepped back, the practical part of her sliding into place again.
“Okay,” she said briskly. “Show me the rest of this sand. If I’m going to be abandoned for glamorous European beaches, the least you can do is give me a five-star Maple Falls one first.”
He took her hand as they started down the shoreline.
Neither of them mentioned how tightly she held on.