Chapter 20
Lucas
I've been staring at the inventory list for twenty minutes, but the numbers keep blurring together every time I think about the look on Maya's face when I found that flight confirmation a five nights ago.
Not guilt. I'd expected guilt. Instead, there was something that looked like hope mixed with fear, and that combination is eating me alive.
She wants this job. Really wants it. And why shouldn't she? It's everything she's worked for. Prestigious company, meaningful work, financial security. Everything she could never find in a small town where the biggest tech challenge is helping Mrs. Peterson reset her router.
The rational part of my brain knows I should be supportive. Hell, I should be celebrating with her, helping her prepare for the interview, talking through logistics. That's what a good boyfriend would do.
But I'm not feeling particularly rational right now.
"Boss?" Jake's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. "You okay? You've been counting the same case of beer for ten minutes."
I set down my clipboard and run a hand through my hair for the hundredth time. "Fine. Just tired."
"Right." Jake leans against the bar, studying me with uncomfortable attention. "This wouldn't have anything to do with Maya leaving for that interview tomorrow, would it?"
I sigh. Why is everyone so up in my business.
"She's exploring her options," I say carefully. "It's smart career planning."
"Uh-huh. And how do you feel about her exploring those options?"
The honest answer is that I feel like someone's ripping my chest open with their bare hands. That I'm terrified she'll go to Portland and remember how much she loved city life, how much bigger her world could be than this small-town bar and the grumpy man who runs it.
"I want her to be happy," I say instead, which is true even if it's not the whole truth.
"That's very noble of you." Jake's tone suggests he's not buying my martyrdom act. "Question is, what makes you think she can't be happy here? With you?"
Because women like Maya don't stay with men like me. Because she's brilliant and ambitious and deserves every opportunity the world has to offer. Because my father always said that if you love something, you have to be willing to let it go.
I learned that lesson at sixteen when Dad got his cancer diagnosis and made me promise not to sacrifice my own dreams to take care of him. "You're meant for bigger things than this bar," he'd said, even as we both knew I'd never leave him to face it alone.
In the end, staying was my choice. Dad died knowing I'd chosen love over ambition, and I've never regretted it. But I can't ask Maya to make that same choice.
"Maybe she can be happy here," I tell Jake. "But she deserves the chance to find out what else is possible."
"Even if that means losing her?"
The question hurts, but I force my voice to stay steady. "Even then."
Jake shakes his head. "You're an idiot, you know that?"
"Probably."
"She loves you, Lucas. Anyone with eyes can see that."
"I know." And I do know. That's what makes this so much harder. "But love isn't always enough. Sometimes you have to love someone enough to let them choose something else."
"Or sometimes you love someone enough to fight for them."
Before I can respond, the bar door chimes and Maya walks in. I haven't seen her in what feels like forever, and she steals my breath away at the sight of her.
She's wearing the blue dress I love. The one that brings out her eyes, with her hair down in loose waves around her shoulders. She looks beautiful and nervous, like she's trying too hard to seem normal.
"Hey," she says, hovering near the entrance like she's not sure of her welcome. "I brought lunch."
She holds up a bag from the diner, and the gesture is so sweet that it makes my heart hurt. She's trying to take care of me even while preparing to potentially leave me.
"Thanks." I move around the bar to take the bag, careful not to let our fingers touch. "You didn't have to do that."
"I wanted to." Her eyes search my face, looking for something I'm not sure I can give her. "Lucas, about tomorrow—"
"You should go." The words come out harsher than necessary. "It's a good opportunity. You'd be crazy not to explore it."
She flinches slightly at my tone. "That's it? That's all you have to say?"
What I want to say is: don't go. Stay here with me. Choose this life, choose us, choose the small but real happiness we're building together.
Instead, I shrug. "It's your decision. Your career, your life."
The hurt that flashes across her face nearly breaks my resolve, but I force myself to turn away and busy myself with unpacking the food she brought.
If I'm going to lose her, I'd rather it be because she chose something better than because I held her back.
"Lucas." Her voice is quiet, steady, but I hear the crack underneath. "Can we please talk about this? Really talk?"
"Nothing to talk about." I focus on arranging the lunch containers, avoiding her eyes. "You have an interview. It's a good opportunity. End of story."
"That's bullshit and you know it." The sharp edge in her voice makes me look up, and I see tears threatening in her eyes. "A week ago you were telling me you loved me, that I belonged here. Now you're acting like my leaving is inevitable."
"Maybe it is."
The words slice like a blade, and I watch them hit her with physical force. Her face goes pale, then flushes with hurt and anger.
"Wow." She takes a step back. "Okay. So that's how this goes. The minute things get complicated, you just... give up?"
"I'm not giving up. I'm being realistic."
"You're being a coward." Her voice shakes with emotion. "You're deciding this is over before we even try to figure it out together."
She's right, and we both know it. But admitting that means opening myself up to the possibility of fighting for something I might lose anyway, and I'm not sure I'm strong enough for that kind of hope.
"Maya—"
"No, forget it." She's already grabbing her purse, movements sharp. "I get it. You think I'm just like everyone else who left this town. You think I'm going to abandon you the first chance I get."
"That's not—"
"Isn't it?" She stops at the door, looking back at me. Eyes bright with tears. "You know what, Lucas? Maybe you're right. Maybe I should leave. At least then I won't have to watch you push me away anymore."
The door slams behind her with enough force to rattle the windows, and I'm left standing alone in the sudden silence of my empty bar, surrounded by the lunch she brought me and the wreckage of what we almost had.
Jake emerges from the back room, where he's obviously been eavesdropping.
"Well," he says conversationally, "that went well."
"Shut up, Jake."
"No, seriously. That was some Grade A self-sabotage right there.
Really impressive." He starts wiping down tables with unnecessary force.
"Question though. What exactly are you trying to accomplish?
Because if your goal was to guarantee she takes that job and never comes back, mission accomplished. "
I know he's right. I know I just destroyed any chance of us working through this together. But the alternative is watching her slowly realize she's settling for less than she deserves. That feels worse than this clean break.
"She'll be better off," I mutter.
"Will she? Because she looked pretty devastated to me.
" Jake throws the towel over his shoulder and fixes me with a look that could strip paint.
"Lucas, I've known you for five years. You're a good man, a loyal friend, and the best boss I've ever had.
But you're also the most stubborn, self-defeating son of a bitch I've ever met. "
"Your point?"
"My point is that woman loves you. Really loves you.
And instead of fighting for that, you're throwing it away because you're scared.
" He heads toward the kitchen, then stops.
"Your dad died of cancer, Lucas. He didn't leave you by choice.
Maya's different. She's choosing to build a life here, with you, and you're too scared to believe it. "
I want to argue, to tell him he doesn't understand the situation. But his words hit too close to the truth.
Outside, I can see Maya walking quickly down Main Street, powered by hurt and anger. Part of me wants to run after her, to take back everything I just said and fight for us the way she deserves.
Instead, I turn back to the inventory list and pretend my hands aren't shaking.
***
Two hours later, Harper and June storm through my front door like avenging angels, and I know I'm in for the lecture of my life.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Harper doesn't bother with pleasantries, marching straight to the bar where I'm nursing a whiskey and feeling sorry for myself.
"Nice to see you too, Harper."
"Don't." She slams her hand on the bar hard enough to make my glass jump. Good thing it's been a slow day. "Maya is at my house crying her eyes out because the man she loves just basically told her to leave town. So I'll ask again. What the hell is wrong with you?"
June slides onto the stool beside Harper, her usual sunny demeanor replaced by disappointment that cuts deeper than Harper's anger. "Lucas, honey, what are you doing?"
"I'm letting her make her own choices without pressure from me."
"You're being an idiot," Harper snaps. "Maya doesn't want to be 'let' to do anything. She wants to figure this out together. With you. As a team."
"And if the job requires her to travel constantly? If she realizes she misses city life? If she wakes up one day and regrets settling for a small-town bar owner?"
"What if she doesn't?" June's voice is gentle but firm. "What if she's exactly where she wants to be, and you're the one pushing her away?"
I drain my whiskey, welcoming the burn. "You don't understand—"
"We understand perfectly." Harper leans forward, eyes blazing. "You're scared. She’s scared. We get it. But Lucas, fear is not a reason to destroy the best thing that's ever happened to either of you."
"She deserves better—"
"She deserves to make her own damn choices!" Harper's voice cracks with frustration. "And right now, she's choosing you. She's choosing this life, this town, this relationship. But you're so busy protecting yourself from potential heartbreak that you're guaranteeing actual heartbreak."
June reaches across the bar to touch my hand. "Sweetie, Maya's not being taken from you by forces beyond your control. She's a woman trying to balance love and career, and she needs your support, not your surrender."
The words land hard. I've been treating this like Dad's illness all over again—inevitable loss I can't fight, only prepare for. But Maya isn't sick. She's not slipping away from me despite everything we do to fight it.
She's just scared, same as me.
"What if I fight for her and lose anyway?"
"What if you don't fight and lose for sure?" Harper counters. "Lucas, there are no guarantees in love. But there's a hell of a lot better chance if you actually try."
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes with a text from Maya:
They want me to stay overnight in Portland after the interview. Extra meetings with department heads. This is bigger than I thought. We need to talk.
I show the message to Harper and June, and watch their faces go grim.
"Well," June says quietly, "sounds like they're rolling out the red carpet. Which means you've got until tomorrow morning to figure out whether you're going to fight for the woman you love or let her go to that interview thinking you don't care."
I stare at the message, knowing that everything—our future, our happiness, our chance at building something real together—hangs on my next move.
"So," Harper says, standing up and fixing me with a look that could melt steel, "what's it going to be, Lucas? Are you going to keep wallowing in fear, or are you going to go get your girl?"