“You’re welcome for the chaos!” Ledgercalls out.
Then there’s cake, and candle-blowing, and an avalanche of birthday wishes. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so much in one night.
But the best part—the part I know I’ll remember—is watching Charlie. The way she lights up with every joke, every ridiculous skit, and every off-key birthday song. She’s radiant. She’s home. And I want that kind of joy for her every single day. I’ve had fun too—more than fun, honestly. Being here with her family feels surprisingly… right. And I don’t want it to be a one-time thing. I want more nights like this.
As things start to wind down for the evening, a weight settles in my chest. I can’t stop thinking about Charlie and her family. She is deeply rooted here—this town, this family, this life. And I’m not. My work pulls me from place to place. And before I know it, I’ll be in Philadelphia.
Suddenly, the night feels a little too good, a little too borrowed. What have I been thinking, letting myself believe this is something I could keep?
When it’s just the two of us out on the deck of her mom’s house, taking in the warm night air and the stars, I say, “Thank you for asking me to join you. I can honestly say I’ve never experienced anything quite like this.”
She smiles. “I’m glad you came. And I’m so impressed that you performed. Twice! That was so sweet. And so unexpected.”
“I was going for ‘Never let them guess your next move.’”
“Well played,” she says, and scoots in closer to me, wrapping her arms around my neck. I put my arms around her waist and hold her close, then whisper, “Happy birthday, Charlie,” before I kiss her. Everything about tonight has been the kind of thing that dreams are made of, and so is this. Kissing Charlie always feels so perfect, so right. Especially when she plays with the hair at the base of my neck with her fingertips.
After a long moment, I say, “As much as I’d like to stand here and kiss you all night, I’ve got a present for you.”
“A present?”
I nod and let go of her long enough to go to the picnic table and grab the gift bag I had set there earlier. Charlie takes a seat on one of the deck chairs with the bag in her lap, and I sit on the one next to her as she removes the tissue paper and then pulls out the memory box I made for her.
Her eyes fly to mine, wonder all over her face. “Did you make this?”
I nod. “All of the wood is reclaimed from different places in The Shadowridge.”
It’s all sanded smooth, but it still bears a lot of the character of its past—faint traces of old nail holes, a soft knot in the corner, a subtle curvein one of the planks that makes it look like it’s always been smiling. It’s roughly the dimensions of a paperback book, but it’s nearly three inches deep.
She lifts the lid, which opens silently. I’m proud of that. She sees the sticky note I’ve left inside that reads,Happy birthday to the only person I’d do three fire drills and a Back Pictionary rematch with. Since Abraham told me that Charlie has kept all of my sticky notes, I’m hoping that the sticky note in this will make her think to keep the rest of them in this box, too.
“It’s meant to hold memories. Keepsakes. I hope it’ll hold a few more of mine.” I clear my throat. “I chose this piece of wood for the inside because see how the grain curves upward like it has a sense of motion? I felt like it shows it’s carrying your history forward.”
Charlie’s eyes meet mine, and I see that they are watery. She licks her lips and swallows, like she’s trying to hold back emotions. Then, with a voice that comes out a little unsteady, she says, “Thank you. This is the sweetest gift I’ve ever gotten.” She holds it tightly to her, like she wants to hold onto it forever.
And every part of me wants her to do the same with me.
CHAPTER 25
QUIET YARDS, LOUD THOUGHTS
CHARLIE
It takes about an hour to drive west from Cipher Springs to Bridleford, where Owen grew up. I’ve never been to his town before. It has homes with well-cared-for yards, lots of pedestrians, and fun buildings that look like they’ve been around for generations.
Owen slows his truck as we turn onto a quiet street lined with tall trees. His family’s home sits near the end of the street, with ivy that climbs halfway up the stone chimney. A deep porch stretches across the front of the house and around one side, and has a set of Adirondack chairs on it, facing the hills. There are flowers along the walk and in the window boxes, and the whole place feels like warmth and a deep, relaxing breath.
The yard is pretty big, too, and I can see thewoodworking shop where his dad works peeking from the backyard. As we park, get out of the truck, and start walking up to the door, I picture Owen playing in this yard as a kid and try to imagine what he was like growing up. When we get to the wraparound porch, I see a swing gently moving in the breeze that some shrubs had hidden from my view initially, and I wonder how much he sat on that swing.
We go inside, past an outdated but cozy living room, to the kitchen, where Owen’s face immediately softens upon seeing his mom, and he hugs her. It’s so cute. His dad comes in from the backyard just then, and although he seems like a stoic man, there’s a quiet pride in his eyes that’s unmistakable when he looks at Owen.
Owen introduces me to his parents, Jeannie and Dean, and they welcome me to their home and say they’re glad I came. Jeannie has a bob of brown hair and expressive eyes. She’s petite and is wearing a bright blue cardigan, jeans, and comfortable-looking flats. Owen’s dad has his same jaw and hair, but his is turning silver, especially at the temples. It’s a little tousled, like he was thinking through a problem right before we came. He’s wearing jeans, boots, and a flannel shirt. They both have kind faces. Like they fit this place.
Then his sister, Tessa, bounds down the stairs, which is louder with every other step because of theboot she’s wearing on her injured side, and gives Owen an enthusiastic hug. She’s got the same dark brown hair as Owen’s, but hers is long and in soft curls. She’s adorable and looks like she’s fun.
“Charlie, this is Tessa. Tessa, I’d like to introduce you to Charlie.”
Owen looks thrilled to be introducing us, but Tessa is looking less thrilled to meet me. Her eyes quickly take me in—not in an obvious way. More in an “I’m trying to form an opinion of you, but the jury is still out on whether I like you yet” way.
