“Kind of.”
I could deflect, change the subject, maintain the walls I came here to build. Instead, I find myself wanting to tell her the truth, but I don’t.
“Houston started to feel…”
“Suffocating?” she offers.
“Exactly.” I’m surprised how easily she understands.
“Fresh start.”
“That was the plan.” I pause, then add, “Until I met my distractingly attractive neighbor.”
The words are out before I can stop them. Ellie's eyebrows rise slightly, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“Distractingly attractive, huh?”
My face gets hot, but I can’t look away from her. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”
“You did.” She leans against the counter, studying me. “For what it’s worth, I find my new neighbor pretty distracting too.”
We're standing in my half-empty kitchen, surrounded by bubble wrap and cardboard, yet somehow this feels more intimate than it should.
“I didn’t come here looking for…” I trail off.
“Complications?”
“Exactly.”
She nods, and laughs. “Life has a way of not caring about our plans, but let me ask you this. Was your plan to move here and become a hermit?”
“Something like that. Focus on work and avoid distractions.”
Ellie laughs, a sound that seems to brighten the kitchen. “Well, that's one approach. Sounds lonely, though.”
I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. “Lonely is safe. Lonely doesn't hurt.”
Her expression softens, and I realize I've revealed more than I intended. She doesn't push, though, just hands me a coffee mug to unwrap.
"You know," she says after a moment, "there's a middle ground between hermit and... whatever you're running from."
“Is there?” I ask, genuinely curious about her perspective.
“Sure. You can build a life here without closing yourself off completely.” She places the last plate in the cabinet. “Lawson Ridge has a way of healing people, if you let it.”
I consider her words, turning them over like smooth stones in my mind. “And where do distractingly attractive neighbors fit into this healing process?”
She grins. “As excellent tour guides, for starters. Maybe friends, if you're open to it.”
Friends. The word should be a relief—a clear boundary, a safe distance. Instead, it feels both too much and not enough.
“I could use a friend,” I admit, surprising myself with the honesty. “But it’s getting late.”
She walks to the door and opens it. “See you around, friend.”
After she leaves, I lean against the closed door. This wasn’t the plan. None of this was the plan.
ELLIE
