Reva accepted his gesture, her throat tightening.
“You’re a legend, Fleet,” she said quietly. “Not easily replaced, my friend.”
He chuckled, his gaze sweeping over the town. “Nah. Just an old man who loved his people.”
“You kept us safe,” Reva insisted. “You gave this town your heart.”
“As did you, Mayor.” Fleet’s eyes softened. “Don’t you go thinking you’re not doing a big thing by moving down to Georgia, girl. It’s gotta be hard on you. Just remember, home ain’t a dot on a map. It’s where you pour your love.”
Fleet clapped her shoulder, firm and steady. He smiled, seeming to have made peace with the changes forced upon him. Reva took note, believing she needed to do the same.
She wanted to believe that letting go didn’t have to feel so much like tearing herself in two.
Later that evening, after Lucan was tucked into bed and Kellen sat reviewing paperwork in the den, Reva stood barefoot on the back porch.
The mountains loomed in the distance, dark and steady.
She drew a deep breath.
Thunder Mountain would be here long after she was gone. Its ridges and valleys, its storms and clearings, would hold pieces of her soul forever.
She hugged her sweater closer and let herself feel it—the ache, the gratitude, the hope. She wasn’t just leaving a town. She was leaving a piece of herself behind. And in exchange, she was carrying all of this love into the next chapter.
Kellen was suddenly by her side. He placed both his hands on her shoulders, whispered into her hair, “Everything’s going to be all right, babe. Rarely does life stay the same. But we’ll be doing this together.”
She nodded, turned, and buried her face against his chest.
Yes, her husband was right.
We thought change was the enemy—that if we just held still long enough, maybe life wouldn’t find us. But life always found us. It shoved us forward, ready or not.
In the days following Reva’s announcement, the weight of the news continued to press heavy on her girlfriends. It wasn’t just what she said—it was everything it meant.
Charlie Grace busied herself with ranch chores she didn’t really need to do, trying to outrun the feeling that something was slipping away.
Capri threw herself into work too, but even the river, wild and restless like her, couldn’t carry away the quiet grief pooling inside her.
Lila sat on the clinic porch at sunset, coffee cooling in her hands, staring at the hills where their futures had once seemed so certain.
They didn’t talk about it, not yet. Maybe they didn’t know how. All they knew was that something had shifted, and no matter how hard they tried to hold it together, the cracks were already showing.
Hearing Reva’s plans left her friends gutted in a way none of them wanted to admit aloud. They had weathered boyfriends, marriages, deaths, and births together—standing shoulder to shoulder through everything life threw their way.
But this? This was different. This was a goodbye written in slow, heavy strokes.
Love made you brave. But losing someone you loved—even when it was the right thing—made you fragile in ways you never expected.
25
Capri stood barefoot in the middle of her kitchen, wiping down an already spotless counter. The late afternoon sun slanted through the new windows Jake had installed, bathing the space in a golden warmth that hadn’t existed before the renovation. Everything gleamed—the new cabinets Jake had installed, the creamy stone countertops, and the fresh blue of the backsplash gave the room a brightness that whispered new beginnings.
The old kitchen had been dark and cramped, a place that felt stuck in another time. This one? This one felt open, alive—like maybe change wasn’t the enemy she’d spent years believing it was.
“You know they’re just coming for food, right?” Jake’s voice floated in from the mudroom, thick with amusement. “Not to pass a white glove inspection.”
Capri turned to find him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, watching her with a lazy grin that threatened to unravel her whole fake sense of calm.
“I’m setting the tone,” she said primly, grabbing a dish towel and giving the counter a final swipe. “This is a classy operation.”
