“Not from you.” She pressedIGNORE.
“I wish we could curl up on the couch and hang out, but I need to help Jill with dinner and I have a night hike.”
“I can help with dinner, too. You’re on your own for the night hike,” she said.
Taking her hand, he traced his index finger over the back of it. The cut wasn’t too bad. It would heal nicely as long as she didn’t do anything to make it worse.
“Battle scar,” she teased.
“Outdoor pursuits can be hard on the body,” he agreed, moving his hand up to cup her cheek.
“You’re telling me. Even sitting on this step hurts a little.”
Beckett laughed, lifted her easily into his lap. “Better?”
“Much.” Her arms looped around his neck. “Can we just stay like this?”
Their foreheads met, pressed against each other, making him think he wasn’t the only one who needed as much contact as possible in these next few days.
He closed his eyes, breathed her in. Breathed out, “I wish.”
Thirty
Presley spent a lot of time trying to prove herself, only to be overlooked. When she was in the middle of living her life, eyes on the end goals, she’d been unaware. Now, in a place where the hours felt like days, she realized it was true not only personally but professionally.
She’d once stayed up all night, something she hadn’t done since college, to perfect a presentation for La Chambre—i.e., Ms. Twain—only to have her decide to “go another way.”And Emmett. That experience needed to go in the “hope you learn from this” column. She’d tried to fit him into her premade timeline, ignoring signs, letting plans override feelings. What she wanted to see overruled reality.
But as she finished up the Canva slideshow, she knew these people, the Kellers, who’d only known her a week, would welcome her ideas, appreciate her, and take her seriously. Validation. Genuine belief in her abilities. From herself and others around her. She needed that more than she’d known. And now, maybe she wouldn’t settle for less.
A parting gift.“Don’t think of it like that,” she chided herself.
She glanced around the cabin, her gaze touching on the couch where Beckett had slept at first, the table where she’d shared a lovely meal with him and his niece, the door to the backyard wonderland he’d made to see her smile.
Beckett had gone out early to take a couple of guests fishing. Mel and Richard were leaving today. Grayson was due back. He and Mr. Dayton had stayed on the mainland so they could visit the bank that morning.
She was surprised, when she left the cabin, to find Mr. Dayton coming up from the dock.
“Clearly, you’re back,” she said, smiling.
He smiled back. “Have been for an hour or so. Are you just getting up? It’s nearly lunchtime.”
Presley laughed, checked her phone. “Not quite, but no. I’ve been up for a while. How was the mainland?”
His gaze sparkled with excitement, making him seem younger. They walked the path side by side. At some point, Beckett had fixed the loose stones. She was pretty sure he had twenty-five hours in his day instead of twenty-four like the rest of them.
“It was very productive. Your mountain man is due back soon. Jill is setting out lunch options for the guests so the five of us can chat.”
Presley nearly missed a step. “Five of us?”
Mr. Dayton stared at her a moment. “Of course. You’re part of this. Have been from the beginning.”
She wasn’t entirely sure why that made tears well up.You know. Stop denying what you don’t want to face.She was part of this. Part of something special. Something important. A family of sorts, actual and found.
“Mel and Richard are leaving today. I’ll be sad to see them go,” she said as they resumed walking.
“And how will you feel when you go?”
Huh. Apparently, Mr. Dayton wasn’t into breezy conversation this morning. “I don’t want to think about it.”
