Page 75 of Free

My fingers tighten on the steering wheel, and the leather creaks softly under my grip. I replay the tension in Nick’s facethis morning, his too-measured tone, the way his shoulders stayed stiff even after his breathing slowed. He said he was fine, but everything about him screamed the opposite. And worse, he didn’t let me in. He kept me at arm’s length, and the ache beneath my ribs hasn’t subsided since.

Last night, I begged him not to leave me again. Today, I feel like I’m the one in danger of leaving. The realization slices through me, sharp and unyielding. My life here feels like a patchwork quilt held together by fraying threads. I don’t have a home, not really. My yoga job is temporary, and my roots are scattered—half here, half back in Wildrose Landing.

And isn’t that part of what made Nick so distant this morning? The wordtemporarypractically radiated off him when we talked about my job. His silence over breakfast said more than words ever could.

The thought gnaws at me, a quiet undercurrent of guilt and doubt. I could look for more work here, find an affordable place to rent, plant roots. It makes sense, doesn’t it? Garrett’s here. Nick’s here. And yet the idea of leaving Wildrose Landing—leaving my parents, my other brother, the house I grew up in—makes my chest constrict. Would I even be doing it for the right reasons? Would Nick think I was clinging to him, forcing something too soon?

The sky above shifts, clouds stretching thin and pale as the horizon fades into shades of slate gray. The air clings to my skin, heavy and humid, like it knows my unease. My thumbs trace circles on the steering wheel, the small, repetitive motion soothing my restless energy. The road ahead is quiet, bordered by trees swaying lazily in the breeze, but my thoughts are anything but still.

I’ve been treading water, haven’t I? Staying in place, waiting for something—or someone—to tell me which way to go. But thetruth is, no one’s coming to save me. It’s time to pick a direction and start swimming.

The crunch of gravel under my tires pulls me out of my spiral. Garrett’s house rises in front of me, its porch bathed in the golden light of a setting sun. I kill the engine and sit in silence for a moment, the echoes of my thoughts too loud to ignore. My phone buzzes in the cupholder, and I glance down to see Mom’s name on the screen.

I swipe to answer, a smile tugging at my lips despite the storm in my chest. “You really are spooky, you know that? I was just thinking about you.”

Her laugh is warm, familiar, like the scent of cookies baking on a winter afternoon. “I’m always thinking about you, sweet girl. How’s life in paradise?”

“It’s good,” I say automatically, though my voice comes out too bright, too brittle. It reminds me of the way Nick sounded this morning. “How about you and Dad? Everything okay?”

“We’re fine,” she says, her tone light but carrying that unmistakable undercurrent of motherly concern. “But I’ve been feeling a little sentimental lately. All my kids are grown and scattered to the wind. Garrett’s all the way down there, and Connor’s spending all his free time with his girlfriend. Which is as it should be,” she adds quickly, like she knows the guilt is already starting to brew. “I’m just feeling it, is all.”

I press my fingers to my temple, the familiar ache of guilt sinking in. If I stay here, won’t it break her heart? She’s already feeling the distance, already missing me.

“And that,” she continues, “is not a reason for you to feel bad.”

I huff a soft laugh, leaning back against the seat. “There you go. Spooky again.”

“It’s a mom thing,” she says, her smile evident even through the phone. “Now, why are you telling me everything’s great when it’s not?”

The question lands squarely in my chest, and for a moment, I don’t answer. “It’s just been a weird day,” I admit finally. “Feeling a little off, I guess.”

“This might cheer you up,” she says, her voice taking on a note of excitement. “I drove by one of your old yoga studios yesterday, and there’s a For Sale sign in the window.”

“Yeah?”

“Here’s the kicker though. They’re not just selling the building. They’re selling the whole business. Employees, customers, you name it. I can’t begin to explain how difficult it is to get a brand new business off the ground. You’d get to skip the hardest part! It could be the perfect opportunity for you, if and when you’re ready to come back.”

My throat tightens as the thought of returning to Wildrose Landing churns through me. “Oddly enough, I was just thinking about that. Not the studio, specifically, but just… what’s next.”

“Divine timing,” she says, her tone gentle but amused. “The Universe does love to give us a nudge now and then.”

I smile faintly, the weight of her words settling over me. Maybe this is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for. But the thought of leaving Nick behind feels unbearable, like pulling at a thread that might unravel everything we’ve started building.

“What about Nick?” she asks, her voice softening. “Still blissful?”

I give her the highlights, my words painting the picture of a perfect romance—the picnic on the pier, his promises, his touch. She sighs dreamily. “Sounds pretty blissful to me.”

“Hence my decision to start thinking about the future,” I reply, my voice growing quieter. The tangled threads of my thoughts spill out, my uncertainty about staying, the pull ofhome, the fear of uprooting something before it’s fully grown. Mom listens patiently, her silence a steady presence.

Finally, she speaks. “Things will fall into place when they’re supposed to, Charlie. Enjoy your time with him. Opportunities will present themselves, and when they do, you’ll know what feels right. Keep your eyes open. Trust yourself. Maybe the yoga studio is one, maybe it isn’t. Something will happen to let you know.”

I nod, staring out at the horizon as the sun dips lower, bathing the world in hues of gold and amber. Her words are comforting, but that wasn’t exactly the clarity and guidance I was hoping for. While I love the idea of exploring what’s happening with Nick, a whisper of doubt rises in my mind.Are we just delaying the inevitable?

We’ve been here before—together but not really, closer than ever but kept apart by the reality of our lives. His job isn’t the problem anymore, but my living arrangements still are.

I end the call and sit in the quiet, watching the first hints of twilight bleed into the sky. At some point, I’m going to have to make a choice. But for now, the weight of uncertainty presses down on me, heavy and inescapable. It’s not like I can wave a magic wand and make everything fall into place.

At some point, I’m going to have to make a choice.

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