Page 52 of All of Me

“Well, just keep an eye on her. Sometimes, all you can do is be there when they’re ready to talk.”

I nod, knowing he’s right. Changing the subject, I glance at him. “What about you? Everything good on your end?”

Will’s face shifts into a thoughtful expression. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about making a big move.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Yeah? What kind of move?”

“Cedar Bluff,” he says simply, his tone casual.

That catches me off guard. “Cedar Bluff? Really?”

He nods. “Yeah. Vince and Luke are both out there, and they’re working the Columbus Junction job for a while longer. It just makes sense to be closer to them, especially with work being steady there. Plus, I wouldn’t mind having a good group of friends nearby. You and Callie, for example.”

The mention of Cedar Bluff stirs a longing in me I hadn’t let myself dwell on. Callie and I spend so much time driving back and forth between Hawkridge and Cedar Bluff for family and friends. It’d be easier if we just lived there, but I push the thought aside. Callie’s family is in Hawkridge, and the girls are young. I can’t ask her to uproot everything for something that’s just wishful thinking.

“You sure you want to make a move like that?” I ask, keeping my tone light.

“Not entirely,” Will admits with a chuckle. “But it feels right. Cedar Bluff has everything I need, good work, good people. If nothing else, Vince owes me a beer for all the times I’ve covered for him.”

I laugh, “That sounds about right.”

Will grins, but his expression softens. “Honestly, man, it’s about finding balance. I feel like I’m always chasing the next job, the next paycheck. Maybe being closer to the people who matter will make it all feel… worth it.”

I nod, his words hitting closer to home than I expect. “Yeah, I get that.”

We finish loading the truck in comfortable silence, but Will’s words stick with me. The thought lingers in my mind as I drive toward Sabrina’s house later. What would it be like to live in Cedar Bluff, closer to Vince, Luke, and now maybe Will? To have Callie and the girls settled in a place where we could build something bigger, something lasting?

Later that afternoon, I pull into Sabrina’s driveway, the light snow crunching under my boots as I make my way to the door. Everything feels quiet, the kind of stillness that puts me on edge. Sabrina’s house looks the same as always—neatly kept, with a simple wreath on the door—but the air around it feels heavier today.

I knock lightly, and the muffled sound of Barrett’s favorite show,Phineas & Ferb,filters through the door. I don’t love the idea of him being glued to the television but he really enjoys watching the adventures that take place in the show.

Sabrina answers the door quickly, but as soon as I see her, I know something’s wrong. Her warm complexion is pale, and there are dark shadows under her striking hazel eyes. Her soft, full lips, usually curved in an easy smile, are pressed into a tight line.

“Hey,” she says flatly.

“Hey,” I reply as I brush the snow from my coat. The warm air escaping from inside the house greets me, but I wouldn’t exactly say there’s a welcoming feeling in the air.Weird.

“Barrett ready?”

She nods, stepping aside to let me in. Her movements are quick but tense, her hand brushing the edge of the doorframe like she’s steadying herself. “He’s in the living room watching TV.Shouldn’t be more than five minutes. Do you mind if he finishes? It’s a Christmas special. You can come inside.”

Her words tumble out in a rush, and her tone is clipped, mechanical. She avoids my gaze, her eyes darting toward the living room and then quickly back down to the floor.

“Sure,” I say, glancing toward the faint sound of the TV.

I follow her inside, noticing how quiet the house feels beneath the background hum of Barrett’s show. Normally, there’s a sense of life here, laughter and movement, even when it’s just her and Barrett. Those the little touches that make it feel like a home, but today, it feels hollow.

Sabrina looks like a shell of herself. Her sweatpants hang loosely on her frame, and the hoodie she’s wearing is one I recognize—an old college sweatshirt she used to wear on lazy Sundays. Her hair, usually styled neatly or pulled into a clean ponytail, is tied back in a messy bun with loose strands framing her face. She looks worn, like she’s been carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders and it’s finally catching up to her.

“You okay?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe, keeping my tone conversational but watching her closely.

She hesitates, her fingers twisting together before she forces them apart. Her jaw tightens, and I can see her weighing her response. “Yeah,” she finally says, her voice steady but quiet. “Just tired. It’s been a long week.”

I don’t believe her. From the way her voice dips and her shoulders hunch I know there’s more going on.

I study her for a moment, debating whether to press further. “If you need help with anything?—”

“I’m fine, Owen,” she cuts me off, the sharpness in her voice taking me by surprise.

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