Page 47 of Sometimes You Stay

And kissing.

She had no business thinking about that. Friendship was one thing. It could be sustained across unwieldy travel schedules.

Kissing required being face-to-face.

Cretia scrubbed a hand down her cheek. She had no idea why her mind had zipped from friendship to kissing Finn in two seconds, and she tried to shake off the uninvited thoughts.

Marie seemed completely oblivious. “I understand that you can’t stay forever, but as long as you’re here, you have a home at the Red Door. I won’t let you stay anywhere else. For purely selfish reasons.” With a wink, she gathered her papers and pushed her stool back. “And I know I’m not the only one who wants you to stick around.”

Fingers twisting into the hem of her shirt, Cretia watched her friend stroll toward the office off the back of the kitchen.

Of course Marie had meant Finn. Just as Kathleen had suggested earlier.

Which was lovely and confusing at the same time. On the one hand, she and Marie had an unspoken understanding. Cretia couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so sure of what hadn’t been said. It was sweet to think that Finn would miss her too.

But she couldn’t let herself want those things. She couldn’t let herself think of this place as more than another temporary stop. Another place to explore. Another place to leave.

She could enjoy the cool breeze and the smell of the ocean. The warmth of the sunshine and the feeling of grass between her toes. But she would not let herself succumb to that feeling of home. North Rustico, with its friendly people, funny dogs, and one-eyed cow, was an anomaly. Other places had those things. They just didn’t tempt her to stay.

It had been more than a week since she’d checked in with her online community. Though she had videos scheduled to post, she hadn’t responded to more than a few comments orchecked to see what their responses had been. Finn’s internet didn’t invite lengthy interactions.

It was time to get back online. To find her phone and her laptop and request a new suitcase. A great wide world awaited. And she’d never discover it if she settled.

Her phone, her videos, her online connections. This was the life—with its priorities—that she had chosen. And no fluffy dogs or chin dimples or kitchen gab sessions were going to coax her to start down a path she didn’t want.

A roof over her head was all well and nice. But homes were only good for one thing. Accumulating stuff.

And that was a life she refused to accept.

Twelve

Every time Finn walked by his desk, he wanted to snatch the taunting page from the top of the stack, crumple it up, and feed it to Jenna. But he wasn’t sure a diet high in printer paper would be good for the goat, so he settled for scowling at it. Sometimes he put his hands on his hips and gave it a good glare. On rarer occasions, he turned his back to his desk and tossed Joe Jr. his ball. He should probably at least file the paper so he didn’t risk his parents seeing it again.

This morning, though, he barely gave his desk a glance as he scooped up Joe’s slimy green tennis ball near the back door. “Come on, boy,” he called as he pushed the screen open and trotted into the early morning sunshine. Joe jogged beyond, his breaths loud and damp.

“Go get it,” Finn called as he chucked the ball across the lawn. With a happy bark, Joe leapt after it, stumbling over his paws and tumbling in the grass a few times. Finally, his head popped up, the ball lodged between his teeth, tongue hanging out behind it. But instead of coming back to have it thrown again, he curled up in a patch of sun and looked up with big, pleading eyes.

“You gotta bring it back to me if you want to play, dude.”

Joe barked. But he didn’t move from his spot, only rolling over and wiggling on his back.

“I didn’t want to play anyway.” Finn laughed, and Joe turned his head, apparently confused by the tone of the words.

It didn’t matter. Besides, he didn’t have time to shoot the breeze with his dog. He’d overslept—because he hadn’t been able to close his eyes the night before without seeing Cretia’s smile. Which had led to daydreams about finishing that kiss that had almost started days before.

He’d missed his alarm, and the sun was already well over the horizon when he kicked off his covers and shoved his feet into his work boots. He’d been pretty sure—even half asleep—that Cretia would be by. She hadn’t missed a day since she’d arrived. And he wasn’t too proud to admit that he looked forward to her visits—to every curious question about his work and the hints into her life on the road.

The Fab Four could use some leash practice and an introduction to the water, but he really needed a second set of hands for that.

Not true.

Hewanteda second set of hands. A very specific set of hands.

But he couldn’t enjoy the rest of his day until the stalls had been mucked, fresh hay spread out, and food distributed. He might even have time to take Bella on a short walk if she was up for it.

He marched to the barn and snagged the rake stashed just inside the sliding door as he stepped into the coolness. A string of barks welcomed him, followed by some high-pitched bleats.

“I’d like to think you missed me, but I have a feeling you’re just hungry.”

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