Page 3 of Forever In Willow Creek

She wandered back toward the mechanic’s shop, Harrison Auto Repair—and found herself standing in front of it once more. Thefrequent sense of hesitation tugged at her insides, but this time, she decided to be brave.

With a deep breath, Zoe stepped into the building.

Chapter 3: Stuck in Neutral

Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the tree line and painted the sky in soft purples and golds, Zoe stood in the tiny kitchen of the cottage, staring at the ingredients she’d picked up at the local market: pasta, cheese, ground beef, tomatoes, fresh basil. Her idea of “dinner” back in Chicago was usually smooth or whatever she could microwave between meetings. But tonight, she felt oddly... motivated.

Cooking wasn’t her usual therapy, but something about the homeness of the kitchen and the naturalness of Luke’s smile earlier that day made her want to try.

Half an hour in, she had music playing softly from her Bluetooth speaker, the savory smell of tomato sauce filling the air, and the oven warming the cottage like a gentle hug. Her phone sat on the charger in the corner, lighting up with ignored notifications she refused to check. Not yet.

The timer dinged, and she pulled out the bubbling lasagna, proud of herself despite the slight crisp at the edges. She let it cool for a few minutes, then packed a generous portion into a container, wrapping it in foil.

Ten minutes later, she found herself walking back toward Harrison Auto Repair, container in hand, hoping she wasn’t about to make a complete fool of herself.

The shop was still open, though dimmer now, with only one overhead light on inside. Luke was seated on a stool near the workbench, tinkering with something small and metallic in hishands. When he looked up and saw her standing in the doorway, his expression shifted from surprise to amusement.

“You came back,” he said, setting down the tool.

“I said I would bring dinner.” She held up the container. “Lasagna, like requested. Well, a humble attempt.”

He took it with both hands, lifting the foil slightly to peek inside. “Smells like someone took this seriously.”

“I don’t do anything halfway,” she said, lifting her chin.

Luke chuckled and gestured toward the back. “Come on. I keep a table out back for breaks. Less noisy.”

They stepped through a rear door into a small outdoor area behind the garage, nothing fancy, just a picnic table under a wooden awning with string lights overhead. The evening air was cool and carried the scent of grass and motor oil, somehow not unpleasant together.

They sat across from each other as Luke dug into the lasagna, nodding after the first bite. “Okay, I’m impressed. You might just survive in Willow Creek after all.”

Zoe smirked. “That was the goal.”

A brief silence passed between them, easy and comfortable. Fireflies danced near the edges of the woods, and the soft hum of night creatures filled the space between their words.

Luke leaned back, watching her. “So, what are you really running from, Zoe Carter?”

The question was asked without malice or pressure, just quiet curiosity.

She exhaled slowly. “Everything. Work. Deadlines. Expectations. I’ve been climbing a ladder so long I didn’t stop to ask where it was going.”

Luke nodded like he understood. “Sometimes when you stop chasing, you finally see what’s been chasing you.”

She looked at him, her eyes narrowing in thought. “What’s been chasing you?”

His jaw flexed slightly, and he looked away. “Ghosts. The kind that don't show up in the mirror but still follow you around.”

She wanted to ask more. About his life. About what he’d lost. But something in his eyes told her not yet. Maybe not tonight.

Instead, she gave him a small smile. “Well, consider this dinner a temporary truce. Me and Willow Creek—we’re on probation.”

Luke grinned. “You’ll come around.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it.”

“I would,” he said, his voice softer now, almost teasing. “You don’t seem like someone who gives up easy.”

Zoe met his gaze, and for a beat, everything felt still—the night, the town, the ache in her chest she’d carried for months. Something shifted then. Not loud or sudden. Just a quiet click, like a gear sliding into place.

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