Page 22 of Run to Me
Mabel hops down from the truck with surprising agility, her arms full of supplies.
“How’s the north wall? Still holding up?”
His confidence shows in the slight tilt of his head, the assuredness in his tone. “Like it was built yesterday.”
“And who’s the one that built it, hmmm?”
Ace chuckles, shaking his head as he picks up a screwdriver. “Can’t blame me for trying to be better than you, Mabel.”
I watch their easy banter. It’s not just a barn. It’s a future, a statement. Every piece of wood and nail and paint holds my dreams and fears together. I look at Ace, wanting to ask if he’s in this for real or just in it for me, but I swallow the question and the uncertainty with it.
The barn is massive, bigger than I remember, its creaks and groans settling into my bones. Every imperfection stands out to me, daring me to fix it. The hours slip by, the angle of the sun telling time more honestly than any watch. I can’t keep track, don’t want to. I lose myself in the work, in the rhythm of brush and saw and hammer. It’s progress, not quite finished, but enough to start feeling like maybe—just maybe—it might all work out. Ace leans close, inspecting a section we’ve just finished.
“Think we did alright,” he says, more to himself than to me.
“Let’s not count on luck just yet.”
Neighbors trickle in from the work area, sweat-damp shirts, and paint-flecked hands. Serena beams at me. She dashes off to join a group of women discussing the best way to can peaches. I glance around, searching for Ace without wanting to be obvious about it. He’s at the edge of the clearing.
He’s watching me as I approach, and for once, neither of us breaks eye contact.
“It’s not over yet,” I say, not sure if he hears me over the noise.
But the look he gives me tells me he hears more than I intend. “Wouldn’t want it to be,” he says, the hint of a smile catching the light, holding it for just a moment before it slips away.
OLIVIA
The potential investor’s shoes echo like pistol shots on the hard floor, a strange blend of city and ranch—just like me. “Your vision is impressive,” he says, the words smooth and practiced, like they’ve slipped from his tongue a thousand times. But it’s the follow-up that punches hard. “You need to run this project alone.” He doesn’t have to say the rest—I can hear Ace’s name in the silence. My hands clench beneath the table, knuckles white and aching.
The converted barn is an unlikely office, yet I’ve grown to like its unpolished beauty. Everything here feels solid, grounded, unlike the dream I’m trying to balance. The beams above me create sharp angles of shadow and light, and I wonder if this man across the table is calculating those too. He carries himself with a confidence that doesn’t flinch.
“I didn’t expect this much progress.” His pen moves quickly, an effortless sketch of letters and numbers that would take me hours to figure out. “You have quite a vision here.”
I nod, but it feels robotic. “Thank you,” I say, trying to match his tone and failing. “We’ve been working around the clock.” He raises an eyebrow at the ‘we,’ and it lands like a lead weight on my chest.
His eyes flicker over the plans, the kind that could pass for art, but all I see are timelines and deadlines pressing in. He clicks his tongue in appreciation at one of the pages.
“You understand why timing is everything, right?” he asks. “An investor like me, well, we look for certain assurances.”
I try to look assured. “I do.”
“There are ways to speed things up. My team’s looked at the numbers. If you want this investment, we’ll need you to take on the full responsibility. Personally, I don’t like to work with Lockwood’s.”
It sounds so official when he puts it like that. It sounds like Ace isn’t even a person, just a liability to be cut. The room goes quiet, and my jaw starts to ache from forcing the kind of smile that’s supposed to look natural. “I’ve got it under control.”
“I don’t doubt that, but think about how much smoother this could go. It’s your call, but you need to consider how stretched you’ll be if you try to bring someone else along.”
There it is, finally. A name without saying it. A condition without stating it.
“I’ll think it over,” I say, and it’s weaker than I want it to be. He’s got me, and we both know it.
He’s quiet for a moment, letting the silence say more than he did. I can feel his gaze steady and unyielding, the kind that waits for answers and gets them. My pulse quickens, a desperate beat against the inside of my skin. I wonder if he can see it.
“I just don’t want you to lose out,” he finally says, standing like he’s sure he’s already won. “You’re on the verge of something huge. Don’t let anything hold you back.”
And then he’s gone, leaving the door slightly ajar, the cold air spilling in.
I leave the barn and head to the house where Ace is waiting for me. I hesitate at the door, where it’s still safe, where the weight of the afternoon hasn’t pressed all the way down on me.He’s waiting, leaning against the rail with his arms folded like a question, like a challenge, and I’m not ready to answer either.
