I bided my time, my jaw clenched, hands still fisted together in front of me, not making eye contact, not giving my brother any indication that anything he was saying might resonate. But there were parts of it that fucking resonated.

  “If you’re good with letting it end the same way it did before, then I guess that’s safe, familiar territory for you and you should go with it. But if you want a different outcome”—Seth stood and shrugged—“then you’d have to do something different than before. Now I need to get some work done. We open in less than half an hour.”

  Which meant I had shit to do.

  But I also had a staff in the kitchen, prepping away, including Zin. I was screwed up enough at the moment that they’d do better without me.

  After another three seconds of watching me to see what I’d do, he turned, walked out of my office, and shut the door calmly behind him.

  A storm raged inside of my head, making me want to come out of my skin. It’d been stirring for two days, building, but then my brother had known the buttons to push to blow it up.

  I was torn between needing to explode and wanting to curl up under my desk and cry like a fucking baby. Neither would be okay, so I stood and shoved my chair back so hard it crashed into the wall, then went to my office door, whipped it open, and marched the six feet or so to the side exit and thrust it open, not so much as glancing toward my staff.

  The rain was coming down in sheets, but I didn’t fucking care. The beer patio was in front of me, so I took a right and stormed to the shore, not giving a shit where I wound up, just needing to clear the noise in my head.

  I ended up at the water’s edge, the rain pounding down on me, water washing down my face, my whites already soaked clear through.

  There wasn’t another soul in sight, neither on the lake nor onshore, not even one of the McNamara pussies at their marina next door.

  As much as I wanted to blow off everything my brother had said, that bit about the past… It was jabbing at me.

  I’d fucked up with Ava before. I could one-hundred-percent admit that. I’d wanted to marry her then, for fuck’s sake, but instead, I’d dumped her? What kind of sense did that make?

  A fuck lot of sense if you stopped to consider what made me do it.

  Fear. Of not being good enough. Of screwing it up. Of losing her later down the road, when it would allegedly hurt more.

  If I was honest, the only thing that got me through the pain of breaking up with Ava the first time had been that the Navy worked my ass so hard I didn’t have time to mourn the loss. I’d been too damn tired at night to lie there and let it burrow in too deeply.

  Now here I was, seventeen years later, and had I learned a damn thing? Was I still just as stupid and fearful?

  Seemed like it, because I’d just let the best part of my life go without a fight. I’d let fear convince me there were no options other than letting Ava go back to LA.

  But maybe there were options.

  As much as it chafed me to admit Seth might have had some decent suggestions, he had. If it meant having Ava in my life, I could try long-distance. I could try splitting our time, some here, some in LA. I wouldn’t care what bed I woke up in as long as I woke up next to Ava.

  The question was, could I convince Ava I was worth it? We were worth it? Did she care enough about me to make room in her California head-writer life for me? Or had she already moved on?

  As the noise in my head calmed and made room for a glimmer of hope, I lifted my head to the sky and let it rain down on me, turning over my options. It was vital that I spoke to Ava in person. The sooner the better.

  I turned back to the restaurant and made my way toward the side door, standing under the overhang as I took out my phone. I scrolled to my pilot brother-in-law’s contact info and tapped his number, hoping he answered.

  “Hey, Zane,” I said when he did. “I have a giant favor to ask.”

  Chapter 24

  Ava

  Late Monday morning, I parked my car in the garage under my apartment building and killed the engine.

  I sat there staring at the ugly concrete wall in the dim light. The underground parking had been my one nod to safety since the place I could afford wasn’t in a spectacular neighborhood. Because this was LA. Not Dragonfly Lake, where people didn’t break into cars or steal them.

  Dragonfly Lake people also didn’t spend a significant percentage of their life stuck in traffic. Two days back here and my jaw already hurt from clenching it and yelling at stupid drivers.

  I’d gone into the doggy daycare this morning to quit, and it’d been weird. Even though I liked and respected Mrs. Cassidy, the owner, just fine, I’d had a harder time saying goodbye to the dogs than the humans. I got the feeling Mrs. Cassidy wasn’t too surprised or upset to see me go either, as she’d kindly told me not to worry about working the rest of this week. She’d already hired an extra person, so they were good without me.

  I thought of the teary goodbye Friday evening with Magnolia, noting the two were night and day. I’d worked for Mrs. Cassidy for almost two years and had only known Magnolia for a month, but the ties back in Tennessee were stronger. I suspected that’s just how a small town was.

  Naturally, thoughts of that small town sent my mind straight to Cash. My lids lowered as the ongoing ache in my chest intensified.

  Saturday I’d cried my eyes out, and unfortunately, I hadn’t been able to wait till I was home to do that, silently blubbering my way through both legs of my flight and the Dallas airport, as well as the Uber ride to my apartment.

  Yesterday I’d picked up my phone a thousand times to text Cash about something, anything. Little things. Big things. Funny things. Hunger. And a killer craving for hummingbird cake. Or maybe it was really just a killer craving for him. But we’d agreed not to be in touch daily. Only for the big things.

  God, I missed him.

  For the zillionth time this morning, I wiped tears from my eyes, took a deep breath, and reminded myself I had my big-girl panties on today.

  I might need to go online and buy a whole case of big-girl panties.

  Each time I got sad about Cash, I forced my brain to thoughts of Stream and my new job. Some of the time I was able to summon that rush of excitement and optimism about the opportunity.

  After quitting the dog job, I’d decided to drive to the Stream studio, where I had an appointment to fill out paperwork on Wednesday and I’d be reporting for work starting next week. I didn’t have a lot of other things pressing me for time, and I’d wanted to look at it, let it soak in that I’d be working there.

  It was just over an hour’s drive on a good day, at non-peak hours. Today, even though it’d been well after the morning rush, it hadn’t been a good traffic day.

  I’d sat in my car, staring at the place where I’d be working, and it was surreal. Looking at the buildings, I couldn’t help but wonder if any actors I’d recognize were working away in them. That had finally diminished the traffic frustration and sent a buzz of excitement through my veins.

  I’d spent ten minutes staring at my new employer’s studio, and then, trying to avoid lunch-hour traffic, I’d headed back home. An hour and forty minutes later, here I was.

  Maybe after I got a few paychecks, I could afford to move a little closer and shave a few minutes off my drive. You know, cut it down to a flat hour. Ugh. So traffic and commute time would suck. Surely the excitement of leading a creative team of three would make it all worthwhile.

  I knew there’d be downsides to the job. Willa had warned me the head writer position would be demanding, nonstop, require extra hours, and would be under constant scrutiny, so I’d been trying to prepare myself for all of that. It was true with almost any job, right? Well, not the doggy daycare, but then the hourly wage reflected the difference.

  I was going to miss those dogs.

  But not nearly as much as I missed Cash, Magnolia, Knox, Anna, and…others. So many others. It was odd that all those years ago, I’d never really fit in in Dragonfly Lake, never had time to fit in. Now I’d gone back for less than a month, and I had all these connections, with so many different people. Besides the ones I’d developed deeper friendships with, there were the Diamonds, who’d continued to spend their Thursday evening poker sessions at the inn, allowing me to join them, adopting me as if I was one of their own, making me feel closer to Aunt Phyl and to each of the ladies. There were Cash’s family and people in town, like Jake Bergman and Jewel, the bartender at Humble’s. Olivia and Shawna and Everly and Kemp.

  After living in this apartment for over a year, I didn’t know more than about two people who lived in the building. While I had a growing list of contacts and acquaintances in the TV industry, none of them were what I’d consider a close friend. The only other people I knew were my coworkers at the dog place and the doggy dads and moms who brought their pups in regularly.

  That was depressing. Remarkably, it had never bothered me until this moment.

  With a noisy exhalation, I opened the car door and climbed out into the stale air of the parking garage. I’d gotten in the habit of breathing in the humid lake air, and I stopped mid-breath now when all that registered were a dirty concrete smell and the faint odor of gasoline and motor oil.

  I took the elevator up to the third floor. As I exited, my next-door neighbor, Aubrey or Audrey, I could never remember which, was carrying a floor lamp and waiting to get on, alongside a tall, muscled guy who was carrying a moving box.

  “Hey,” I said, “are you moving out?”

  “I am.” Aubrey or Audrey looked at the guy and smiled a lot like the newlywed Patels had smiled back at the inn that first week. “I’m moving in with my fiancé, Bart.”

  “Wow. Congratulations,” I said, smiling. I hadn’t seen the guy before, hadn’t known she was serious with anyone, but then I probably wouldn’t. We mostly ran into each other at the mailboxes and elevator.

  “Thank you,” my neighbor said. “We’re excited, aren’t we?” She and Bart shared an elated look, then she went up on her toes and pressed a brief kiss to his lips.

  “Can’t wait for you to be my wife, babe,” Bart said.

  The elevator doors started to close, so I caught one and let the blissed-up couple get on.

  “Good to see you,” Audrey or Aubrey called out to me, her tone friendly and happy. So damn happy.

  I smiled to myself as I walked toward my unit. With every step, my smile faded, and as I unlocked my door, that heaviness set into my chest again.

  I wanted what she had.

  I’d almost had what she had.

  Maybe… Maybe I could still have what my neighbor had?

  No. I’d made my choice.

  After entering my tiny one-bedroom apartment and getting that same antsy, angsty sensation I’d gotten every other time I’d walked in since Saturday, I shut the door and went to the personality-less sofa that, like the rest of the furniture, had come with the place. With a soul-deep sigh, I flopped down on it, wondering how long I’d feel this way, this raw and sad and uninspired. Discontented.

  The unease that had accompanied me the whole way home from Tennessee and been present every second since I’d arrived reared its head and made me gasp for breath.

  Had I made a mistake?

  Hugging a throw pillow to my chest, I rationalized with myself yet again. A girl didn’t get a dream job offer every day. A head writer position for a relative newbie like me? That didn’t happen. Even selling a series to a network didn’t often happen to thousands of writers who spent their entire lives trying.

  I’d told myself for the past year plus, since before my divorce was final, that this was my time. My chance to see to my needs that had been sacrificed for years and years, first for my mom, then for my ex.

  Toppling over to lie on my side, I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to drown out the unsure voice in my head that asked ever so politely whether my needs had changed.

  I was in this now. I’d said yes to Stream. I’d be insane to tell them no.

  Wouldn’t I?

  The silence of the apartment echoed in my ears, mocking me. I was alone now. I was the boss of me, just like I’d always wanted to be.

  Yay, me.

  I took my phone out and checked for messages, wishing there was someone to talk to. All was quiet. Everyone was carrying on with their lives, just as they should be. Even Cash. It was two hours later in Tennessee, so the lunch rush was probably over. The restaurant would close soon for the break between lunch and dinner service, and someone would be preparing to start the staff’s daily meal together, something Cash had usually told me all about, from an experimental dish that had blown his mind to someone’s specialty dish that he was considering adding to the Henry’s menu.

  I wondered how Anna was handling the new week and whether her interviews for more desk help had panned out. I could text her, but I didn’t want her to think I didn’t trust her.

  And Magnolia… I knew she wasn’t working at the inn tonight because the Lily Pad was having an artist exhibit week, and she’d planned to stay late for the kickoff mixer after the store closed. She’d been happily up to her eyeballs doing most of the planning for the special event.

  When I’d checked the Dragonfly Lake weather earlier, the radar had shown rain, and I wondered if it would clear off enough for people to get out on the lake for a few hours later.

  I let out a groan. “You’re making yourself crazy,” I said into the quiet.

  It was lunchtime, but my appetite was MIA, so I rolled to my back and opened my email. I skimmed through the junk and the ads, and when I saw an email from Knox, I broke out into a smile. I opened it and read:

  You are stinking incredible! I’m blown away by the chapter you wrote. It jostled all sorts of stuff free inside my thick skull. I see what you mean about romance now. And no, I don’t take a single bit of offense at your “presumptuousness.” Quite the opposite, Ms. Head Writer. There’s a reason you are where you are. If you ever want to lower your standards and co-write a book with me, you know where to find me.

  I laughed, relieved he’d liked what I’d done.

  I’d finally had a chance to read the first chapters of his new book yesterday morning, now that I was no longer in charge of the inn’s day-to-day. Once again, I’d loved his writing style, and I’d been drawn into his hero’s story conundrum from page one. And then an idea had struck me to take a female character who appeared in chapter one and turn her into a heroine. She and a romance storyline could add another layer to the book.

  It’d been weeks since I’d written anything on my own projects, of which I’d had two going before the call about my aunt’s passing. I hadn’t had time or energy to be creative, but something about Knox’s project had sparked me. I’d pulled out my laptop, opened a blank document, then debated. I didn’t want to come across like a know-it-all or infringe on Knox’s creation in any way. But the entire day had been looming over me, stretching out with all kinds of unhappy thoughts. I could face that, or I could take a stab at writing a couple pages from the potential heroine’s point of view.

  I’d decided to go for it and email it to Knox, emphasizing that it was strictly for fun and thanking him for helping me back into my writing habit after so long away. I also told him if there was anything he wanted to use in the chapter that had poured out of me, to feel free.

  I reread his email and laughed again, and then my eyes went back to that last line.

  If you ever want to lower your standards and co-write a book with me, you know where to find me.

  My grin faded and I jolted upright, swinging my legs around to sit on the edge of the sofa.

  I would love to co-write with Knox.

  A torrent of story possibilities flooded my mind, just like that—something that hadn’t happened with my solo screenwriting for ages, not even last night when I’d read through one of my works in progress.

  I hopped up off the sofa and paced, my mind racing at full tilt, my heart thundering, because all of a sudden, literally in between heartbeats, a different possibility coalesced in my brain.

  What if I moved to Dragonfly Lake permanently?

  What if I chose to walk away from Stream because my needs had changed without me even noticing?

  Tears ran out of my eyes, and I legit didn’t know if they were from fear or sadness or elation or all of the above.

  I could live in the cozy, homey cottage at the inn and be there when Anna needed me and be involved with the business more directly and yet not full-time.

  I could spend time on the inn’s deck with friends—and at Henry’s and the Rusty Anchor and the Fly by Night and Humble’s.

  I could switch my focus from screenwriting to novel writing. I knew a decent amount about indie publishing. If Knox was serious about co-writing, I was all about trying it, and if not, well, I could go solo just fine. It would take a few months to get ramped up, but my living expenses would be almost nothing.

  Most importantly, there was a chance I could be with Cash. Maybe he was as miserable as I was and… God, it scared the shit out of me to even think it, but maybe we could have a future.

  But what if that wasn’t what he wanted?

  My mouth went bone-dry and I tried to swallow. He might not want something long-term. He might not want the downsides of a relationship. He might not end up wanting any of that with me.

  But I didn’t know that, and I wanted a future with Cash so badly that my chest ached with it nonstop.

  If I went back to Dragonfly Lake, I would fight for him with everything I had.

  But if he ultimately turned me down, would I still prefer small-town Tennessee life over what I had here in LA?

  I had trouble catching my breath. I stopped by the counter that separated the living room from the minuscule kitchen and leaned both my arms on it, trying to breathe.

  Because I was honest-to-god considering doing this.