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“But that gives you the time to build your dream. Do what you really want.”

“And I’m dreading telling my parents what happened and what I’m doing like I’m still ten.”

“Then tell them. Get it over with so you can enjoy this process.”

Storm had never had a dad, and she was babbling on about displeasing her father when she was thirty-one. She was lucky he hadn’t given her a verbal boot in the bottom.

“Easier said than done,” she grumped.

“It never quite feels valuable if it’s easy,” Storm said, picking up one of the cats that was weaving in and out of his strong legs.

Of course the cats liked him. He was probably a cat whisperer, and they still darted quickly away from her. Jessica had always feared that they were reading something in her that they didn’t trust.

“The cats don’t really like me,” Jessica confessed, wishing it didn’t bother her—she wasn’t a cat person, exactly though she was starting to enjoy seeing them darting and slinking around the property. “They run away from me, but run to Chloe when she arrives singing and calling out to them. She even named them all.”

“Probably because she’s swinging a bag of treats and coming to feed them,” Storm said easily and cuddled the cat close but shifted so she could pet it. “Keep trying. Buy them something special. Talk to them. They’ll be fascinated with what you do daily in the garden.”

She took a deep breath and reached out and stroked the little white spot between the cat’s eyes. “This is Pepper,” she said. And then she went all in. “You mean what we do in the garden.”

“Was that pronoun so hard, Jessica Maye?” His honey-gold eyes warmed her.

She shot a look at him. Yes, he was smiling, and his eyes practically glowed with humor, and she felt herself smiling back.

“Yes, Storm. It felt dragged out of me.”

And for a moment neither of them said anything. The moment felt electric—like the hair on her arm felt like it danced. The cat nuzzled her hand, and it felt like a win. Then it jumped from Storm’s arms, swished its tail and stalked off.

“Good talk, Pepper.”

He didn’t seem to take things so personally as she did. “Coming back to Belmont full time, doesn’t dredge up parts of the past you’d like to forget?”

“Not at all. I don’t have a lot of regrets. The past and my experiences and the people I know have made me who I am,” he said. “The past is part of us, and a teacher, but focusing only on regrets traps you.”

She nodded, once, quickly, wishing she had his strength. The urge to lean into him, just for a moment to gather warmth, connection, was frightening. She’d been alone for so long. To remind herself that she had to focus on becoming as strong as she had often appeared, she took a step back. This was her time. Building her business. Preparing to host Chloe’s party and show the Belmont area that her nursery was ready for customers.

“You make it sound so easy,” she said again, wistfully. “Easier said than done.” She could get lost in the gold of his eyes.

“Didn’t say it was easy, Jay.”

Was his voice lower? The gravel in it made her tummy tingle.

“So, really, no regrets?” she dared.

“I didn’t say that.”

She could barely swallow and felt like she had years when she’d volunteered to do a pirouette on pointe for the first time in front of everyone, wanting to show off even though she knew she wasn’t ready.

“We sharing, Jay?”

“Maybe,” she whispered.

He leaned close to her, his lips nearly brushing her ears, and she held her breath in anticipation.

“Maybe.” He drew out the first vowel excruciatingly long. “I’ll tell you later then.”

Relief crashed with disappointment, which was dumb, because she wasn’t into confession—the real kind where you bared your soul, not even with the priest at church where she attended with her parents and Grandma Millie. She liked to keep her flaws and her demons leashed and under cover.

But she wasn’t ready for the day to end, and that was something she should definitely push back against.