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“That’s awesome, buddy,” I say, tousling his hair. “You're gonna crush it.”

Beckett eyes me over his coffee. “You look like a man with something on his mind.”

Abby tilts her head, reading me like a book. “This is about the call, isn’t it?”

I blink. “How did you—”

“Quinn told me,” she says gently. “She didn’t give details. Just that something came up.”

I glance at Jake, then back at them. “I don’t want to mess this up. Not just with Quinn, but with all of you. This town. This life.”

Beckett leans forward. “You think she wants you to sacrifice your career for her?”

“No.”

“Then why are you acting like it has to be one or the other?”

Abby adds, “You have options. Maybe it’s not that you’re stuck between two lives—maybe it’s about building one that actually fits.”

Jake spills a little syrup on the table and laughs. “Oops.”

Abby reaches over with a napkin. “You’re not going to miss this, are you?” She grins as she cleans up the sticky mess.

And just like that, something clicks.

Just before noon, I head to Quinn’s house. She meets me at the door, apron dusted with flour, like she’d been baking to keep her mind off things.

“You came,” she says, stepping aside.

“I said I would.”

She nods and gestures toward the kitchen table. “I made chicken salad. And pie. Don’t ask me why—I just needed to keep my hands busy.”

I smile and sit down. “Smells amazing.”

Once we’ve eaten a few bites in silence, I push my plate aside. “I turned it down.”

Her fork stills midair.

“I called them this morning. Told them thanks but no thanks.”

Her eyes search mine. “Why?”

“Because I finally figured out what I want. And it’s not another big arena or a paycheck with more zeroes. It’s this. You. My friends. Their kids. This messy, beautiful life. And I don’t want to spend another minute away from it.”

Her eyes shimmer. “You sure?”

I nod. “Completely.”

She reaches across the table and takes my hand. “Then let’s build it. Together.”

We finish the meal and move to the kitchen to clean up. As we stand side by side at the sink, our hands brush in the water. She laughs when I splash water at her, and she retaliates by flicking a bit of soapy foam onto my cheek. We’re both laughing now, relaxed in a way that feels natural.

Suddenly the laughter fades into quiet.

I turn toward her, reach up to tuck a damp strand of hair behind her ear. “I meant it. Every word.”

She nods. “I know.”