Page 86 of Caden & Theo

Moses leans in, elbows on the counter. “You nervous about him?”

I pause. “Who?”

He just lifts a brow.

I huff out a laugh. “Word travels.”

“Gomillion’s the kind of town where you can’t fart without someone’s aunt posting about it on Facebook.”

I shake my head, but the laugh that slips out is real. It catches me off guard—like a pressure valve cracking open.

“I don’t know what to expect,” I admit, voice quieter now. “I haven’t seen him since….”

“I know,” Moses says gently, his tone shifting.

“And yeah, I’m nervous. I’d be an idiot not to be.”

Moses gives a slow nod, one of those bartender expressions that somehow makes you feel both seen and unjudged. “Understandable.”

He tops off my glass and leans on the bar. “Look, I’m not gonna pretend to know the whole story—only what people whisper when they think no one’s listening. But I know what it’s like to carry something for a long time and not say it out loud.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, wiping the counter absently. “So whatever it is between you two—whatever it used to be, whatever it is now—don’t waste the moment. Talk to him. Don’t dance around it.”

I exhale through my nose. “That’s your professional opinion, huh?”

“You want closure, ask for it. You want answers, go get ’em. You want to bolt, at least wait until you’ve finished your beer.”

I snort. “You really missed your calling as a therapist.”

“Nah,” he says, grinning. “Shit pays less, and they don’t let you wear flannel.”

I finish my drink. Just one. Enough to settle the static inside my ribs.

Outside, the early-evening light spills golden over Main Street, casting long, gentle shadows that stretch lazily across the pavement. The air’s warm but not heavy, threaded with the scent of honeysuckle and cut grass—quintessential May. Somewhere down the block, a lawnmower buzzes, underscored by the hum of cicadas starting to tune up for the evening.

I pause before getting into my car, one hand on the door, the other still in my pocket. Main Street looks the same as it always has—brick-front shops, the barber pole spinning slowly like it’s got all the time in the world. I stare down the road like it might give me some kind of answer. Like maybe the asphalt remembers more than I do.

Caden’s here. Or about to be.

And every nerve in my body is starting to wake up.

He’s probably already checked into the B&B. Maybe he’s unpacking. Maybe he’s pacing, just like me. We’ve gone more than a decade without seeing each other, but somehow the thought of him being less than ten blocks away has my heart doing cartwheels and tying itself in knots at the same time.

I consider swinging by.

But showing up unannounced? If he didn’t want to see me….

I take a long breath. Whatever happens tomorrow, the silence we’ve been living in is over.

One way or another.

The car’s interior is warm from the spring sun, and my hand lingers on the wheel longer than it should. I sit for a second before pressing the ignition, the engine growling to life with a soft rumble. Just as the dash lights up, my phone rings through the Bluetooth system.

Mom.

I sigh and tap Answer on the steering wheel. “Hey, Ma.”