Page 107 of Chasing the Sun

She nudged my knee with hers. “Eat, Callum. Please. You’ve been working hard.”

I picked up a piece of bread, tearing it absently. The food was warm in my hands, the scent curling into my senses, but my attention wasn’t on the meal.

It was on her.

I focused on the way she looked out at the half-built barn with something like awe. Her attention wandered, like this moment, this day, was so much bigger than her.

The frame of the barn stood tall, its bones solid, its presence undeniable.

“You’re really doing this,” I murmured, watching pleasure wash over her features.

She smiled, but it wasn’t just pride—it was something warmer. Softer. “Weare doing this.”

I knew that bywe, she likely meant the community, but I looked away before she could see what that word did to me. Something tightened low in my gut. I took a bite of the bread just to keep from blurting in front of everyone that I was falling in love with her.

Before I could face the reality of it—the way watching her in this place was shifting things inside me—I focused on the food. After lunch, work began again, and we didn’t stop until exhaustion started to set in. By the time the sun had started its slow descent, the entirety of the barn was up, standing strong against the sky, ready for paint and windows.

The town was still buzzing with a low hum of laughter and conversation, kids running through the grass, people lingering like they weren’t ready to go home yet.

The Amish women and the Keepers moved in tandem, setting out what remained of the food, tidying up, making sure everything was in order before calling the day a resounding success.

Elodie stood in the middle of it all, soaking it in.

I watched her. I watched the way she took a deep breath, eyes skimming over the barn, the people, the land—like she was trying to memorize it. Like she knew, deep down, that this was something special.

Something rare.

Something worth holding on to.

I had spent years convincing myself I didn’t truly belong anywhere. That the inn was a quiet existence I could slip into in order to keep Mary’s dream alive.

I had never allowed my own dreams to come to fruition. That was my penance for not loving her in the way she had deserved. Resentment soured my stomach. It was rare to allow myself to sulk with the resentment that I was truly unsatisfied with the inn. Expanding would have allowed my dream of a restaurant to live in tandem with Mary’s.

It was within reach. I knew in my gut that the Keepers were going to sell—it would be foolish not to. All I had to do was sign the paperwork and I would have more than enough money to purchase the land, but it would completely fuck Elodie over in the process.

It would mean I had to sacrifice her dream for my own.

When Elodie’s gaze caught mine again, something fell into place. For the first time in my life, I thought about what it would mean to choose something else.

To choose someone. To chooseher.

The thought burrowed deep, settling low in my ribs, the weight of everything shifting around me.

I started to wonder what it would mean if I did.

THIRTY-TWO

ELODIE

It was blue.

Not just any blue, but electric, riotously, unapologeticallyblue. The kind of blue that caught sunlight and flung it back like a dare. The kind of blue you couldn’t ignore, even if you wanted to.

I stood in the freshly leveled gravel driveway, arms crossed over my chest, chin tipped up to drink in the sight of it. The paint was still tacky in some places, and the scent was sharp and raw in the warm summer air, like the whole building had been reborn and hadn’t quite dried yet. A smudge of it streaked across my forearm, proof that I’d been part of the resurrection, that I’d wielded a brush and stood on a ladder and chosen this wild, impossible color on purpose.

For Stan.

In many ways, it felt like the last thing I could do for him with the little time I had left there. It was like closing a book you didn’t want to end, but you knew you had to. The barn was finished, but my promise to him wasn’t kept. I hadpromised Stan that we could turn Star Harbor Farm into the best family destination in Western Michigan.