Page 119 of Chasing the Sun

I looked over at him. “But what the fuck are we even doing? All it takes is one distracted driver and everything’s gone?” My thoughts spiraled as my anxiety crept higher. “What if I’ve been gripping so tight that I can’t see what’s right in front of me?”

His brow creased. “Are you talking about the farm?”

I hesitated, then nodded. “I thought if I could just make this one thing happen—if I could get it right—it would mean something. That my life would make sense.”

Brody studied me for a second. “There’s nothing wrong with chasing a dream, Cal.”

“No,” I said, my voice low. “But maybe it was never the right dream. Or maybe it’s the right one for someone else.” I exhaled, not making sense. “Fuck, I don’t even know ...”

Brody’s expression softened, the corners of his mouth tipping into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You know what Wes said to me last week? We were sitting on his porch, talking about nothing. He looked out at the lake andsaid, ‘I think sometimes we wait too long to start living like it’s already ours.’”

My throat closed up. If Wes didn’t make it out of this okay, I was going to lose my shit.

“He’s right, you know,” Brody added. “We keep waiting for the moment things fall into place. But sometimes we have to choose it first.”

Silence stretched between us as I let his words settle over me.

I didn’t say what I was thinking. I had already made my choice. What mattered most to me had nothing to do with real estate or menus or a return on investment.

Elodie had let me in, and I was going to fight like hell to keep that door open—for her, for us. Even if she never knew what it cost me.

A nurse stepped into the waiting room, calling Brody’s name. He stood slowly and glanced down at me.

“You coming?”

“I just need a minute,” I said.

When he disappeared down the hallway, I leaned back in the chair and stared at the stained ceiling tiles. My heart thudded out a rhythm I’d heard in a thousand different ways before—on long marches, in active combat, in moments when everything was about to shift.

And I knew.

I knew with everything in me what I had to do next.

The dream I had imagined was beautiful, but it wasn’t mine anymore.

She was.

THIRTY-SIX

ELODIE

The inn was stilland warm, bathed in golden light that stretched long and slow across the hardwood floors. I sat in the oversize armchair in the Drifted Spirit’s kitchen, one leg curled under me, the other bouncing in time with my nerves. Levi sat at the table beside me, fidgeting with the edge of a paper napkin, his shoulders stiff, his silence louder than usual.

I had brought him here an hour ago after the call from Cal, just past midnight. Wes was in surgery. Hayes was alive. But the words kept ringing like church bells in my head, over and over until I wanted to scream just to silence the echo.

It’s bad.

There was something cruel about how beautiful the Drifted Spirit was in the dark hours of night. The fireplace crackled low. The soft scent of cinnamon and something woodsy—maybe cedar—floated through the air. Cal’s touch was in every detail, from the hooks by the door to the blanket tossed neatly over the back of the couch. It was thekind of place people dreamed of staying in. The kind of place people paid good money to visit.

And Cal had built it. He’d worked for it. He’d earned this.

I was just borrowing the peace for a moment.

My phone buzzed again. I grabbed it so fast it nearly flew out of my hand.

Cal

With Hayes. Wes is in surgery. I’ll call soon.