Page 13 of One Chance to Stay (Bears of Firefly Valley #4)

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” I whispered the words, hearing Mr. McClure’s voice. “You can be anything you want.”

I set aside the version of me who performed tricks for patrons.

I closed my eyes and thought about the future.

The image of me flying through the void of space in a bulky suit made me chuckle.

We’d be crossing that off my list. Even as I tried to imagine what I wore in this fictional future, I thought about the man dancing about his living room.

My far-off future took a backseat to the more immediate situation.

Getting off with another man should have left me confused.

Did I need to have a conversation about my sexuality?

The focus remained on the moment Seamus continued our dance.

In the solitude of his home, he invited me into an intimate moment.

I wanted to break the shell, to make the man smile.

Instead, he presented me with an even more powerful gift.

Vulnerability.

I hoped I accepted it well, that it healed something inside him.

It had been… wonderful? I cracked a smile at the confession.

While we fell asleep, his body cradling mine, it might have done something to calm my mind.

I could still feel the weight of his arm around my chest. I hadn’t expected it to feel like peace.

Maybe Tyler had been right. Last night, Seamus had given me a gift, and somehow, I think that tied into why I came to Firefly.

I wanted, no, needed to help people.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Evelyn leaned against the archway, the epitome of winter coziness. Gray sweatpants, a sweater big enough to be considered a long-sleeved dress, and a mug with “Tougher than a bag of hammers” in a bold font. She couldn’t be any more native if she had a blueberry pie and rode in on a Moose.

“There’s enough you wouldn’t need change for a dollar.”

I knew from Jon that Evelyn had spent the last few decades out of state. She had come back after her grandmother died and turned her home into Valhalla. Jon’s portrait of his grandmother still hung above the fireplace. She had quit her job and turned this into her home.

“What made you come back to Firefly?”

She let out a low whistle before taking a seat in one of the oversized armchairs. Pulling her knees against her chest, she settled in for a big conversation. I didn’t have plans to move here, but maybe she had advice for big life changes?

“Firefly is a lot. I can’t casually ask somebody how they’re doing without putting a pot of coffee on the stove. I wasn’t sure I wanted to do all this.” She gestured to the living room. “In a way, I wasn’t doing it alone. This is as much Firefly’s legacy as it is mine and Jon’s.”

“Were you scared?”

“Of?”

“Everything? You uprooted your entire life.”

When she laughed, I spotted the family resemblance. She wasn’t as loud or animated as Jon, but she shared his laugh lines.

“Terrified. I had a job that paid well. They didn’t appreciate me. In fact, they were horrible to me. I needed a change, but I didn’t want to let go of that familiarity.”

“I hear that.”

“I ran a small boutique hotel. On paper, coming here looks like a big change. But I’m still doing what I love.

I get to create experiences for people.” I held up my coffee mug in a salute.

She returned the gesture. “I get to invite outsiders into this annoyingly cute town and give them a change of pace. Now I get to do what I love in a place I…” She let out a low growl. “In a place I love.”

“Painful to admit, huh?”

“Firefly is growing on me. That’s why I wanted to do the solstice bonfire. It’ll give me a chance to give back to the community that’s supported my dream.”

“What was the tipping point?”

“This isn’t genuine curiosity, is it?”

I shook my head.

“I needed a change. Jon refers to it as an adventure.” She took another sip. Her lips pursed as she thought of an answer. “It wasn’t one thing. There were signs all over the place. I think it finally clicked when I stopped resisting so damned much.”

Had I been resisting? Resisting might not be the right word, but I had a PhD in dodging my problems. There were signs.

Staying late at the bar as a man recounted his crumbling relationship.

Calling him a cab and escorting him into the backseat so he made it home safely.

The fist bumps from patrons as they said thanks for listening.

The kiss. I believe it had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with making him feel safe.

Seamus.

“It looks like you’re seeing the signs.” Evelyn’s feet dropped to the rug, and she leaned forward. “It’s okay to be scared. Not every forty-year-old knows what they want to do with their lives.”

“Thirty-seven.”

“So, you’ve got a few years before it’s all downhill.” Evelyn got up, reaching in my direction. I handed her my empty mug. “I’m going to make some more cocoa. Do you want a refill? I think we have plenty more to talk about.”

I handed her my mug. “Yes, please.”

As she exited the living room, she shouted back. “Don’t forget to leave Valhalla a rating online.”

I couldn’t help but snicker. With a simple, friendly statement, she hit the nail on the head. Fear of change… of what lay ahead… of failure. There were a lot of things that held me in check thanks to this single four-letter word. What were the possibilities?

Maybe I just needed to remember who I once was? In a world without fear, I’d be slow dancing to jazz on vinyl.