Page 42 of One Chance to Stay (Bears of Firefly Valley #4)

Nick: Don’t you dare cancel.

Patrick: He doesn’t want to watch me make flashcards.

Nick: He wants time with his boyfriend.

Patrick: …

Patrick: I hate when you’re right.

I stood at the door to Seamus’s house. In one hand, a duffle bag with clothes for the weekend. Slung over my shoulder, I had what felt like a hundred pounds worth of school supplies. Nick had a point, but my guilt weighed almost as much as my History of Behavioral Sciences textbook.

I had to chuckle.

Who knew that when I offered Nick the key to my room, I’d make a friend?

I panicked when Evelyn said she hadn’t seen my wallet.

When Nick dropped it on the counter at Spectrum, I counted my blessings.

What had been a chance encounter turned into one of my closest friends. I checked my phone one last time.

Nick: Must hate me a lot. ;)

I slid my key into the door, stepping out of the cold into my home away from home.

I dropped my bags by the door and kicked off my mud-covered boots.

Last weekend, the last snow of the spring prevented me from visiting.

Who knew I’d be glad for mud season? Seamus still wasn’t ready for prime time at Spectrum, but when he showed up just before my shift, Tupperware filled with lasagna, he made my entire night.

Something in the living room had changed.

It took a moment before I realized he had removed his favorite reading chair.

While I sat on the couch, my flashcards spread along the coffee table, he’d sit quietly, reading his book.

Now and then, he’d set it down, stoke the flames or add another log.

It had taken a year, but I learned to hear ‘ I love you’ in his actions.

“Seamus,” I called out. “What happened to your chair?”

From somewhere upstairs came a loud thump.

“Seamus?”

When he didn’t reply, I did the natural thing: open the closet door and reach for the rifle.

Abraham insisted he’d make me an expert marksman.

It hadn’t happened yet, but now and then, I fell one of the dangerous tin cans.

With a house in the middle of nowhere, the biggest threat was the coyotes terrorizing Seamus’s deer. At least I hoped so.

I kept the barrel pointed down as I inched my way up the stairs. The biggest scuffle I had ever gotten into involved drunken patrons. I left them to Spectrum’s bouncers. Here I pretended I lived on the frontier and that I’d stop a home invasion.

“Seamus?” I whispered.

A thud came from the spare bedroom. I tried to remember Abraham’s lessons. Only point at what I planned to shoot. What if it was Seamus thrashing about? If he couldn’t stop burglars, what was I going to do? Snark them to death? I tightened my grip just in?—

The door swung open.

“Ahh!” I didn’t even lift the barrel before Seamus pulled it away.

“Nobody shoots me in my own home.”

“I called for you. I thought somebody had— What if somebody showed up?—”

“Somebody did show up.”

He had a point. I’d never live down our first encounter. Every time I bumped into the ladies from the Quilting Guild, they giggled. I blamed Jon for telling the tale. Each time it grew more dire, and Seamus’s gun grew bigger. Someday, I’d get my revenge.

I spotted Seamus’s chair.

“What’s going on?”

Smiles continued to be hard won, but when they appeared, his face lit up. He stepped to the side, giving me a full view of his spare bedroom. He had removed the bed. At first, I didn’t get it—until I saw what stood in its place.

“Seamus…”

Where the headboard once rested had been replaced by an old desk.

Not any desk. Every time I visited Twice-Told Tales, I’d stop and run my fingers along its surface.

I said when I graduated and had an office of my own, I wanted a desk like that.

Worn, filled with stories, it occupied the width of the wall.

“How did you…”

He gestured with his chin to the other side of the room. He had installed a wall of bookshelves. Right now, they only housed a handful of books. I walked over, wanting to confirm the titles. I recognized the Introduction to Psychology textbook, still filled with a flurry of sticky notes.

“Moving doesn’t make sense,” he said. We had talked about it. I wanted to spend my nights curled up with this beautiful man, but the commute made it impossible. When I asked if he’d ever leave the farm, he proudly said no. When he said, “Firefly is home,” I appreciated his rediscovery.

“I want it to feel like home.”

If rearranging his spare bedroom hadn’t been enough to shove my heart in the back of my throat, I saw the contents of the desk.

He thought of every detail, right down to the neon sticky notes.

A University of Maine coffee cup had been filled with pens, an equal number of black and red, all ultra-fine point.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know.”

I pointed at his favorite chair in the corner. “You don’t need to give up your chair.”

That smile. He reminded me of a kid in a candy store as he plopped himself onto the chair.

The anticipation of tasting chocolate wouldn’t make it any bigger.

While I tried to choke back my feelings, I couldn’t deny how far we had come.

When he caught me staring, the smile vanished, and I watched the disguise fall into place.

Too late, it had already given me goosebumps.

Seamus sat down. “It’s not for you.”

“But—”

“Where do you expect me to sit while you’re studying?”

“Seamus, I don’t have words.”

“There’s a first,” he scoffed.

Just like that, he returned to the grumpy man…

my grumpy man. We didn’t toss around the L-Word often.

Most of the time, he didn’t need to say it.

On the desk, I spotted a picture of us taken by Mabel at the first bonfire.

He framed it, setting it on the corner. He didn’t have to say the words. Seamus lived them.

“Come here.” I signaled him with a finger. He knew what came next.

Resting the rifle against his armchair, he got to his feet. He leaned in, presenting a cheek. A gesture this big required more than a peck. I wrapped my arms around his torso, giving him a squeeze.

“Calm your horses.”

I tried lifting him off his feet as he writhed. I tolerated his scoffing. He tolerated my shenanigans. Somehow, we co-existed, and I wouldn’t change a thing.

“Mister.” I set him down, resting my head on his shoulder. “I love you.”

“I know.”

Poking him in the side, he grumbled. “I love you, too.”

We hadn’t reached a happily ever after, but as he kissed my nose, I could see our future.

I imagined that diploma in my hand, marking the next stage of life.

When I thought about the crowd, I could see him and Grace cheering me on.

We’d reach our forever, but for now, we’d focus on enjoying the right now.

“Want to help me study for my test?”

“After dinner.” He reached back and picked up the rifle. “I made lasagna.”

Dinner, a study date, and the man I loved? This made almost dying worth it.

Love Firefly Valley? Don’t stop now.

Grab More Chance to Stay.