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THIRTY-NINE

Tate

When I get back to Rose & Thorn, I don’t expect the house to be full.

Jaz is taking out a batch of scones from the oven, one hand resting on her very pregnant belly.

Sloan is next to her, hair twisted up in a messy bun, arranging dough on a tray while Vale and Brax try unsuccessfully to put together a baby swing.

Scattered parts adorn the dining room table, the directions spread out in front of them like they’ve already given up.

Rourke and Leo are sprawled on opposite ends of the couch, trading insults over how to correctly eat a scone even though it’s clear neither of them has a clue. Lucian is at the sink doing dishes, ignoring their argument.

I thought I’d have some time to collect my thoughts. Maybe work on my book. Anything to get my mind off of the week I just had with Lauren. But this house doesn’t do quiet.

“How was the reunion?” Jaz asks as I come into the kitchen. Before I can answer, she holds up a baked good. “Scone?”

I smell the orange and cranberry before I take a bite, and the sweet citrus scent hits me with the memory of Lauren. I close my eyes and savor it, already knowing this is exactly how the entire week is going to go—everything reminding me of her.

Jaz tilts her head and studies me. “That good, huh? ”

“Look who’s back from my big, fat, Greek family reunion,” Leo interrupts as he strolls into the kitchen.

“It wasn’t big, fat, or Greek,” I counter. “Get your adjectives right.”

“I forgot how much I don’t miss your grammar lessons, Sheriff.” He looks me over as he opens the fridge door. “You look suspiciously like a man who fell in love.”

I sigh. “I didn’t even make it half the week before I completely lost all logical thinking.”

“What happened?” Leo asks.

“Nothing.” I lean against the counter. “I just let her stay in my cabin.”

Brax almost hoots with glee. “Don’t tell me there was one bed.”

“Technically, yes. One bed. One very small bed.”

Jaz gasps. Sloan squeals.

Vale laughs in disbelief. “Quiet, logical Sheriff —falls for the most extroverted, spontaneous person he’s ever met. Why am I not surprised?”

“The only hitch is Lauren’s interviewing for a job in Kansas City,” I say.

“Why is that a bad thing?” Vale asks. “Is it because of your offer?”

There’s a half-second of silence before Brax looks at his brother. “VALE.”

“What?” Vale frowns. “He needs to know!”

“I need to know WHAT?” I glare at the guys.

“Nothing,” Brax says, clearly lying. He wraps an arm around his brother. “Lack of sleep. Ignore him.”

“Definitely not an NHL offer,” Leo adds as he joins the group.

“Most definitely not from a team in Seattle,” Rourke adds.

“Rourke!” they all shout in unison.

“What?” he asks. “I thought we were telling him!”

Jaz pinches the bridge of her nose. “Oh, for the love…it’s not my fault my office shares a vent system with the conference room.” She sighs. “I may have overheard some news, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

“Seattle, really?” I say, astonished. “The NHL?”

They all nod.

I wasn’t expecting this to happen now. “I wish I could tell Lauren, but she’s heading to her interview in Kansas City, and I’m not putting pressure on her. No texts or calls—for one week.”

Leo mocks, “Well, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“What? I’m giving her space,” I argue.

Leo frowns. “Your grand plan is to make the woman you love think you don’t care enough to even wish her luck on the biggest day of her career?”

I frown. “When you put it like that…”

Jaz crosses her arms. “I agree with Leo. You don’t go radio silent during Lauren’s big week.”

“But I told her I wouldn’t contact her,” I say.

“Right.” Sloan nods. “Which means if you don’t, she’ll think you don’t care about this interview. There’s a difference between pressuring her decision and supporting her as a person.”

“Forget the rules for five seconds,” Jaz says gently. “What does your heart tell you to do?”

“To contact her,” I say with a sigh.

“There’s your answer,” Jaz says, clearly satisfied, then tosses her apron at Brax on her way out the door. “You guys think you can handle taking out the last batch of scones?”

“Where are you headed now?” Brax asks, looking slightly concerned.

“Baby shopping,” Sloan chirps.

“ Again ?” he asks. “We’ve practically filled our entire bedroom, the nursery, and half our garage.”

“Yeah, and we still need more,” Jaz says lovingly, then kisses him on the cheek. “Bye, babe.”

Brax shakes his head as the back door slams. “I’m going to need to take out a second mortgage just for this baby. ”

“Welcome to the rest of your life,” Rourke says, smacking him on the back. “Which is why I’m staying single forever.”

“Never say never, Rourke,” Vale warns.

“This time I mean it,” Rourke says, but there’s something defensive in his tone. “That Janie Bennett was the last straw.”

“The kindergarten teacher?” Leo bursts out laughing. “She actually seems nice. No wonder she doesn’t like you.”

“I’ve done everything she’s asked, and she still won’t go out with me. Thinks I’m a player with a bad reputation. I’ve asked her out three times, and you know what she did?”

“Put a restraining order on you?” Brax says with a grin.

“No. She asked me to dress up as a book character for her summer reading program. So I did, and she still turned me down. All that work for nothing.”

“Who did you go as?” I ask.

“Scrooge,” Rourke says.

We all burst out laughing.

“Scrooge?” Leo barks. “You tried to win over a kindergarten teacher by channeling a miserable old miser who hates joy?”

“I wanted her to think I knew the classics like Tate,” Rourke argues.

“Huh,” Brax says. “You’ve always dropped women at the first whiff of commitment. Must hurt to get rejected, for once.”

“You guys do not understand,” he growls. “I’m over her. Completely and totally.” But when his phone dings, he practically dives for his pocket. The disappointment on his face when he reads it is almost painful to watch. “It’s just Brendan, waiting for us at the gym.”

“Tell him we’ll be there as soon as I get these scones out,” Brax says, sliding on Jaz’s flowered oven mitt as he turns to me. “Want to join us for one of Brendan’s torture sessions?”

“I’ll be there after I talk to my mom,” I say. “She left a message earlier.” I grab my suitcase and head upstairs to my room, needing some quiet for a while. When I dial Mom’s number, she picks up on the second ring .

“Hi, Tate.” Her voice is warmer than it’s been in months.

“Hey, Mom. How are you doing?” I settle on the edge of my bed, realizing how much I’ve missed talking to her regularly.

“Better, actually. That’s part of why I called. The real estate agent came by this week, and we’ve started packing some things.”

The words don’t register at first. “Packing for what?”

“We’re selling the house.”

The phone feels heavy in my hand, my voice strained. “You’re—what?”

“I know it’s sudden.”

“Sudden?” I shake my head. “Mom, that’s our home. Where I grew up. That’s where Hope…” I can’t finish the sentence. The house where my sister lived, where we shared stories late at night, where her room still holds her things.

“I know, sweetheart,” Mom says quietly. “I know how hard this must be.”

I stand up, pacing to the window, trying to wrap my head around this. “I thought the separation was temporary. I thought you and Dad were just taking some time to figure things out—a trial period.”

“We are,” she says quietly. “But we realized we can’t figure anything out while we’re stuck in the same place, surrounded by the same memories that keep us trapped in our grief.”

“So you’re just…giving up?” The question comes out more blunt than I intended, but after thirty years of marriage, it’s painful to watch them dismantle it piece by piece.

“No, honey. We’re not giving up. We’re trying to save what we have left.

” She sighs. “Your father can’t stand living with Nancy—no surprise there—and I’ve been traveling, staying with different family members.

For the first time in years, I actually feel like myself again.

We’re taking six months to figure everything out.

Your father’s getting a little apartment near his work, and I’m going to find a place of my own for a while.

Then, if we both want to, we’ll try again in a new home. ”

“So there’s still hope you’ll get back together? ”

“More than we’ve had in years,” she says. “We love each other, Tate. We just forgot how to like each other. This isn’t giving up. It’s giving us both the space to remember who we fell in love with in the first place.”

I run a hand through my hair, processing this. “And the house? All our memories?”

“The memories come with us. But living in a museum with Hope’s things wasn’t helping anyone.” She pauses. “Including you. She wouldn’t want any of us frozen in the past. She’d want us to keep living.”

I spin Hope’s bracelet on my wrist. “I used to read her my stories. Do you remember?”

“I do.” Mom says wistfully. “She used to tell me all about the magical kingdoms you created. She was so proud of her big brother.”

I remember her listening to my early stories, which were pretty terrible. “What are you going to do with her things?”

“Keep her favorite books, some of her art projects, that ridiculous stuffed lion she dragged everywhere.” Mom laughs gently. “But Tate, she was never just in that room. She’s part of us. No matter where we live, her memory is always with us.”

I look down at the four simple beads, lining up the letters: Hope.

“So, where are you thinking of going?” I ask.

“Well, that’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. I was hoping to come visit you for a while. Get to know Sully’s Beach, see if it might be a good place for me to live for the next few months.”

“You want to move here?” I say, aghast.

“Maybe. I’d love to be closer to you, especially if there’s someone special I should meet.”

I grin. “What makes you think there’s someone special?”

“Oh, I don’t know—maybe that picture of you on the beach looking happier than I’ve seen you in years?”

I laugh, surprised by how good it feels to joke with her again. “ Her name is Lauren. And, Mom, I think you’re really going to like her.”

“I already like anyone who can make my son smile like that. When do I get to meet her?”

“Soon, I hope. She’s interviewing for a job in Kansas City this week, but when she gets back, I’ll have you meet her.” I trail off, thinking about everything that’s possible now.

“Well, I can’t wait,” Mom says. “And I have to ask—whose dog was that in the picture? Yours or Lauren’s?”

“Technically, neither of us—but Annie was always meant to be hers. She just doesn’t know it yet.”