Chapter 16

16

Chloe

The kiss lingered.

Like the aftertaste of a rich wine, it clung to every corner of my consciousness. Mason’s lips had been firm yet tender, sparking a blaze I wasn’t prepared to handle. Each time I closed my eyes, I could feel the ghost of his touch, and I’d jerk awake, equal parts thrilled and terrified.

“Morning, Chlo,” Pete greeted me with that typical, lopsided grin as I walked into Sunshine Acres’ cozy office. His voice was like a splash of cold water, dousing the fires of my daydream.

“Hey, Pete.” I kept my tone light, neutral, focusing on flipping through the stack of invoices on the desk. Work always piled up when you least wanted it.

“Nice day out, huh?” He leaned against the desk, too close for comfort, but I knew he meant no harm. “Makes a guy think about heading down to the lake. Maybe have a picnic. You know, with someone special.”

I tensed, felt the weight of his gaze. “Sounds nice,” I ventured cautiously, hoping he’d miss the hint of disinterest I couldn’t mask .

“Thought maybe you’d wanna come with me this Saturday. I mean, if you’re free.” Pete’s voice held a hopeful note, one that tugged at whatever cord in me vibrated with pity.

“Actually,” I started, the words catching in my throat, “I’ve got plans already.”

“Sure, sure,” he said quickly, backing off with an ease that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Another time, then.”

“Another time,” I echoed, but we both knew it was just a polite deflection. I watched him walk away, his shoulders a little slumped, and turned back to the invoices with a sigh. Emotions were such messy things, tangling up inside me until I couldn’t tell where one ended and another began.

Mason. Pete. My past.

A mess, indeed.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, watching Pete retreat with that forced nonchalance. The air in the office seemed to thicken, heavy with the unspoken words hanging between us. I had to clear the air before it suffocated me.

“Pete,” I called out, and he paused, a half-turn that held a flicker of hope I knew I had to snuff out. It wasn’t fair to either of us.

He approached again, his smile tentative. “Yeah, Chloe?”

I took a deep breath, choosing my words like picking glass from a wound—careful, so careful not to cause more hurt. “I just want to be honest with you.”

His smile faltered, eyes searching mine for a hint of what was coming. “Honesty’s good,” he replied, though the cheer in his voice had dimmed.

“Look, you’re great, Pete. Really, you are.” My hands twisted together under the desk, unseen. “But I don’t think going out is such a good idea. Not now. Not . . . with how things are.” God, I was bad at this .

“Things?” His brow furrowed in confusion or maybe it was the beginning of understanding.

“Personal things. I’m just not ready to . . . or, I’m not interested in . . .”

“Ah.” The sound was small, resigned. And it hit me harder than any protest could have.

“I hope we can still be friends?” The question hung in the space between us, fragile as a soap bubble.

“Of course, Chlo.” The nickname felt like a punch to the gut, warm and familiar and now tinged with a sadness I had caused. “Friends.” He nodded, but it was like he was nodding to himself, convincing his own heart of the fact.

“Thanks for understanding.” The gratitude was genuine; relief and regret mingling in a bitter cocktail.

“Always,” he said, and this time when he walked away, there was no pretense of lightness. Just a man retreating.

I let out a shuddering breath, alone again with the invoices. Alone with the guilt gnawing at my insides. Pete wasn’t a bad guy, but I wasn’t interested. Honesty was kindest in the long run. Wasn’t it?

“Stupid, stupid feelings,” I muttered under my breath, pressing a hand to where my heart ached behind my ribcage. Mason’s face flashed in my mind, bringing a whole different kind of ache.

“Get it together,” I whispered to myself, forcing my focus back to numbers and dates—anything but the messy tangle of human emotions threatening to unravel me.

The door to Eryn’s place swung open before I even knocked, spilling warm light onto the porch. “Chloe, you made it!” Eryn greeted me with a hug that felt like being wrapped in sunshine.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” I managed, my voice steadier than my nerves. Girls’ night at Red Downs Ranch was the last place I ever expected to find myself. But here I was, being social.

“Come in, come in! Caroline and Sutton are already wreaking havoc in the kitchen.” Eryn’s laugh, as always, was infectious and I found myself smiling despite the turmoil of emotions still churning within me.

“Hey, Chloe!” Caroline called out from where she stood, precariously balancing a tray of White Claws. “Catch!” She tossed one my way. My hand shot out, more reflex than skill, and snagged it from the air.

“Nice reflexes,” Sutton said, her grin mischievous as she stirred something fragrant on the stove. “Maybe we should draft you for the town’s softball team.”

“Ha, right.” I popped open the can and took a sip. “Because what every team needs is a player who’s more likely to hit herself in the face than the ball.”

Laughter bubbled up around me, and I felt the weight on my chest lighten just a bit. These women, with their easy banter and open hearts, were becoming the family I hadn’t known I needed.

“Okay, ladies,” Eryn announced, clapping her hands together. “Tonight is about fun, relaxation, and all the wine and White Claws we can responsibly consume.” She winked. “Responsibly being open to interpretation.”

“Speaking of wine,” Caroline chimed in, waving a bottle of Pinot Noir, “I need someone with actual upper body strength to uncork this. Any volunteers?”

“I’ve got it,” Sutton said, sauntering over with the swagger of a woman confident in her cork-popping abilities. “Prepare to be amazed.”

We gathered in the living room, a riot of throw pillows and laughter, each of us claiming a spot on the cozy sectional. Eryn poured the wine with the grace of a sommelier, while Caroline distributed the snacks like they were prescriptions for happiness.

“Here’s to friends,” Eryn toasted, raising her glass. “The family you choose.”

“Cheers to that,” I said, the sound of our glasses clinking a melody of solidarity.

“Okay, spill it, Chloe,” Caroline said after a sip, her doctor’s intuition kicking in. “You’ve got that look. Like you’re trying to solve a puzzle inside your head.”

“Is it that obvious?” I asked, tracing the rim of my glass.

“Only to those of us who care enough to notice,” Sutton said with a soft smile.

“Let’s just say . . . work was interesting today.” I hesitated, but there was something about being in this circle that coaxed secrets to the surface.

“Was it Pete again?” Eryn asked, gently.

“Got it in one,” I replied, the details tumbling out now. “I had to let him down. I just hope I didn’t hurt him too much. He’s a good guy.”

“Wait, Pete Dillard asked you out?” Sutton asked, trying to catch up.

“Ah, he’s asked me out a few times,” I confessed, feeling the familiar twist of discomfort just thinking about it. “Today, again. And it’s just—I don’t know, it’s awkward.”

“Awkward like how?” Sutton inquired, leaning forward, her dark curls spilling over her shoulders.

“Like, wishing I could be swallowed by a sinkhole level of awkward.” My words drew a round of knowing nods.

“Did you tell him you’re not interested?” Caroline’s practical tone laced with sympathy .

“Sort of. I’m not very good at confrontation, and I get so flustered I feel like I just lose consciousness and don’t remember what I say.” My voice was soft, the weight of guilt still pressing on my chest. “I hate hurting people’s feelings. But it’s like he didn’t get it? Or didn’t accept it before.”

“Sounds like Pete needs a reality check,” Eryn muttered.

“Or a new hobby,” Sutton added, earning a snort from Caroline.

“Maybe both,” I said, smiling despite the twinge of empathy for Pete’s bruised heart. “I think I got the point across this time . . . I hope.”

“Stand your ground,” Eryn said firmly. “You’re kind, Chloe, but don’t let that kindness trample over your own comfort. Let me know if I have to step in officially.”

Caroline nudged Eryn. “Yeah, call HR here and shut it all down. And if he keeps bothering you, we can always arrange an intervention. The Sunshine Acres style.”

“Featuring pitchforks and cow manure?” I quipped, and we erupted into laughter once more.

“Girl, don’t tempt us,” Sutton chimed in. “We’ll do it.”

Laughter surrounded me and I couldn’t help but join in.

In the glow of Eryn’s living room, surrounded by these new friends, I felt seen. Heard. Understood. No longer alone.

And as we segued from Pete to other tales of misguided courtships and the joys and jolts of rural living, I marveled at the ease with which I could now share parts of myself. A stark contrast to how I used to be, shadowed by uncertainty and the stifling fear of entanglement.

“Thanks, guys,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, but every pair of eyes met mine with fierce affection. “For listening. For . . . everything.”

“Always!”

“And always remember you’re allowed to say no,” Caroline reminded me, her voice firm yet kind. “You don’t owe anyone your affection.”

“Besides,” Sutton added, “you’ve got bigger fish to fry, or should I say . . . cowboys to kiss?” Her eyebrow raise was comically suggestive.

“Shut up.” I laughed, swatting a pillow at her. “It’s not like that with Mason.” What a bald-faced lie.

“Sure,” they chorused, disbelief written all over their faces.

“Okay, maybe it’s a little like that,” I conceded, warmth flooding my cheeks.

“Girl, it’s written all over you,” Eryn said, her tone as soothing as a cool breeze. “And there’s nothing wrong with taking a chance on someone who gives you butterflies.”

“Even if those butterflies feel like they’ve got combat boots on?” I joked, earning another round of laughter from the group.

“Especially then,” Sutton and Caroline said in unison.

Eryn raised her glass again. “To friendship, new beginnings, and combat-boot-wearing butterflies. May they lead you exactly where you need to go.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

Leaning back into the plush cushions of Eryn’s oversized couch, I let out a contented sigh. The laughter around me was like a melody, each note lifting the weight of the day from my shoulders. My fingers traced the rim of the wine glass cradled in my hand, a sweet blush rosé that tasted like liquid summer.

I was drunk. Or at least, very tipsy.

A giggle escaped my lips.

No, I was drunk .

“Okay, so it’s my turn,” Sutton declared, setting down her cupcake frosted with enough pink buttercream to make a flamingo blush. “Two truths and a lie—let’s see if you can spot the fib.”

I tuned in, eager to play along, feeling the walls I’d built around myself crumble piece by piece in the warmth of their company.

“Alright, hit us with it,” I encouraged, curiosity piqued.

“I once backpacked across Europe with nothing but a fanny pack, I’ve never broken a bone, and I hate chocolate,” Sutton rattled off, her gray eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Please,” I scoffed playfully, “no one hates chocolate. That’s just un-American.”

“Ah, she’s got you there, Sut,” Caroline chimed in, grinning.

“Guilty as charged,” Sutton laughed, popping a piece of the condemned confection into her mouth. “But seriously, who needs luggage when you have pockets?”

“Spoken like a true minimalist,” Eryn said with a nod of approval.

“Or a kangaroo,” I quipped, earning a chorus of giggles.

“Chlo, you are so shy at first, but your sense of humor is a stealth attack, I swear,” Eryn said, her amber eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Like a ninja?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly,” Caroline agreed. “A humor ninja.”

“Silent but deadly,” I added, deadpan. The room erupted into howls of laughter.

“Okay, Chloe, your turn,” Eryn urged, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes.

“Alright,” I started, the game pulling me further out of my shell. “I’m terrified of clowns, I can recite every line from ‘ The Princess Bride’, and I once went skinny dipping in the town fountain.”

“God, I hope the last one’s the lie,” Caroline blurted out, her cheeks flushing a shade that rivaled her hair.

“Is it weird that I want that one to be true?” Eryn pondered, tilting her head.

“Very weird,” I assured her with a grin. “And yes, that’s the lie. But the night is young!”

“Thank heavens for small mercies,” Sutton sighed dramatically, to more laughter.

“Okay, I don’t know about you ladies, but I could use another round,” Eryn said, standing gracefully.

“Careful, Eryn,” I warned, “or we might end up testing my fountain theory.”

“Only if you’re leading the charge, Chlo,” Sutton said, winking at me.

“Let’s save that for a night when we’re feeling particularly rebellious—and waterproof,” I shot back, the corners of my lips twitching upward.

As we refilled our glasses and settled back into our cozy nook of female solidarity, I found myself thinking that maybe, just maybe, this town could become a place where I wasn’t just the girl with scars and a past too heavy to carry alone. Here, with these women, I felt lighter, braver, and ready to face whatever came next.

“Here’s to humor ninjas,” I toasted, lifting my glass.

“And to friendship that feels like coming home,” Eryn added, her voice as soft as a promise.

“Cheers to that,” they echoed, and we drank deep.

I knew I’d be hungover tomorrow, but it would be worth it.