Page 47 of Came the Closest

“It’s nothing permanent—I mean, technically, it’s not even an official position. But since you’re gonna be around, I didn’t think you’d want to just sit idle.” He has me there. Unfortunately. “The Yacht Club over on the northern side of the lake—which is actually the sailing club for kids—is looking to rebrand their space. Between the wedding, Em’s shop, and my other projects, I can only give it my partial attention. Our first meeting is after the Fourth, and I know you have Milo, but…” He shrugs. “I thought maybe we could work together. Just this once.”

I don’t want to say yes. In fact, I want to bolt from the table. I want to get in my truck and drive until I can take a proper breath again. Until it doesn’t feel like change bullets me every which way I turn.

I thought maybe we could work together. Just this once.

The words knock the breath from my lungs.

I don’t stay in one place longer than four days, I don’t commit, and I don’t even know if I’m good at anything other than rodeo. Because I’ve never had the chance to find out.

Just this once.

“Graham—”

My brother holds up a silencing hand. “Don’t give me an answer without thinking it over. I brought a better description for you to read when you can. Most of it could be remote, but I’d like it if you could be in the Omaha office for team meetings on Mondays. We’ve implemented them over the last few months and have received positive feedback. Your position would mostly be handling communication between potential contractors and the Club, meeting with the president to understand their vision, and, of course, paperwork. Less physical than you’re used to, but also more flexible because you could technically make your own hours.”

I open the manila folder he passes me, but I don’t read any of his neatly typed words. I don’t pause at the semi-outrageous dollar amount Del Ray Development is offering me. I don’t even linger on my father’s signature scrawled at the bottom of the page, even though the blue ink is splotchy like his pen was fizzing out.

Three things stop me from saying no outright. I truly cannot sit idle, Graham wanting to work together, and Indi’s words. The ones about Milo and boats.

Especially sailboats, she’d said.

I know nothing about working in development. I don’t know how to be a team player. I definitely don’t know anything about sailboats or sailing or yacht clubs that are improperly named.

Either you let the moment define you, or you define it.

Tripp’s words. The ones I’ve clung to for nearly twelve years.

“I’ll think about it,” I tell Graham. “I’ll have my answer by this Friday.”

Graham nods, his expression unreadable once again. But it’s not the unreadable I’m used to, because this time, he doesn’t look unapproachable.

I go back to the lake house after lunch. Cheyenne is putting clean dishes away, and Indi is coloring at the table with Milo. I’ve never been good at staying in the lines, but I lower myself into a chair and let Milo choose a picture for me to color. The girls don’t ask me why I have a folder with the Del Ray Development logo on it, but I know they want to.

Jordan texts to ask if we want to walk to Palmer’s Park for ice cream, and Indi teases me about showing her the mile markers on the seven-minute walk to Dad’s house. Milo gets tired halfway to the pier, so I lift him onto my shoulders. Something unfamiliar, something warm, knots in my chest when Cheyenne smiles up at us.

Something that feels a lot like contentment.

We eat at Dad’s house on the deck. A true all-American meal—grilled cheeseburgers on Ballpark buns, cracked black pepper and lime potato chips, and cherry red watermelon. Fresh flowers that smell sweet adorn the middle of the table from Hazel’s shop. When Hazel asks for help with dishes, I volunteer myself and Jolene. I wash, Jolene stands on a chair beside the sink to dry, and Hazel puts dishes away. We talk about Graham and Ember’s wedding, the temperature of the lake water, and the tree branches downed from last night’s storm.

At the lake house, Indi gives Milo his bath, Cheyenne puts him in his pjs, and I sit on the edge of his nautical themed bed to look at Sailing: The Basics. Milo smells like soft children’s shampoo and clean pajamas, and when he wraps his little arms around my neck for a good night hug, I feel my throat tighten up.

I don’t wait until Friday to give Graham my answer about the job. I talk to Indi on the back deck. I tell her we would like her to spend the summer here with us, and then I text my brother to tell him I’ll do it. We’ll work together, just this once.

At breakfast the next morning—perfectly golden blueberry pancakes made on a brand-new griddle—I tell Cheyenne and Indi about the job. They don’t believe me at first, but the look they exchange is rife with silent communication. Indi gets up to take Milo to the bathroom, and Cheyenne quietly tells me she’s proud of me.

When Indi sits back down, their communication is no longer silent. They tell me we’re going to plan a day trip to Omaha, because if I’m going to do this job, I apparently need a business appropriate wardrobe, and they’re determined to help me curate precisely that.

Chapter Fifteen

A Dance, A Hug, A Kiss

Cheyenne

Late Wednesday morning, the second one in June, I find myself participating in the most intense staring contest of my life. It takes place over the square top of a black M’s Pub patio table in Omaha’s Old Market, and it was initiated by Milo.

The stakes?

Winner’s choice of ice cream flavor for everyone when we stop at Ted & Wally’s after shopping this afternoon. I know it’s minor in the grand scheme of life itself, but with Colton being part of the equation, it’s a very big deal. The man doesn’t have a favorite ice cream flavor. It would be just my luck that he chooses something like pistachio today.