Page 48 of The Back Forty
I tried not to look. God knows I tried. But I did. For just a moment when I knew she was okay. And now I can’t unsee herlike that. I can’t unfeel the weight of her pressed against me in the dark, even if I was half-asleep and out of my damn mind.
She exhales, long and slow. “It was the coffee,” she says, almost to herself in a whisper. “I think I drank six cups yesterday. On an empty stomach. Before the pitch. I don't do that anymore for a reason.”
I nod because yeah, okay, that tracks. Must be something she used to do, and she messed up and went overboard with her caffeine consumption. But there's something in the way she's saying it that tells me she's holding back on giving me all the details. And I won’t push. Instead, I nudge her gently with my shoulder and point to the newspaper on my lap, folded to the crossword puzzle that we sometimes do together on morning flights.
“Up for a challenge?” I ask, mouth lifting into something like a smile.
She smiles back but it’s small and tired. “Always.”
This is what we do.
This is us.
I dig out the purple pen I keep tucked in my bag just for her—the one with the sparkly grip and chewed cap—and hand it over. She takes it, chewing the tip again as if she’s warming it up, and my eyes drop right to her lips without hesitation and the soft way that they wrap around the plastic.
In the past, I wouldn't have paid it any mind because I knew she was off limits to me. But now, I’m thinking about how those lips are a close match to her nipples, wondering if the rest of her is the same dusky pink. Wondering if I’d get to see. Taste. Touch her in a different way.
I clear my throat. “You first.”
She raises an eyebrow. “What, we’re not gonna talk contracts? Project timelines like we usually do on this flight?”
I shake my head. “Not today, Dani. We’re taking this week off. No work. Just...life.”
Her mouth opens like she wants to argue, but I cut her off with a quiet, “Not today.”
A pause. Then, she sighs and swipes the paper from my lap, dragging it onto hers. She scribbles her first answer with a determined flourish and then hands it back with a triumphant grin.
And I tell myself we can do this. Maybe we can slip back into the rhythm that’s always worked for us. The quiet, consistent bond built on trust and timing and mutual respect. Boss and employee. Our dynamic duo that's increased my family's fortune by tenfold in a matter of just a year of us working together.
But then I glance sideways, at her profile lit by the window, and I remember how she felt in my arms. How I laid awake last night, eyes open to the ceiling fan’s slow spin, heart racing with the thought of her unraveling just feet away from me and knowing that I’d do anything to take her place.
I remember how it felt like she was an extension of me. That I cared more about her safety than my own. It wasn’t just friendship anymore; it was deeper than that. More dangerous. Like something sacred and irreversible had shifted inside me.
I don’t know how to fix that. Don’t know how to walk backward through a door I never meant to open.
All I know is this: When she hurts, I hurt.
And I’m not sure how much longer I can pretend otherwise.
Chapter 19 – Dani
“Final round of interviews,” my solo friend Lydia says with a grin, nudging me lightly as she settles into the chair beside mine in the office space that we’re borrowing from Colt within the Whitewood Creek Distillery offices.
I nod, shifting the final two resumes in my lap. We’ve been through dozens, but these are the ones me and the girls managed to narrow down during our speed-round interviews last week before I flew off to Texas. Two strong contenders remain to take over my old role, Luca and Edgar, and today there's just Lydia here with me to make it official.
Luca's a recent grad from a nearby community college. Eager, fresh-faced, and hungry to build a life in Whitewood Creek. He practically buzzed with energy last time we spoke as he shared about small town living and his dreams of getting some animals and a hobby farm someday to raise a family.
Edgar, on the other hand, is already established, two years into his marketing career, based in the city of Charlotte. He’s polished and professional, but he made it clear: he’s not interested in moving. He’d commute, if necessary, which is tempting, sure, but I know Lawson. I know how much he values presence, connection, the whole small-town heartbeat and living in the place where their businesses are located. And something tells me a long-distance employee, even if they’re a great one, wouldn’t sit well with him.
Which is probably why, in my gut, I’ve already picked Luca for the job however, we’ve still got to finish the process.
Edgar’s follow-up interview is first. Since he’s not local, we’re doing it virtually versus asking him to make the two hour commute into town again.
Lydia powers up the TV in the corner of Colt’s office and within seconds, his face fills the screen.
“Hi there,” Edgar says, all charm, as he adjusts his camera and gives us a corporate smile.
We go through the motions. Small talk, resume clarifications, a few tailored questions about his thoughts on marketing not just eggs and brews, but weddings—Regan’s growing side of the business that launched at the Mayberry Manor property she owns last year.
