Page 156 of Always Meant for You
I pull back, read the text, and laugh. “Jesus, you’re right. He says there might be mischief-makers on his land. He wants me to run by.”
“He’s not wrong,” Mabel says, laughing.
I shake my head. “I can’t get over all the senior citizens texting now. I’ll message him back and let him know I’m nearby.”
I tap out a quick message promising to have a look, then glance over. Mabel’s reading something on her phone.
“Did he message you, too?” I ask, tossing my cell on the dash.
“No, it’s Preston.”
I freeze. “The chef?”
“Uh-huh. He’s already heard back from his friend at the city food pantry. They want to partner with us. They don’t get many produce donations, especially organic. He says they’re serious, Cal. They want to meet. And they want us to come to the city.”
“The city.” The word lodges hard in my chest.
“We’d be helping people. Families. Kids. They don’t have access to what we’re growing and baking. This could be big,” she says, excitement building in her tone.
I nod slowly, my lips parting to answer, but nothing comes out. That vice that squeezes me tight cuts off any reply.
She leans closer, her eyes searching mine. “We’ll do it together. You and me.”
My chest aches. I nod. “Okay,” I say, lucky to get a word out.
“You will?”
“I will for you,” I manage, hating the fear that can swallow me whole.
She kisses my cheek. “And for the town. We’re doing it for Elverna.”
I nod.
“I’ll message him back,” she says, already hammering out a reply.
I watch her thumbs move across the screen. I should feel proud. Hopeful. And I do. Well, a part of me does. But beneath that, the vice tightens. I wish we could stay here—locked in this truck, held in this night. No past. No future. No truth waiting to undo it. Because the city doesn’t just hold opportunity. It holds the truth I’ve never told her. The truth about what happened to my mother—and me. And I don’t know if I can talk about it. I don’t want to ruin what we’re building here, what we’re celebrating tonight.
I slide my hand across the seat and wrap my fingers around hers. “It’ll be good for Elverna.” But even as I speak the words,even as I know this is the right thing to do, those old fears keep curling around my heart. As hard as I try, the world is creeping in. There’s no way for me to keep Mabel from city life.
And I shouldn’t want to.
She deserves everything—big dreams, bright lights, a voice that echoes beyond county lines. She’s always seen the world as something to shape, not fear. That magnetism is what draws me to her and scares me to death. I wish I could untangle the knots in my chest and set fire to the memories I’ve never spoken aloud. I wish that her breathless, electric joy didn’t scare me.
A life with Mabel is everything I ever wanted. And now that I’m so close to having it, all I can do is hope I don’t destroy it. Hope I don’t retreat into silence. Hope that I’ll keep this clawing worry at bay. But there’s always that damn voice whispering,what if I can’t? What if I fail her?
Christ, I hate that voice—that unrelenting worry. Still, it’s been my companion since before I came to Elverna. I’m not sure I could ever be free of it, not completely.
“Hey,” Mabel says softly, like she can sense my pain. “You don’t have to carry this by yourself. We’re a team. You and me.”
I pray she’s right, but the clock is ticking, and I still don’t know if I’m on the cusp of keeping her or losing her. And Christ, I can’t lose her again.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
MABEL
The cab smells of fresh bread and warm produce, reminders of the crates we loaded inside this morning. They’re packed tight in the back of the Sperry Dairy truck, bound for a food pantry in Chicago. Preston and Logan are waiting for us. It should feel like progress, but Cal hasn’t said a word since we passed the county line, and the silence has started to shift—from comfortable to weighted.
I rest my hand on his arm, his warmth barely reaching me through the worn flannel. “We’re doing good work today,” I say, keeping my voice light. “And we’ll be back home before you know it. You’ll have time to update your farming stats and stare at your whiteboard. Maybe today’s the day you finally tell me what that pink number means. One, four, nine, three. That’s what it said this morning.”
