If It Makes You Happy(129)

She jerks her head side to side and shoves it at me again. “Keep him.”

I smile, gingerly taking it and nodding. “How about I babysit him for a while? He can see the other side of the US, and then I’ll give him back the next time I’m here.”

“Okay,” she murmurs.

“And, hey, Rocket’s gonna stay here for a while,” I say. “So I’m trusting you with him too, all right?”

She nods, staring down at her light-up sneakers. “Because you’ll be back?”

“Right,” I say through a swallow. “Because I’ll be back.”

“Promise?”

I manage a smile. “Promise.”

She barrels into me with a hug, burying her face in my chest.

I pull back and smile. “And don’t forget to put Luke in his place when he talks about Steve.”

Her head bobs up and down. She runs the back of her hand over her nose. I pull her into another hug and don’t let go until she does.

I rise back up and turn to see Emily standing with her arms crossed, leaning against the front porch column.

“This sucks,” she drawls.

“Totally,” I say, mocking her teen tone.

“Whatever,” she says on an eye roll, peering out the corner with a half smile.

I know she’s not a big hugger, so I give a smile and start to walk away. But then her hand grabs me, pulling me back into a hug.

“I’ll miss you,” she murmurs.

I hold her and squeeze. “I’ll miss you too.”

“I can call, right?”

“Anytime you want. I’ll call you too.”

She leans back. “You will?”

“Of course. How else am I gonna know about what stupid things you and Josh get up to?”

Emily grins. “Okay. Cool.”

“Cool,” I echo, stroking through her long hair and smiling.

Sara stands at the bottom of the stairs, and if all those hugs weren’t enough, she gathers me in her arms for yet another. She holds me in silence, and eventually, I try to tug apart, but she won’t let me.

Instead, with her lips close to my ear, she whispers, “This place is yours if you want it.”

“Sara,” I say, but the word catches in my throat.

Yours.

She leans back, peering into my eyes. Her blue eyes are so much like Mom’s, and for a second, I can see her through them as well.

“It’s yours,” she repeats. “Just say the word.”

I blink to the ground. “I … I can’t think about this right now.”

She hugs me again, and it successfully hides my shaky exhale. Maybe she could sense it was coming. Sara’s always had a knack for knowing my feelings better than I do.

I pull apart and stare back up at Bird & Breakfast with its porch awning over the same swinging bench where I sat on most chilly nights. Lace curtains hang in front of the bay window. Inside the open door is the stairwell I descended countless times; the front desk, where I figured out how to run this place; and the kitchen door down the hall with that STAFF ONLY sign I pushed through every single day.

The kitchen is where I colored with Brittany. The backyard is where Rocket played. The living room is where Emily watched too much TV, and the dining room is where I sat with guests every single morning with my shitty cinnamon rolls and my pretty-okay coffee.

Sara opens her mouth. “Remember—”

“Thanks,” I interrupt. “But I should go.”

Her face falls. “Okay. Have a safe flight.”

I nod, but I can’t look at her anymore. I can’t look at anyone. It’s best if I leave with my head held high and no regrets.

Lisa runs at me with a hug, mashing her thick glasses against my face. George stands stoically behind her with his palms resting together.

“So, you’re going back,” he announces.

“Yes.”

“Must mean a lot to you.” And somehow, the words feel hollow.

I tongue my cheek as he pulls my shoulders in for a quick hug.

“Watch Sara, okay?” I whisper to Lisa.

She gives a wink and a thumbs-up.

Rocket taps down the front porch stairs, trots casually across the cobblestone walkway, and drops in a sit right in front of me. You’re not leaving.

I snort and murmur, “I am.”

He turns his head to Cliff’s waiting truck, rumbling in place, with the engine sending exhales of smoke into the snowy air.

Rocket’s head swivels back up to me. No, you’re not.

I bend down and pat his head. “Be a good boy.”

No.

Cliff walks around the side of his truck, swinging his keys over his fingers. He’s such a beacon of light in this winter weather that I swear even the snowflakes part for him. He walks toward me with long, confident strides, looking exactly like he did the first day I arrived. Flashing that handsome grin with a heavy hand threading through his thick brown hair. He tucks that hand in his denim pocket and leans against the truck.

“Ready to go?”

He’s so calm when I’m simply not. But that’s who Cliff is; he’s the glue keeping me together. He has been since day one.

“I’m ready,” I announce.

He loads my luggage into the truck bed and opens the passenger door for me. The passenger seat is filled with various items from the girls, which makes me laugh. I move a Barbie and a pack of playing cards to the floorboard. Glossy photos scatter in the middle of the bench seat. I tuck them into the glove box over napkins with the Burke’s Bakery logo.