He recommended that I avoid visiting Paige for the rest of the day, maybe even the day after that, and told me why. I nodded, understanding and accepting his reasoning. After all, none of this was new.
Afterward, I went to my aunt’s room and finally told her about Paige. Her eyes welled with tears, and I saw the same anguished guilt in her expression that I felt, the same helplessness.
When I finished, she pinched the bridge of her nose, then wiped away her tears.
“Go home,” she said, fixing me with a stern glare. “You look exhausted.”
“But I want to stay,” I protested. “I need to be here.”
She forced a lopsided scowl, only half of her face cooperating.
“Colby, you need to take care of yourself right now.”
She didn’t bother to point out how pressed I would be at the farm for the next few weeks or that I’d be no good to either of them if I collapsed. We both already knew those things.
At the hotel, I repacked my things, feeling like my days in Florida were a distant dream. As I drove home, I could still feel lingering tension in my neck and shoulders, and memories of Paige’s terrified pleas as I left her hospital room only made things worse.
I exited the highway in Washington and eventually reached the gravel road that led to the farm. I scanned both sides of the road, noting the farmworkers in the fields and vehicles parked near the office and the egg-packaging facility. From outward appearances, it seemed as though nothing had happened, yet all I could think was that everything had been irrevocably altered.
When I saw the house in the distance, I swallowed my dread at the thought of having to go inside. But as I turned in to the drive, I made out a petite figure sitting on the porch, a small carry-on suitcase and a tote beside her. I blinked to clear my vision, but it wasn’t until I pulled to a stop and saw her wave at me that I realized it was truly Morgan.
Stunned, I climbed out and approached her. She was dressed in jeans, boots, and a white sleeveless blouse, her long dark hair cascading over her shoulders. A hundred memories and sensations rushed to the surface, leaving me dazed. “What are you doing here?”
“I was worried about you,” she said. “You didn’t sound too good on the phone and then I didn’t hear from you after I got home last night, so I booked the earliest flights I could for this morning and called an Uber from the airport.” She stood, shifting nervously from foot to foot. “Are you mad at me?”
“Not at all,” I said, reaching out to touch her arm, my fingertips lingering on her wrist. “How long have you been waiting?”
“Not long. Maybe an hour or so?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“I left a message,” she countered. “Didn’t you get it?”
Pulling out my phone, I saw the voicemail notification. “I didn’t check. And I’m sorry for not calling you. I just couldn’t.”
She ran a hand through her hair and nodded. In the silence that followed, I knew my words had hurt her.
I avoided her gaze, hating myself for yet another reason. “How did you know I’d be here?”
“It was either here or the hospital.” She shrugged. “The hospital was closer to the airport, but I don’t know your aunt’s last name, so I wasn’t sure I could even find you. So here I am. But I still can’t tell if coming was a good idea.” She hugged her arms to her body.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I said, moving closer and pulling her toward me. When I felt her body against my own, the emotions I’d been suppressing since my return suddenly engulfed me. I choked out a ragged sob as Morgan clutched me tight, whispering that everything would be okay. I’m not sure how long we stood that way, but in the comfort of her embrace, my tears finally subsided.
“I’m sorry,” I began, pulling back, only to have Morgan cut me off with a shake of her head.
“Don’t ever apologize for being a human being. Your aunt had a stroke—it’s got to be terrifying.” She stared up at me, searching my eyes. “You still love me, right?”
“More than anything.”
She rose to her toes and kissed me. Reading the lingering anxiety in my expression, she apparently decided to wait until I was ready to share any updates. Instead, she swept her arm toward the fields. “So, this is it, huh? The farm?”
“Yeah.” I smiled as I watched her study the surroundings with open curiosity.
“It doesn’t look like I imagined.”