Page 90 of Smoke Signals

“You’re really moving out here?”

The words land like he’s already accepted it.

I take a breath. “No.”

His brows pull together. “What do you mean no?”

I glance toward Alaska. She pushes the back door open and runs outside without waiting for permission, fox trailing behind her while she explores the grass like she already owns the place.

I turn back toward Hartley. “I didn’t buy this for just me.”

He stays completely still. “I don’t understand.”

“I bought it for us.”

The words sit in the air between us.

Hartley doesn’t move. His expression shifts slowly as the words catch up to him.

“You’re serious,” he says.

“Yes.”

"You bought a house." His voice goes flat. "You bought a house and you didn't ask me."

"No," I say. "I didn't."

"I've spent a year making every decision alone. Every single one. And you just—" he stops and looks at the empty room. "You picked a school district. You know that, right? You bought a house and you picked where she goes to school and you didn't ask me."

I don’t even flinch, because I did do that and I didn’t even think about it. "Yeah."

"That's it? Yeah?"

"I'm not going to tell you you're wrong." I step closer and rest my hands lightly on his arms. “I kept looking at houses because I wanted space for Alaska to run around outside. I wanted a kitchen where you don’t have to turn sideways to pass someone. I wanted somewhere that felt like a place people stay instead of somewhere they pass through. I didn’t mean to take choices from you, I just wanted to prove to you I’m in this for the long haul.”

Hartley stares at me like his brain can’t decide how to process what I just said.

“I thought you were leaving,” he says quietly.

“I know.”

He looks toward the backyard where Alaska is now spinning in a wide circle with her arms stretched out.

“I don’t know what to say,” he says after a second.

Silence stretches between us for a minute before Alaska runs back through the door and grabs Hartley’s hand, tugging him toward the yard again.

Hartley laughs softly despite himself.

“Okay, I’m coming,” he says to her.

She pulls him outside and points toward the far end of the yard. I step onto the porch behind them. Hartley stands in the grass watching Alaska explore every inch of the yard while she drags fox through the clover.

He looks back at me.

“You’re serious about this,” he says.

“Dead serious.” I take a breath. “Move in with me.”