Page 106 of Under the Orchard’s Spell

I blow out a long, slow breath. A bat dips through the trees, quick and certain in the fading light. It flicks between fruit—half crystallized, the other half marred. Beautiful, and nearly worthless. A complex entry in the reality that Logan is refusing to acknowledge but I can no longer deny.

“I might never be able to pay you back,” I say. “If I default on a loan from a bank, it’s one thing. If I lose your money? That’s something else entirely. I won’t let you take on a risk like that for me.”

Logan folds his arms and lets out a heavy sigh that sounds like half a growl. “We’re getting off track here. This isn’t about me.”

I tuck my knee onto the bench, turning so that we’re facing each other head-on. “This is completely about you. At least it should be. It’s your money and your future. But you’re trying to sacrifice it for me instead.”

Logan drums his fingers against the edge of the table. His face should be unreadable—he holds a poker face so well—but I know the signs. Frustration in the taut line of his mouth. Helplessness in the set of his shoulders. As much as I don’t want him to feel those things, I know what I’m doing is right.

“Why won’t you let me help you?” he says.

“I did. I have. Over and over. But that’s not the point. This isn’t about me or what I need. It should be about what you want.” Here, I take a long breath, think about his mural. “You should have the life that’s right for you—the one you’d choose if you weren’t carrying everyone else’s weight. You said you wanted to know who you are when you’re not cleaning up other people’s messes.”

An emotion passes over his still face, this one inscrutable. “I did say that.”

“And you deserve to find out. But you can’t if you’re still cleaning up mine.”

Logan swipes his nails along his jawline. The orchard has gone still but for the hum of the insects and the creak of the porch swing. There’s a weight to it, like the land is holding its breath with me—a silence that feels sentient.

“I can’t read that look,” I say. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Can you usually?”

“Sometimes,” I hedge. “I would like to say I’m getting better at it.”

He smiles softly. “I was thinking that I don’t usually do this.”

“Do what?”

“Let someone else put me first.”

My heart stutters. “You deserve it.”

“And yet I don’t know if I like it.”

“You don’t have to like it.” I think about the orchard, slipping through my fingers. I think about losing Martin. Blake and Liv. “You just have to accept it.”

The last light of evening slides unevenly over the trees, gilding one row, washing the rest in gray. A shifting line, already pulling back.

Then Logan says, “You could come with me.”

My fingers tighten involuntarily, even though I’ve been expecting this. I thought we might get here, once it became clear Logan shouldn’t stay. So, I’ve already mentally played out much of this conversation.

I’ve pictured it, too. Us. Holding hands by the gearshift as we cruise down the Pacific Coast Highway, arms hanging out the windows until they bronze in the sun. Lying together in the bed of Logan’s truck, staring up at a starry sky and mapping constellations that Logan hasn’t seen before. Passing through a coastal town and stopping to saunter down a pier before we sit on a bench, eating oysters with our hands.

It would be beautiful. Perfect.

But I can’t.

Because Logan deserves the life he wants.

And so do I.

“I don’t want to travel,” I say. Before Logan can respond, I grip his thigh with both hands, forcing him to witness my sincerity. “I’ve tried it. I had it for over half my life. And if there was one person in the world who could make me want to try it again, it would be you. You’re the only person I’ve ever met who makes me feel so stable and safe that it almost doesn’t matter where I am. Being with you almost feels like being home. But even then, I already know I would be unhappy. I would be giving up something…something really important. Even if I don’t have much more time here, I can’t voluntarily leave.”

Logan’s lips flicker between a frown and a smile. “I wouldn’t ask that from you.”

“And I can’t ask you to stay in Apple Valley and give up everything you’ve ever wanted just to be with me and this farm.”