Page 58 of Sit, Stay

"Probably." She sets down the pot, slides into the booth across from me. The apron comes off, folded precisely and set beside her. "That's a yes, Flyboy. When a man says 'probably,' he means 'definitely but I don't want to admit how bad.'"

"I asked her to move to Texas with me."

"I heard." Of course she heard. The Pine Valley gossip network is faster than base intel. "Heard you talked to your brother first."

I wince. "It wasn't like that."

"What was it like?"

"I wanted to make sure there was actually an opportunity before I got her hopes up⁠—"

"Her hopes?" Maggie's eyebrows rise. "Or yours?"

I take a long drink of coffee. It's hot enough to burn and I welcome it.

"You know her story?" Maggie asks after a moment.

"Tyler."

"Tyler." She says the name like it tastes bad. "Wanted her to follow him to Virginia. Told her it would be an adventure, that they'd figure it out together. Said all the right things."

"She said no."

"She said she couldn't just drop everything and follow him across the country. That her career mattered too. That she had plans." Maggie drums her fingers on the table. "He left. Two days later. Didn't call. Didn't write. Just gone."

My stomach drops.

"Two days later, he stopped calling," Maggie continues. "Stopped writing. Just ghosted her completely. Turns out 'figure it out together' meant 'do what I want or we're done.'"

"Shit."

"So when you show up talking about Texas and opportunities and how perfect it'll all be—" Maggie fixes me with a look that could strip paint. "She's scared, Flyboy. That girl's been let down before. You want her to trust you? Give her a reason not to be scared of you."

"I love her."

"I know you do." Maggie's expression softens a fraction. "But love isn't enough if you're asking her to give up who she is to fit into who you need her to be."

Maggie's words echo Top's. Different voice, same message.

I just assumed.

"How do I fix this?" I ask.

"Start by figuring out what you're actually asking for." Maggie stands, retrieves her apron, ties it back on with practiced efficiency. "Are you asking her to follow you? Or are you asking if you can build something together?"

The same question Top asked. The question I couldn't answer then and still can't answer now.

"Hell if I know," I admit.

"Well." Maggie picks up the coffee pot. "Figure it out. And when you do, make sure the answer includes her—not just the idea of her."

She walks away, leaving me alone with cold coffee and the growing realization that I need to start over—from the beginning, with the right questions this time.

I sit in that booth for another hour, nursing cold coffee and rehearsing what I need to say to Jake. Watching the stragglers finish their meals, watching Maggie work the room with the ease of someone who's been doing this for decades. She refills mugs without being asked, knows everyone's order before they say it, hands out advice with the coffee refills.

This is her place. Not because she inherited it or because it was convenient. Because she built it. Because she chose it.

Just like Callie chose Pine Valley. Chose her practice. Chose to stay when Tyler asked her to leave.