He’s right. I can’t even deal with my desk right now. It’s stuff, meaningless stuff.
He adds, “But I’m really hoping you’ll change your mind about resigning. Give it some time.”
I shake my head, a sob escaping from the back of my throat. There will be no second chances, as no apology will ever fix this. My life as I knew it, as I was finally beginning to move on, will never be the same.
He pulls me tighter to him. “I’m so sorry, Saige,” he says as we near the elevators.
I can’t stop the sudden flow of tears that feel like a river running down my face, and I wrap myself in Rowan’s arms and succumb to the sobs.
Saige
The plane lands with a hard thump and brakes quickly. Flying commercial on a small regional plane is quite different from the private plane I was last on when I flew to New York with Holt. As we taxi to the small terminal, I pull my purse out from under the seat in front of me and stash away the magazine I bought but never read.
The flight attendant opens the small plane door, and I take the narrow steps down onto the concourse. The ground staff guides us to the small door, taking us inside the terminal. I walk through the gate of the airport and wait in the small baggage claim area. There is one baggage carousel, as this airport handles maybe six incoming flights a day.
I turn on my phone before sitting on the edge of the metal carousel and prop my elbow on my knees. My phone pings with incoming text messages, all from Emery, Zay, Rowan, and Kinsley. They’ve tag-teamed checking up on me, and I’ve been neglectful in returning their messages.
The latest from Emery advises that she visited the apartment and spoke with Evelyn, who informed her I flew home to North Dakota. Sighing, I power down my phone again before finishing the message. For a moment, I understand my father’s defeat. Finding a career you love, in a city you love, only to have it ripped away from you deceitfully is devastating.
“Piglet,” Brent’s voice calls to me as the sliding glass doors pull open.
He bounces toward me in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt; his trademark baseball hat turned backwards. My face crumples with emotion. I jump up and rush toward him, wrapping myself around him. God, I missed him. Brent, my mom, and North Dakota have always been my safe place and this is exactly what I need right now.
“Hey, hey,” he says as I cry against his chest. “You’re fine. You’re home now. Let’s get your bags and we’ll talk in the car.” He pulls me away from his chest and plants a quick kiss on my forehead before heading over to the carousel for my two large suitcases.
“Jesus, Saige. How long are you staying?” He cracks a smile as he lugs the two bags.
I wipe my cheeks with the sleeve of my sweatshirt and pull my purse onto my shoulder. “Indefinitely,” I answer him.
He stops. “Oh, this is going to be good, isn’t it?”
I shrug.
“You can say that again.”
We live in Deer Creek, which is almost ninety miles west of Grand Forks, the city into which I flew. While Brent drives carefully down the narrow country roads, I update him on what brought me home. He says very little as I outline every detail of my relationship with Holt, both professional and personal, from my first day at Jackson-Hamilton to yesterday at the cocktail party.
As we pull on to Main Street in Deer Creek, he veers the pick-up truck into a parking spot in front of the local diner. Downtown Deer Creek is a city-block long with small brick buildings that hold the local grocery store, hardware store, and the one diner we have. He kills the engine and turns to look at me, cracking another signature smile. “This calls for Martha’s pie.”
For the first time in twenty-four hours, I smile back. “I think that is an excellent idea.”
Brent and I eat a piece of Martha’s chocolate pie covered in extra whipped cream and sip hot coffee while we catch up on all things Deer Creek related. He fills me in on the crops from this summer, planned renovations for different structures on the farm, and Murphy. I cannot wait to get home and see my Murphy. I’ve missed that yellow lab more than I’ve missed anything.
Dusk has set in and, as we pull off the main road and down the winding gravel road that leads to our farm, I take in how different everything looks since I’ve been gone. The house I used to think was average is beautiful with its wraparound porch and new paint. The trees that line both sides of the gravel drive are turning colors. As we take the final turn that brings us up to the house, I see Murphy resting in the grass just outside the side door.
As Brent stops the truck, I hop out and run around the back. “Murph!” I holler.
The old dog jumps up, his tail wagging and his hind end shaking. He leaps and jumps into my lap, licking my face wildly. Small yelps replace the deep bark I’m used to.
“Looks like someone is as excited to see you as you are him.” Brent laughs. He reaches out his hand to pull me up, and Murphy follows us inside.