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I met her gaze, nodding slowly. “Yeah. Something like that.”
She reached out and squeezed my arm, her expression softening. “Just remember, Ethan. This bet isn’t about proving anything to me. It’s about finding out what you really want. And maybe, finding something—or someone—that money can’t buy.”
I nodded, her words hitting me harder than I’d expected. “You had to remind me of my past failings, didn’t you.”
“Would you expect anything else?” Sophia smirked, leaning back against the counter, clearly pleased with herself.
“No,” I admitted, a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. “I suppose I wouldn’t.”
As we continued unpacking the groceries, the conversation shifted, as it always did with my sister, to the people I’d met in Cedar Cove. It started with harmless questions—how I was fitting in, what the locals were like—but I should have known better than to think she’d leave it at that.
“So,” she began, her tone casual but her eyes sharp, “tell me about this pretty preschool teacher you mentioned in passing during one of our calls.”
I glanced over at her, trying to gauge how much she’d picked up on. “What about her?”
Sophia raised an eyebrow, the corners of her lips curling into a sly smile. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe start with why you broughther up at all. You don’t usually talk about the people you meet unless they’re important.”
I rolled my eyes, trying to play it off. “She’s just another local I’m getting to know. No big deal.”
Sophia wasn’t buying it for a second. She crossed her arms with that same knowing smile that had always unnerved me, even as a kid. “Uh-huh. And I’m supposed to believe that you’re casually mentioning her because she’s ‘just another local’? Come on, Ethan. I can hear it in your voice. You like her.”
I hesitated, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of being right. But damn, she was good. Too good. “It’s not like that,” I said, though even to my own ears, the words sounded weak. “She’s… different.”
“Different, how?” Sophia pressed, clearly intrigued now. “Different like she doesn’t know who you are, or different like she’s not falling at your feet like the women in Dallas?”
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Both, I guess. She’s not impressed by the usual bullshit. She doesn’t care about money or status. She’s real, you know? Down to earth.”
Sophia’s smile softened into something more genuine, her teasing tone giving way to sincerity. “That’s rare, Ethan. Don’t brush it off like it’s nothing.”
“I’m not,” I said quickly, but I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, embarrassed by how easily she’d read me. “It’s just… complicated.”
“Everything worth having is complicated,” Sophia said, her voice gentle but firm. “But it sounds like you’ve met someone who challenges you, and I think that’s exactly what you need.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I busied myself putting the perishables in my fridge, hoping she’d let the subject drop. But Sophia, being Sophia, wasn’t done yet.
“Just promise me you won’t run from this, okay?” she said, her tone softening again. “I know it’s scary, especially after everything that happened with…”
She didn’t need to finish the sentence. We both knew what she was referring to—my past, the relationships that had ended badly, the trust that had been broken. But I wasn’t ready to go there, not now.
“I won’t run,” I said finally, my voice low but resolute. “But I’m not ready to dive in headfirst either.”
Sophia nodded, seeming to understand. “Fair enough. Just… don’t let fear make the decisions for you, okay?”
I nodded, grateful for her advice, even if I wasn’t sure how to apply it just yet. “Thanks, Soph.”
She smiled, reaching out to squeeze my arm again. “Anytime, big brother. Anytime.”
With that, the conversation shifted back to lighter topics as we continued to unpack, but her words lingered in my mind. Natalie was different, and that difference scared me more than I cared to admit.
After we’d unloaded the last of the bags, Sophia stood in the doorway, surveying the small apartment with a critical eye. She’d done her best to make the place feel more like a home—adding a few decorative pillows, a rug to brighten up the living room, and even a plant that I was pretty sure I’d kill within the week.
“Well,” she said, brushing her hands together, “I think my work here is finished.”
I chuckled, leaning against the door frame. “You didn’t have to do all this, you know. I was doing fine on my own.”
She shot me a look that was part disbelief, part affection. “Sure you were, Mr. DIY. But someone’s gotta keep you from getting too comfortable out here in the sticks.”
I shook my head, a smile dawning on my face. “You always did have to look out for me, didn’t you?”
