Winter Solstice in St. Nacho's (St. Nacho's #5) - Z.A. Maxfield Page 0,87

years old.”

“God, right?” Dad lifted his beer. “Like this is your first rodeo.”

“It’s not.” I lifted my beer and we clinked. “I’ve rodeo’d before. I’ve got this.”

“If you need help packing and moving, Mom and I will set up a schedule and rope in your siblings.”

“Thanks, guys.” Talking to my folks was embarrassingly easy. “Thanks for understanding about me wanting to move.”

“You’ll be back and forth all the time, dear.” Mom laid her hand on mine. “Understanding is what family does.”

Dad nodded. “Good thing you drive a hybrid, or the gas money would kill you.”

“Good thing,” I agreed. I would not be giving up my time with folks.

I had the best family in the world. I wished Thuong had been as fortunate, but maybe if he had, we never would have met.

When she heard I got the job, Minerva told me finding St. Nacho’s had been my destiny all along. She said the town knew its own.

Did I believe in that sort of thing?

I believed in following my heart, doing more, doing better, helping people.

I believed in love.

I believed in luck, and from that moment forward, mine changed. Things happened at an astonishing speed. My house sold in a bidding war a week after I listed it, and I got a lot more than the asking price. Ken Ashton, St. Nacho’s answer to all questions real estate found me a place I could rent month to month while I decided whether I wanted to buy or lease in Santo Ignacio.

Other people, some I didn’t realize cared all that much, like Keith from the library and my sister Chloe’s friends, seemed as excited by the prospect of my move as I was. When the day finally came to get packing, I had a crowd of people ready to help. Some from the library. Some from my family. Some from the comic store. It was chaotic and happy and fraught with anticipation.

My last look at the little house I’d gutted and made my own was bittersweet as hell. No matter how big an adventure lay before me, it was hard leaving the things I loved behind. But in my excitement, the empty house was a giant seashell through which I could hear the ocean’s waves, rustling on Santo Ignacio’s shore.

I couldn’t wait to dig my toes into the cold, damp sand or listen to the cry of seabirds dodging kites and fighting over french fries. I couldn’t wait to take one of those long walks along the boardwalk and listen to the many street musicians that called St. Nacho’s home. Truth be told, I couldn’t wait to see Thuong again, however that happened, because I knew it would.

It had to, sooner or later, because I believed Thuong was my destiny too.

The relentless longing I felt for Santo Ignacio was nothing compared to my desire for Thuong. But for now, if we only met on his terms, in his timeline, I promised to be content.

As the caravan of crap I’d decided I couldn’t live without pulled away from the curb in Galt for the last time, I glanced in the rearview mirror. My brother Mark was behind me in his truck, and behind him, Mom and Dad drove a U-haul panel van.

I couldn’t help the sigh that escaped me. Relief or apprehension? I had no idea, and I don’t suppose it mattered.

Four hours later, my new life began.

After a full day of hard work, everyone went home but Mark, who had taken a couple of days off to “help me settle in,” by which he meant, “party on the beach for a couple days.”

“Enough unpacking. Let’s get something to eat. I’ll buy,” Mark offered. “What’s good around here?”

“What do you feel like?” I got out my phone to access Yelp. “I don’t know the town that well yet, but it seems like they have most anything you could want.”

“Tacos.” His perennial favorite. “And tequila.”

“I know just the place. It’s close by, so we can walk.” I hesitated. “I’m supposed to avoid Thuong though.”

“Dude.” I’d told Mark all about my deal with Thuong when I borrowed his truck to bring the scooter here. How I’d fallen for him, obviously, and how he’d demanded I give him space for now. “Really? You have to check in?”

“I promised.” I remained firm, despite Mark’s exasperation. “If there’s ever going to be a chance—”

“When someone asks you for space, they’re not that into you. Have you considered that?”

That wasn’t the case. “Or they might be in recovery for