The sun streamed into the small bedroom, the beams bright and brilliant. I looked around, noticing that I was alone, the space where Bryce had been now cool and empty. His shape had left the mattress, which meant he’d been up for a while.

I hopped out of bed, took a quick shower, and dressed. Once ready, I headed down the stairs. The sounds of lively conversation greeted me as I entered the living room. Sure enough, Bryce and his parents were there, drinking coffee and chatting.

“Morning!” said his mother, a bright chipper woman who had the sort of life and energy that I hoped to have when I was her age. “You sleep well?”

I’d actually slept like a damn log. Despite how good I felt, it was a little worrying—had I slept so much because the trip had worn me out, or was it because I was…

I couldn’t even bear to think the word. A tinge of fear ran through my gut, but I did my best to put it aside. I wouldn’t know one way or another until Monday, or Tuesday at the latest, and there was no sense in getting stressed out about it before then.

“Really well,” I said. “This house is so calm and peaceful I feel like I could’ve slept all day.”

“You can thank Bryce for that,” said Barbara. “He’s put quite a bit of money into building this place up.”

“More than he needed to,” said Steve, half-joking, half-serious.

“I was happy to do it,” said Bryce. “If it were up to me, I’d be putting you both in a nice apartment near the bay.”

“Nonsense,” said Barbara. “This is the home we’ve had for decades, and we’re not leaving it now.”

“You could always keep it,” said Bryce. “Have an apartment in San Francisco or Portland and come here when you need to get away from it all.”

Steve scoffed. “And be one of those hoity-toity people with two homes? Not a chance.”

“Offer’s on the table,” said Bryce.

Barbara turned to the stove, giving her attention to the eggs she was working on.

“What do you kids have planned for today?” she asked. “And if you say ‘work,’ so help me…”

“I was thinking of taking Chelsea around the area, showing her the town.”

“That could be fun,” said Barbara.

“And then we could all drive into Portland, if you’re OK with me buying you dinner.”

“You don’t need to—” started Steve.

But Barbara cut him off by placing her hand on his shoulder. “That would be lovely,” she said.

“Then we’d both better be back tomorrow morning,” said Bryce. “I hate to do work over the weekend, but there’s no getting away from it.”

Barbara turned her attention to me.

“Have a seat, dear,” she said, sweeping her hand in front of the open chair at the farmer’s table. “I’m making some hash and eggs and there’s fresh coffee. How do you like it?”

“Bla—” I started out. But then I had another bizarre craving. “Actually, do you have any molasses?”

The three of them all raised their eyebrows in the same way.

“Molasses?” asked Barbara. “Sure, sure.”

She hurried over to the cupboards and moments later placed a steaming cup of coffee, a jar of molasses, and a spoon in front of me. I didn’t waste any time before putting in a few spoonfuls and taking a sip. It was rich and teeth-hurtingly sweet—just what I wanted. I could forego the booze just in case, but I’d enjoy my coffee until I knew for sure.

“That’s an interesting combination,” said Bryce.

“Oh, let the girl have her weird coffee,” said Barbara. “You remember how when you were little you’d eat pancakes with frosting on them? I can’t believe I let you do that.”

Bryce laughed. “Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

I sipped my coffee, letting the caffeine and sugar jolt me into alertness. Before too long, Barbara loaded the table up with two giant plates, one topped with cheesy scrambled eggs, another with hash browns. A third plate, one filled with sausage links, was next.

I piled my plate high, setting into my food so quickly I couldn’t believe it. After what seemed like a few seconds, I had the plate nearly cleaned off.

And I was ready for seconds.

“Look at you go,” said Barbara. “Don’t be shy— there’s plenty.”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” I said. “Just been so hungry.”

“She’s like you when you were pregnant,” said Steve. “Eating everything in sight.”

A chill ran up my spine, as if they knew. But there was no way.

“That’s right,” said Barbara. “I didn’t carry any to term, but those first few weeks I was pregnant I ate like there was no tomorrow.”

I glanced over to Bryce to see what he thought of the situation, but his attention was focused on his phone, a strange expression on his face.

“Bryce, put that thing away at the table,” said Steve.

“Sorry,” he said. “Work stuff.”

He jammed his phone back into his pocket as though he’d just stolen it. It was weird.

The four of us ate and drank coffee and talked, Barbara and Steve wanting to know all about me and my family and how I’d gotten into the business and everything else.

“Damn shame about your company,” said Steve. “I’m an entrepreneur myself. Or was, until I had to sell off my landscaping business.”

“That’s what happens when you don’t take care of your body,” said Barbara.

“We’ve got Chelsea in a good spot now,” said Bryce. “And she’s really kicking ass.”

“Language,” said Barbara, giving Bryce a soft tap on the hand.

I smiled.

When we were all done, Bryce and I helped clean up, and by the time everything was back in order, it was noon.

“You ready to check out the town?” he asked.

“Very ready,” I said. “I want to see the place that made the great Bryce Carver.”

He grabbed his keys, and we headed out. Bryce opened the door to the zippy red sports car he’d rented, flashing me a smile as I slid in. He revved the engine once he was behind the steering wheel and we took off down the dirt path away from his parent’s home.

“They’re good people, your parents,” I said as we drove steadily through the woods, the trees even more impressive in the light of day.

“They are,” he said. “But my dad’s being a stubborn old man as usual.”

“About what?” I asked.

“The stroke. He’s treating it like he stubbed his toe or had a particularly bad case of indigestion, like it’s something he doesn’t need to worry about.” He shook his head. “Whatever,” he said. “He is who he is.”

He was ready to dismiss the subject, but I could tell by the way his jaw clenched that he was more upset than he was letting on.

“At least your mom seems to be taking care of him,” I said.

“She’s good like that,” he said. “But he needs to take responsibility for his own health. He’s going to smoke and drink himself right back into the hospital if he’s not careful.”

Bryce waved his hand through the air. “Anyway,” he said. “This is White Roads, population nine hundred.”

I looked around the car, noticing how desolate everything was. A few run-down houses were here and there among the trees, but there wasn’t any rhyme or reason to how they were laid out. Every now and then I spotted someone in ratty clothes walking along the side of the long road we drove down, off to god knows where.

“It‘s—”

“Don’t say nice,” he said. “Because it’s not.”

“At least the scenery is beautiful.”

“Can’t argue with you there,” he said. “But this town used to be something. It was an industrial city at one point, a place where the thousands of people who used to live here could have good, prosperous lives. But it all got pulled out from under them when the manufacturing went overseas.”

“Sad,” I said. “It really is.

We weaved on through the narrow streets of the town for another few minutes, eventually coming to the downtown area, which was nothing more than a handful of shops—a gas station, some general stores, and a diner or two—situated around a four-way intersection.

“Let’s stop for some coffee,” said Bryce.

I nodded in agreement, and Bryce pulled into the parking lot of one of the diners. Only a single waitress and cook were inside, along with a pair of men in worn, faded clothing seated at the counter. The waitress led us to a booth and Bryce ordered coffee.

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to do the molasses thing again,” he said. “That was making my teeth hurt just watching you.”

“I think I’ll do it black this time,” I said with a smile.

The waitress arrived and poured us both two steaming mugs.

“I hope this trip is giving you a little insight into why I’m running my business the way I am.”

I crinkled my brow, at first confused. Then it hit me: This was the reason that Bryce was so fixed on providing low-income housing for the less fortunate of San Francisco.

“I get it now,” I said. “Here I was thinking you were just a philanthropist.”

He shook his head. “I am a man who’s been lucky enough to have what it takes to make his fortune on his own,” he said. “But not everyone has that ability, or the means if they do. Sometimes all it takes is just a little hand up to make the difference between rising up or staying mired in poverty. I was lucky enough to have my parents, but not everyone can be so lucky.” He stopped, his eyes drifting out to the run-down city center. “Anyway,” he said. “Enough of that. I’m not trying to spin a sob story here. I just wanted you to know where I was coming from about the division you’re in charge of.”

I reached over and took his hand, squeezing it tight. “Thanks for bringing me here,” I said. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

“My pleasure,” he said. “Thank you for being a part of it.”

Seated in that cheap booth in that old diner, the two of us locked eyes with one another. There was something different about the way I looked at him and him at me—it wasn’t the raw, out-of-control sexuality I’d been feeling toward him. It was something different, something deeper.

“Anyway,” he said, breaking the gaze. “I didn’t want to simply take you on a White Roads poverty tour. There’s some fantastic nature around these parts that you don’t see in San Francisco.”

“Sounds lovely,” I said.

We finished the pot of coffee and were off, back in the sports car. Bryce took a different road out of town. The smattering of houses disappeared, giving way to nothing but nature around us, the only sign of human presence the unpaved road we drove up.

Soon we arrived at flat bluff. Bryce parked and killed the engine.

“Come on,” he said. “Drive’s a pain in the ass, but the view makes it worth it.”

He came around, opened the door, and held out his hand to me. As silly as I found it at times, I loved how gentlemanly he could be.

My hand in his, Bryce led me through the woods until we reached a clearing.

I gasped at what I saw.

The bluff overlooked a sweeping view of a pine and fir-frosted valley, the blanket of trees as green as a sheet of crushed emerald, the landscape sloping off into the horizon. A cerulean blue river curved through the trees, still and majestic from this high up. The sky was brilliant and clear.

“It’s something, huh?” he asked, slipping his arm around my waist. “And I can’t think of anyone I’d rather share it with.”

I pulled him close. I felt the same way.