THE EMBRACE THAT TIME FORGOT

Episode 10

TRUTH, THORNS AND THINGS LEFT UNSAID

The next morning, Ashmoor woke up to the scent of honeysuckle and the sound of Eloise Granger’s very public freakout.

“I kissed him. I kissed him, Mags. What the hell is wrong with me?”

Margot, Eloise’s best friend and her designated emotional anchor, sipped her coffee with infuriating calm. “You kissed your hot ex. A man who, may I remind you, never stopped looking at you like you hung the damn moon. I fail to see the problem.”

Eloise threw herself backward on the sun-warmed grass in Margot’s backyard. “The problem is that I still don’t trust him. Not completely. And I’m not a teenager writing love poems in her psych notebook anymore. I’m a grown-ass woman who signs publishing contracts and survives on iced coffee and sarcasm.”

Margot lay down beside her. “You’re also someone who, despite her best efforts, has never written a male lead who wasn’t Rowan Hale in disguise.”

“Not true,” Eloise muttered.

“Liam in The Velvet Hour literally taught at a coastal university and played guitar. Rowan 101.”

Eloise groaned, pulling her hoodie over her face. “God, I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I do. Unfortunately.”

They lay in silence for a moment, the kind that only years of friendship could craft. Eloise stared up at the blue sky, wondering if it was fair that nature looked so peaceful when her heart felt like it had been tossed into a cement mixer.

“Okay,” Margot said suddenly, sitting up. “Let’s list it out. Pros and cons. Go.”

Eloise blinked. “You want to list my emotional breakdown?”

“Yes. It’s science.”

“Fine,” Eloise sighed. “Pro: he’s honest. He showed me the letter. Con: it took him ten years.”

“Pro: he’s stayed in Ashmoor. Con: he has a stupidly perfect jawline and I can’t think when he’s around.”

Margot grinned. “We’re getting somewhere.”

“Con,” Eloise added, more quietly, “I don’t know if I can let myself believe again. Not just in him. In… us.”

Margot sobered. “You can. When you’re ready. And if Rowan’s smart—and I suspect he is—he’ll wait.”

Eloise gave a half-hearted nod, the kind that was less agreement and more acknowledgment of reality. Her phone buzzed beside her.

Rowan: Hey. Hope today’s writing workshop still stands. I’ve got the coffee. And possibly muffins. Just say the word.

Eloise’s heart did a traitorous little flutter.

“I’m doomed,” she muttered.

Margot smirked. “You’re in love.”

“Same thing.”

The bookstore smelled like cinnamon and old pages—two of Eloise’s favorite things. Rowan stood behind the counter with a paper bag in one hand and a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Hazelnut muffins,” he said. “Your favorite. I remembered.”

She wanted to be snarky. Wanted to throw up emotional defenses like roadblocks on a raceway. But something about the softness in his voice made her tuck her sarcasm away, just for today.

“Thanks,” she said, stepping inside.

Their workshop group was already gathering at the back of the store, chattering and sipping coffee. Eloise dropped her bag behind the counter and joined them, noticing the way Rowan’s eyes followed her, like a man watching a sunrise he wasn’t sure he deserved to see again.

The class began with character development. Eloise led a passionate discussion about flaws and emotional wounds. The irony of it wasn’t lost on her.

One of the younger writers, Nora, raised her hand.

“Is it possible,” she asked thoughtfully, “to write a happy ending when your characters are still holding onto old pain?”

Eloise hesitated.

Rowan, from the back of the room, answered.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “Because sometimes healing isn’t about being pain-free. It’s about finding someone who’ll walk with you while you’re still hurting.”

Everyone turned to look at him. Eloise most of all.

Her heart gave a single, stubborn thump.

After class, the group filtered out. Rowan lingered.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

She crossed her arms. “Aren’t we doing that already?”

“Alone.”

She considered bolting. But instead, she followed him to the back room, where books were stacked in teetering towers and the smell of wood polish clung to the shelves.

He turned to face her. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what we said yesterday. About how we lost ten years. About Sam.”

Eloise tensed. “Did you reach out to her?”

“She blocked me,” Rowan said simply. “Phone. Socials. Email.”

“Why would she…?” Eloise’s voice trailed off, and the memory hit her like a slap. Sam’s bitterness, her jealousy. The way she’d always joked about Rowan being “too perfect.” The way she’d swooped in during Eloise’s lowest moments, whispering her own version of events.

“She wanted me to fall apart,” Eloise whispered. “And I did.”

“I think she thought she was protecting you,” Rowan said, though it sounded like he didn’t fully believe it. “Or maybe she just wanted something to control.”

Silence again. Heavy. Electric.

Rowan stepped closer. “I don’t know how to undo what she did. Or what I didn’t. But I know I want to be here now.”

Eloise’s voice was quiet. “And what happens when ‘now’ isn’t enough?”

He looked at her like she was the last page of a book he’d never stopped reading. “Then I’ll keep showing up until it is.”

Something inside her cracked open. It wasn’t forgiveness. Not yet. But it was the beginning of something close.

That night, Eloise sat in her rental cottage, curled up with her laptop and a half-full glass of wine. She opened a new document and stared at the blinking cursor.

Title: The Embrace That Time Forgot

She started typing.

A girl once kissed a boy in a university library and promised to write their love into the stars. Years later, when the words between them had all gone silent, she wondered if the stars had kept their promise even when they hadn’t.

Somewhere in Ashmoor, a boy-turned-man turned the bookstore lights off and locked the door behind him, unaware that the girl he once loved had just written the first line of their story all over again.