Leah was carving again under the tree, her hands covered in wood dust, when she saw Hailey walking by looking a little distracted, and without really thinking, Leah said, “Hey, could you ask Sage if she wants to go to dinner with me sometime?” Hailey stopped instantly, brows raised, and said, “Why me?” Leah shrugged and replied, “I don’t know, you talk to her more. I just thought it'd be weird if I came out of nowhere and asked myself.” Hailey rolled her eyes, but her stomach did something small and annoying, and she muttered, “Fine, whatever, I’ll ask later.” She didn’t know why that sentence felt so heavy, but it did. Sage was by the lake feeding crumbs to a bird when she looked up and saw Hailey standing there, looking like she regretted coming but was committed anyway, and Hailey said, “Hey, so Leah wants to know if you want to grab dinner sometime or something, I don’t know.” Sage blushed just a little and said, “Oh, uh, sure, sounds good. Is she okay?” and Hailey crossed her arms and said, “She’s fine, just too shy to say it. She actually likes you, apparently.” Sage blinked a few times, then smiled slow and soft, like someone who just heard their favorite song in the distance, and said, “Thanks for telling me,” and Hailey shrugged, trying to look bored but her heart was weirdly loud. Sage watched her go, thinking about how this town keeps surprising her, how one dinner invite can feel like a ripple in a still pond, and how maybe, just maybe, she was ready to say yes to more than vegetables and spring flowers. And Leah sat back against the tree, staring at the clouds, not knowing what Hailey said or if Sage would come, but hoping—and hoping was new for her—but this time it felt okay.