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When I open the door, Zander is standing on the porch with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. His hair is damp from the mist, and he looks tired, but not the restless kind of tired he’s been carrying lately.

Something about him seems steadier.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

“Can I come in?”

I step aside, and motion for him to come in. I close the door behind him, then turn and wait while he stands there for a second like he’s not quite sure how to begin.

“I signed the tour paperwork today.”

“I’m happy for you.”

Saying it is easier than I expected. I knew he wanted the tour, and that was never the part that scared me. His shoulders loosen a little, and I can tell he’d been braced for a different reaction.

“I wanted to tell you before you heard it from somebody else.”

“I’m glad you did.”

He nods, then finally sits on the edge of the chair across from the couch. I take my usual spot and pull one leg beneath me while he rubs a hand over the back of his neck.

“I talked to my dad today,” he says.

I lift my brows. “And?”

His mouth curves briefly. “It was annoyingly useful.”

I settle back and let him keep going.

“I think I finally understood what you were trying to tell me the other night.” He rubs his palms over his thighs. “I kept asking you how often you could visit and what would happen if things changed because I wanted you to prove we could make this work before I left.”

“That’s what it felt like.”

“I know.” He looks directly at me. “And you couldn’t give me that because I hadn’t even figured out what I was willing to do on my side.”

Some of the tension in my shoulders starts to ease.

He leans back slightly. “Before Europe, I never had to think about any of this. We played local gigs, maybe went out of town for a few shows, but I always came home. Then Europe happened, and even that had a clear ending. Six months and I’d be back.” He pauses. “I think I’ve still been looking at touring that way. I leave, I do the job, I come home, and everything else picks up where I left it.”

“And now?”

“Now I know it might not work that way anymore. If Hollow North keeps growing, there’ll be more tours. Longer stretches away. More decisions about what comes next.” His eyes meet mine. “Now I don’t want to live like everything here is temporary just because I tour.”

I stay quiet, letting him finish.

“Redwood Point is home. Not the place I come back to until Hollow North gets another offer. Home.” He pauses, and I can see him choosing his words carefully. “If we have a real break and I can come back, I come back. If somebody wants to extend a tour or add something that changes plans we’ve already made, I don’t automatically say yes and tell you afterward. We talk about it.”

My throat tightens slightly, and he continues before I can respond.

“And I don’t expect you to follow me around the country so I feel better about being gone. If you want to visit, I want you there. If Black Fern is busy or you can’t get away, then we figure out another time. I don’t want you proving anything to me by rearranging your whole life.”

“That’s good, because I’m officially part owner now.”

His eyes widen. “You signed?”

“Today.”