This book won the 2025 Colorado Book Award for Romance.
Author’s note: Here we join a scene from a town hall meeting in Devon Falls, Vermont, where Dr. Sam Evers is forced to think about what it means to let go of the past he’s lost and move forward into the future.
“I still don’t understand,” I tell Jack as I follow him through the throng of Devon Falls residents and into the town hall. “The entire town of Devon Falls gathers for a meeting once a week?”
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“It’s not always that often,” Benson says from the other side of Jack. He points to a set of three chairs available in the corner and guides us over to them. “But sometimes it’s more often if there’s an issue the town can’t agree on. Like the time no one could decide if we should go with neon Easter decor in the town square and everyone kept bringing in new samples.”
“I bowed out of that conversation after the third meeting,” Jack says. “I hadn’t seen that much hot pink in one place since my mother used to host eighties nights at our house.” He sits down as Benson drops into the seat next to him. “You get used to them,” Benson says as I dust off the seat next to him with a tissue and then sit down myself. “Or at least you do until every single one of them is about your wedding.”
“Henri promised that this meeting isn’t about our wedding,” Jack reminds him. “It’s about the entire leaf festival.”
“Which means a fourth of it will be about our wedding. Are you sure we can’t elope? I was thinking of maybe a nice coastal region in Italy. You like pasta.”
Jack grins and leans over to kiss his cheek. “Babe, if I thought for one second that you didn’t really want to get married here, you know I’d have already canceled this whole thing.”
Benson mumbles something under his breath about Devon Falls brainwashing them both, and I sit back while I study the way the two of them slowly nudge closer to one another on their chairs. How did I never notice that Christian and I never once nudged toward one another like that, sliding our hands together as though we couldn’t possibly live without skin-to-skin contact?
Jack clears his throat. “So, Sam,” he says. “Mom and I thought one of us should talk to you about, well, your living situation.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You mean the fact that our office manager is currently residing in my guest room,” I say evenly.
“Yup, that,” Benson says. He reaches down into the satchel at his feet and pulls out a small stack of papers. “You should sign this.”
“What on earth is this?”
“Just a disclaimer that if you and Malachai enter into a relationship of any kind that you’ll alert Jack and Marie,” Benson says evenly.
“Forbidden in the Falls”
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It never ceases to amaze me how Benson manages to have his hands in almost every single operating business in Devon Falls. That’s what happens, I suppose, when your town only has two lawyers. I shake my head as I wave at the papers. “There’s no need for me or Malachai to sign anything,” I tell them quickly. “Malachai and I will not be entering into any kind of relationship. I would never allow that to happen.”
Benson snorts. “Just because you’ve basically become a robot since you got here doesn’t mean you’re actually made out of metal,” he says. “And let’s be honest, right now your house is one giant boning waiting to happen.”
I sit upright in my chair. “Excuse me?” I ask carefully. I thought I had done a fairly strong job of keeping my attractions to myself. Have Jack and Benson noticed my feelings for Malachai? An icy sensation begins to spread through my extremities.
Jack sends Benson one of those quick, coded glances they so like to share before he looks at me. “Sam,” he says, “this paperwork is about our concerns that Malachai has feelings for you. He’s clearly in a vulnerable spot right now.”
“I would never do anything to take advantage of him.” I bark the words more than say them, and Jack holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“I know that,” he says. “Everyone in our office knows that. It’s just… listen, Sam. If you were interested in Malachai, that would be okay. You know that, right?”
“Technically it does create some further paperwork, from an HR perspective,” Benson says. Jack sends him a narrowed look that’s far less coded. “But hey, what’s a little more paperwork?” he adds quickly. “Billable hours are my best friend.”
“It would certainly not be okay. Malachai works for us. Not to mention that—”
I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence. As far as I know, Jack has no idea that I’ve been questioning my feelings for Christian ever since his death. I don’t exactly feel like starting that conversation in the middle of a large and very crowded room.
Jack sighs. “I know this is a tough subject for you, Sam. Believe me when I say that I’d rather swim in the Rykers’ cow pond than make you keep talking about this, and you know how seriously I take the potential dangers of swimming in standing water. But we have to discuss this. Christian’s been gone for a long time now, and you’re still not moving on. You don’t date. You barely talk to anyone besides us and Milo. You’re insisting on moving back to New York to live in that giant echo chamber of an apartment once our wedding is over. You can’t be a monk for the rest of your life, okay? Milo and I are worried about you.”
I close my eyes against the push of pain building between my temples. I’m contemplating making a complete escape from this conversation by mentioning the headache that’s currently building in my skull, but a smack of a gavel at the front of the town hall grabs my attention first.
“Okay, folks! Time to get started!” Amelia appears at the lectern at the front of the room, and I’ve never been so excited to see hair the color of an Easter egg basket. I sink back down into my chair, only because leaving the room would attract a great deal of attention right now. “Listen, I called this meeting because the town’s moving up manure creek and we need your help.”
Henri Fontaine, who once ran the office at Lancer Family Medicine before she trained Malachai to take over and then retired, rolls her eyes as she steps in front of Amelia at the lectern. Her brown braids with their graying ends sway behind her head, brushing up against her dark brown skin. “Let’s not be melodramatic,” she tells Amelia. “But here’s the scoop, friends. As you all know, I’ve been in charge of managing the festival for years now. I love this town and I love this festival. But Harry and I have some exciting news: our daughter in California is having a baby!” Everyone in the room bursts into applause, and Henri curtsies slightly.
“Thanks, loves. We couldn’t be more thrilled. The downside to this wonderful news is that the pregnancy has had some rough patches, and Melody’s on bed rest. She’s asked me to come out to California to help her out, and of course I can’t say no. Which means that we need to hire someone to take care of managing the rest of the town’s leaf festival.”
A small gasp runs through the room. “But no one can replace you, Hen!” Burt Busby calls out.
“Thanks, Burt.” Henri nods in his direction. “But listen, most of the hard work is done at this point. Everything is all planned out, including the Lewis-Lancer wedding.”
Benson makes a choked noise as the entire room turns to look at him and Jack. A smattering of people applaud.
“And now the job’s really just about keeping the train on the tracks. Not a ton of hours of work each week, I don’t think, mostly just managing some lead-up events here and there, and then coordinating things through the festival itself. The job pays a stipend, so the person wouldn’t be working for free, and—”
“I’ll do it!”
The entire room seems to turn again as a voice I know all too well sounds from the back row of chairs.
Malachai’s standing there, his face flushed and his arms crossed in front of him. He takes a long gulp of air, and my heart clenches at the nervous expression on his face. It’s clearly costing him a great deal to make this announcement in front of such a large group, to put himself out there in front of the town like this, and yet he does it anyway.
Emotions that seem to linger in the area of pride swirl within me. The urge to protect Malachai from anyone who might make this moment difficult for him has me nearly jumping from my seat.
Henri beams. This entire town knows she adores Malachai, her protege at our office, and my nerves relax for a moment. Certainly there’s no danger to Malachai’s ego here. “Wonderful! Malachai, you’re the perfect choice. Everyone, looks like our problem is solved! Sweetie, let’s meet tomorrow morning and we can—”
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
A man with black hair cut into an absurd bowl cut and pale skin perfectly at odds with said hair shouts loudly from the other side of the room, and immediately I see Malachai sink into himself.
My nerves stand on edge again.
“Who is that?” I ask—okay, I possibly growl the words—Jack and Benson.
Benson looks slightly murderous. “Avon Loseff.” He and Jack share one of their patented looks. “This isn’t good,” Benson adds.
I clutch the edge of my seat and will myself not to stand. I can’t step in for Malachai here. Such an action would go against all the promises I’ve made to myself.
If only he wasn’t lowering himself back toward his chair right now, his face reddening, as though he wishes to disappear into the floor.
“Avon,” Henri says cooly, “Malachai’s an excellent choice. I’ve worked with him before, and I know I can easily train him before I leave.”
“He’s a criminal.” Avon nearly sneers the words, and whispered gasps run through the crowd in the hall. “A lot of money goes through that festival. We can’t trust him.”
A heat is running through my blood now—a kind of heat I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before, not even in the most frantic, panicked moments of my early days as a doctor, working hard rotations in emergency departments. A kind of heat I don’t remember ever feeling on behalf of anyone before, but there’s no time to think of that right now. Despite the fact that both Jack and Benson look as though they’re on the verge of intervening in this disaster of a meeting, I’m on my feet before I can second-guess myself. “He’s not a criminal,” I bark out. “He’s a hard worker, a good soul, and this town would be incredibly lucky to have him managing your festival.” I cross my own arms and ensure that the glare I’ve carefully fixed on this Avon Loseff character lands squarely and surely.
He just tilts his lip in derision. I’m not generally a violent man, but I find myself wondering how many ways I could take him in a physical fight.
“Easy for you to say, you’re not even from there.” Avon-Terrible-Bowl-Cut scoffs. He tosses his head in Malachai’s direction. “Listen, kid, this is nothing personal. But you’ve proven that we can’t trust you. And everyone here knows it, even if they don’t want to say it.”
Murmurs move through the crowd around me, and it’s now the heat that’s been building in my blood suddenly reaches a rolling boil. Jack opens his mouth to say something, but once again I beat him to it. “I’ll vouch for him,” I bark out. Loudly.
The crowd goes silent, and in my peripheral vision I see Malachai’s eyes go very wide. I can’t look directly at him right now, and instead I keep my eyes fixed on Avon.
“What?” I can’t tell if Avon’s response is outraged or incredulous, and frankly I don’t care.
“I’ll vouch for him. If any funds go missing or anything else goes awry, I’ll take responsibility. I’ll even help with overseeing the upcoming festival activities if that will put your mind at ease. I’m only working at the medical practice part-time right now, so I can support Malachai with the extra hours in my day. I’m quite certain he doesn’t need my supervision or my backing, but I’ll provide it if that’s what you want.” My fists are curling in on each other as I imagine the many more hours of time with Malachai I’ve possibly just added to my schedule. What on earth am I doing? I’m starting to worry that Jack’s father might be putting some of the herbs from the “special” section of his garden into the tomato sauce he sends me every week.
But I could never stop what I’ve started now. Malachai’s looking at me with an expression that’s something akin to awe, and the way that look spreads more heat through my body is, well—
That feeling is as utterly addicting as Malachai himself, I’m sure of that.
“Wonderful!” says Henri. “I think we’ve got our solution, folks! Now, I’m sure that…”
Avon glares and Henri gushes on about what a wonderful team she’s certain Malachai and I will make. But I hardly notice either of them. All my attention now is on one person in the corner of the room, whose expression remains possibly awe-filled. Or maybe he’s confused? Distraught? I can’t begin to unwind or fully understand the look on Malachai’s face at the moment.
But I do know this is likely the worst decision I’ve made since the day I chose not to attend Christian’s pool party. And yet, if time were turned back right now, I can say with all certainty I’d make the exact same decision I just made; I’d stand up and offer my help to Malachai over and over again.
Malachai needed me today. And it’s becoming increasingly clear to me that any ounce of willpower I ever possessed trickles farther from my grasp with every moment I spend with him.
J.E. Birk, also known as Johanna Parkhurst, writes LGBTQ+ fiction and romance. She is a long-time lover of all types of genre fiction, and serves as director of the MA/MFA Genre Fiction program at Western Colorado University. Raised in Vermont, she now lives in Colorado and enjoys paddleboarding, skiing, and traveling.
