Evergreen13: You’re going to do great, and he’s going to beg you to stay on.

Phoenix26: I hope you’re right. I’ll message you tonight and let you know how it went. Later, gator.

Evergreen13: After a while, crocodile.

I pushed back from the desk and stood. Making a small detour to the closet, I surveyed my appearance. What the heck did you wear to meet your new boss when your job included pulling weeds and cleaning up chicken poop? I was currently going with my favorite pair of jeans—the kind worn so often they automatically molded to your body—a long-sleeved cotton tee, and a fleece jacket. My boots were worn but not falling apart. And my hair was currently swept back in a braid. Makeup had become a thing of the past long ago. Honestly, it would feel weird to put it on now.

I met my eyes in the mirror. The gold flecks in my hazel eyes seemed to stand out today, almost glowing against the green. “You can do this. Professional. Composed. Every detail handled.”

With one last silent promise to myself, I turned away from my reflection and headed out of my guest house and towards the dock. The scent of the salt in the air and the sound of the water did nothing to help calm my nerves. Anxiety took hold and refused to release.

An old mantra took root in my brain. Feel the fear and do it anyway. I’d seen it on one of those arty quote graphics. No idea who’d said it. But it had stayed with me throughout my recovery and after. I couldn’t change whether or not I was scared or anxious, but I could keep moving forward.

I hopped over a root in the path and kept going. Within a few minutes, I was walking across the dock. I ignored the bench in the middle and opted to pace. The movement was at least an outlet for the energy that my anxiety created.

As I walked back and forth, I kept my eyes trained on the water. It wasn’t long before a medium-sized speedboat peeled away from the main waterway and headed in my direction. I swallowed against the dryness in my throat.

The private water taxi pulled up to the dock, and I helped the driver quickly tie off and then took the single bag of luggage he hefted over the side of the boat. “That’s it.” He turned to the man who was currently pushing to his feet from where he’d been sitting in the co-pilot’s seat. “Enjoy your new home.”

“Thank you. I think I will.”