“No,” I agree quietly, messing with the condensation on the outside of my glass. “It wasn’t. I just didn’t want to see it.” I raise my gaze to his and I see such compassion. Such honesty.
So much that I was missing with Derek. When Calder looks at me like that, I feel appreciated. I feel seen. I feel heard. So much I decided I didn’t need before. But I need it.
Calder doesn’t remove his gaze from me, his expression thoughtful. “You know what I think? I think you’re better off.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough.” He leans back in his chair, cradling his coffee mug. “I know you drove across the country alone to make a fresh start, that’s daring to live a different life. I know you didn’t fall apart when your car caught fire— you handled it, that’s not what a lot of people would do. I know you’re sitting herehaving dinner with a stranger instead of hiding in your hotel room feeling sorry for yourself. Those aren’t the actions of someone who needs a man to lead. That’s a woman who is ready to take charge of her life.”
Something warm blooms in my chest, dangerous and bright. “You got all that from a few hours?”
“I’m observant.” His mouth quirks. “Occupational hazard.”
After dinner, Calder builds up the fire while I wash dishes over his numerous and vehement protests. But it’s the least I can do. Bear supervises me from his spot on the rug in front of the oven and Merry is like Velcro to Calder’s leg. It’s like we’ve all lived in the same house for years not hours. Merry has even learned what the bell on the door means. When Bear wants to go outside, he rings it. But I think Merry’s doing it for attention now. Calder thinks it’s cute. I’m not quite sure what I think.
“I forgot to mention,” Calder says, hanging the dish towel to dry after drying the last pan, “we’re doing the station Christmas party tomorrow night, right after the tree lighting. It’s nothing fancy— just the crew and some town folks, pizza and beer, terrible Secret Santa gifts. You should come.”
I turn from the sink, suds still on my hands. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“You wouldn’t be intruding. Besides, you should meet people if you’re going to be stuck here for a few days.” He pauses. “Unless you’d rather not. No pressure.”
But when I look into his eyes, there’s no way I can say no. The thought of spending another evening alone, dwelling on the past and my uncertain future, makes my chest tight. And the thought of seeing Calder again makes my pulse quicken in a way I’m starting to really like.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll come.”
His smile is worth the flutter of anxiety in my stomach. “Good. Fair warning— my crew’s going to grill you about every detail of your life. They’re worse than my sister.”
“Should I be worried?”
“Terrified,” he deadpanned. “Especially of Millie. She’s our boss, and she takes no prisoners. She might rival you for fierceness.”
I like that he thinks I’m fierce. I feel fierce around him. I feel invincible.
We migrate to the couch, Bear immediately claiming the space between us with absolutely no shame. Calder puts on music —something folksy andinstrumental— and we talk about nothing in particular as the fire crackles and the snow falls outside.
At some point, I realize I’m genuinely happy.
Not pretending to be something I’m not.
Not distracting myself with crossword puzzles because he’s playing video games and I need to be quiet.
Not worried about what I say or do or feel.
Just actually content in the moment, in this place, with this man and his ridiculously overbearing dog.
And it scares me.
“I should probably get back,” I say around nine-thirty, even though part of me wants to stay here forever, in this warm bubble where my future feels full of possibilities instead of uncertainty.
“Probably,” Calder agrees, but he doesn’t move immediately. “Thank you for coming, Kendry. I know today was hell for you, and you didn’t have to trust me.”
“Thank you for giving me a reason to.”
It has been a long time since I felt this comfortable and this… calm.
Calder’s eyes meet mine, and for a breathless moment, I think he might kiss me. Part of me desperately wants him to. Part of me is terrified of what it will mean if he does.
But he just stands, offering his hand to help me up, and the moment passes. The disappointment inside of me is huge.
