Page 24 of Stuck with the Hero Next Door

We stopped beside a narrow bend in the trail, where a trickle of water slipped over rocks and vanished beneath the brush. She crouched to touch a fern, her fingers brushing the damp green edges.

Then she looked up. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What was being a SEAL like?” Her voice was gentle, like she wasn’t sure if the question would land the wrong way.

I shrugged, crouching beside her. “When I joined the SEALs, I had a lot of growing up to do. I was barely out of high school, and the thought of not knowing what was out there pulled at me. However, when I arrived, it was more than the posters indicated. It was a test in endurance, trust, and honesty. It was far more intense than the Boy Scouts. It taught me to keep going when every part of me wants to quit. To be prepared for anything. The SEALs drilled you to be ready no matter what.”

I took a moment to look at the trees around me. Before I joined the SEALs, I was idealistic and dream-driven, but when I came home, everything changed. My ideals became goals, and my dreams became reality. However, the military showed me how by breaking me down to my most basic self and then rebuilding me with the tools and skills to succeed. Cassie needs support right now, not to be broken down and rebuilt. She doesn’t need to know all the details; she just needs to know that nothing is ever set in stone. Everything has possibilities.

“Well,” I tried for lighter, “It was learning how to stay calm when everything around you isn’t. How to trust the guy next to you, even when you’re both scared out of your minds. Boy Scouts taught us to ‘Be Prepared.’ SEALs taught me what that actually means—when it’s dark, loud, and nothing’s going according to plan.”

She smiled a little. “Has that ever come in handy in small town life like Everwood?”

I scanned the quiet woods, then leaned in with a mock-serious whisper. “Yep, it prepared me for bears.” I gave her a side smile. Cassie laughed softly, the sound curling in the air between us. Her shoulders relaxed, the tension loosening enough to make room for something warmer.

She turned back to the fern. “You ever feel like you were prepared for the wrong things?”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “All the time.”

She looked at me again, more searching this time. “So, what do you do with that?”

I paused, the answer simple and complicated all at once. “You find something that feels right. And you stick around long enough to see what it turns into.”

Her expression softened, something unspoken shifting behind her eyes. And in that moment, I knew—if the chance arose, I wouldn’t blink. I was already falling.

Cassie stood, brushing off her jeans with more flair than effectiveness. “So, what exactly are the odds we survive this hike without becoming local legends for all the wrong reasons?”

I straightened, pretending to ponder. “If you count the birdwatching group that got chased by a goose last spring, I’d say we’re doing great.”

She grinned. “Note to self: geese are more aggressive than bears.”

“Oh, absolutely. Bears you can reason with. Geese? Agents of chaos.”

She laughed again, but softer this time, her gaze slipping toward the canopy above us. “I forgot what it felt like out in the wild. The quiet. The openness.”

I nodded, watching her closely. There was something different in her now—less guarded. Like the trail had peeled away a layer she usually kept zipped up tight.

She glanced at me, expression thoughtful. “You really like it here, don’t you?”

“Everwood?” I laughed. “It grows on you. Like moss. Or fondue-related friendships.”

That earned a genuine snort. “Fondue friendships?”

“Long story. Involving a potluck, a faulty extension cord, and the fire chief’s third-degree cheese burns.”

Cassie shook her head, eyes sparkling. “You’re kind of a walking Everwood brochure, you know that?”

“I prefer ambassador. I take bribes in the form of pie.”

She rolled her eyes, but I saw the way her shoulders eased. Less weight. More light.

We stepped over a crooked log bridge someone (probably George from the hardware store) had reinforced with glitter-painted planks. I made a mental note to check the stability later. Cassie paused halfway across, looking out at the creek winding below.

“Everything here feels...intentional,” she said. “Like the town’s been quietly waiting for someone to notice how much heart it has.”

“It has a lot of heart,” I said. “And a suspicious number of seasonal wreaths.”