Page 25 of Stuck with the Hero Next Door

She laughed again, the sound catching on the wind.

And just like that, it hit me again—how easy she was to be around when she wasn’t bracing herself. How she made everything feel lighter, even while talking about heavy things. I wanted to keep her safe and laughing and maybe even convince her that she didn’t have to carry her mom’s dreams like a backpack full of rocks.

She stepped off the bridge, brushing a leaf from her sleeve. “I didn’t think anyone here would get it. How hard it is to admit that maybe you want something different than what people expect from you.”

I shrugged. “Everyone here is doing something they never planned. No one grows up dreaming of becoming the unofficial raccoon wrangler or the guy who refills the soda machine at the gas station with surgical precision.”

“That specific again.”

“Everwood’s full of surprises.”

She looked at me then, something unreadable flickering across her face. Was it the start of letting go?

And that? That felt like a bigger victory than making it out without seeing a bear.

We came around the last bend in the trail just as the late sun slipped through the trees, throwing gold across the gravel like nature’s confetti. Cassie squinted ahead, then slowed.

“There’s your truck,” she said, sounding vaguely disappointed. “And there goes my excuse for hiking with a human bear alarm.”

I smiled. “Technically, I’m more of a bear deterrent. Low growling and high preparedness.”

She stopped beside me, the breeze lifting a strand of hair across her cheek. “Thanks for walking me back. I know you didn’t have to.”

“Maybe not,” I said. “But I wanted to.”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she looked out at the parking lot, where the bakery’s delivery van was parked haphazardly, its driver—Mrs. Wilkes—having paused mid-exit to chat with someone holding a basket of what I could only assume were emergency muffins.

Cassie chuckled. “This town is seriously allergic to doing things halfway.”

“That’s Everwood,” I said. “Full throttle on friendliness, baked goods, and unsolicited advice.”

She looked at me then, head tilted, something thoughtful behind her smile. “It’s kind of...annoying.”

“Annoying?”

Her smile softened. “The way this place sneaks up on you. How the people make you feel like maybe you’ve been missing something you didn’t even know you wanted.”

I didn’t say anything. Didn’t trust myself to, not with her standing there looking at me like that. Like I wasn’t just Levi, the part-time logger/volunteer fireman/fence-post fixer, but someone worth seeing.

She handed me back the bear spray, fingers brushing mine. “I’ll bring my own next time.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Cassie narrowed her eyes. “Are you calling me unprepared?”

“I’m saying if I see you out here again without it, I’m going to launch into a dramatic monologue about wildlife safety. There might be props.”

She laughed again, a light, easy sound that made something settle in my chest. “Noted. Avoid the lecture, bring the spray.”

She started toward Janet’s car, but halfway there, she paused and glanced back. “You know,” she said, voice softer now, “if I end up staying here longer than I planned...it won’t be just because of my broken-down Ford.”

I held her gaze. “Good. I hope I’m a part of the new story.”

She nodded a full smile shining back at me, then opened the car door and slid in. I stood there like a fool, watching as she started the engine and reversed carefully, giving a little wave before disappearing down the gravel drive.

The wind rustled the trees behind me, and I swear, the silence felt different now.

I turned back to the trail, boots crunching softly on stone.