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He knew it because for so long he had lived without fear that the feeling itself felt stark and unnerving. It followed him when he woke and when he tried to sleep. He was afraid, and he knew exactly why. He’d known for a long time — he just kept finding new excuses to ignore it.

Brutus huffed loudly from the porch near the empty chair. Cal glanced over, sipping his hot chocolate as the bright, crystalline stars spilled their cold light across the fresh snow. The world was silent and silver under the vast Montana sky.

“I know, old friend,” he murmured. “I miss her too.”

Brutus let out a long, dramatic sigh — the unmistakable sound of an animal with strong opinions who wasn’t being consulted — as if to say: Then why don’t you go get her? You’re acting like a silly cub.

Cal’s mouth twitched into a reluctant smile.

“Yeah. I know. But she’s happy. She’s with Mama.”

Brutus yawned and lumbered closer, settling heavily beside the chair Sage usually claimed — the one where they would sit after dinner, or when she couldn’t sleep and came out late. Just existing together in the quiet dark, warm and wordless.

Cal closed his eyes remembering the night a week ago. Same porch. Sage wrapped in his trench coat, looking up at him with those bright blue eyes.

“How come you’re always up, Cal?” she’d asked.

“Habit,” he’d answered.

She had smiled that bright, excited smile he felt all the way down to his toes, kicking her legs absently like she was completely happy and at peace. “Well, I’m lucky then. That means I always know you’ll be around.”

He hadn’t known what to do with that then. He still didn’t.

Cal set the mug down and closed his eyes, rubbing both hands over his face.

He was afraid.

Because Cal Meridian was in love.

Deeply. Completely. Helplessly in love.

And he had no idea what the hell to do about it. Sage was young and beautiful and had already survived more than anyone should. She deserved so much more than the weight of his past, the things he’d done, the blood that would never wash clean.

Dear Lord, he thought, the prayer slipping out like a breath. Help me.

Cal’s mind drifted back to that afternoon when he had gone to the diner.

"Cal!!!"

She’d come flying out the diner door still wearing her waitress apron, moving so fast she was almost a blur — and then she was just there, arms wrapped tight around his waist, face pressed to his chest. The cold knot that had lived in his sternum all morning simply dissolved.

He wrapped his arms around her carefully — always so careful. He felt the eyes on them through the diner windows: Mary Sue, Annie, and Isabelle in varying states of feigned indifference and romantic delight. He ignored them all.

“What are you doing here?” Sage murmured into his chest, voice muffled against his coat.

Cal hesitated, searching for something safe to say. “Brutus… misses you,” he managed.

She pulled back just enough to look up at him, cheeks pink, that knowing little smile tugging at her lips. “Tell Brutus I miss him too. So much.” She closed her eyes and squeezed him tighter. “I think about him when I wake up. And when I go to sleep.”

Cal was absurdly happy and doing a terrible job of hiding it. He was almost certain the Halverson sisters were swooning behind the glass. He ignored them too.

“Sage, honey—” He felt her settle even deeper against him and had the sudden, vivid, completely impractical urge to pick her up, carry her to the truck, and drive her straight home. He cleared his throat. “I wanted to ask you something.”

She looked up at him, curious and open.

“Do you like stuffed animals?”

Sage went completely still in his arms. For a second she even stopped breathing. Cal felt heat crawl up the back of his neck. Through the diner windows, Mary Sue had her hand over her mouth, leaning into Isabelle. He didn’t look at them.