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“Then, we’re good, right?” She rose to her feet with a bright smile. “I just remembered I forgot to turn the oven off after I took out the cookies.”
She practically ran out of the room, leaving Caleb with a sense that something wasn’t right. He started after her, his stocking feet making no sound on the wood flooring and abruptly stopped when he reached the kitchen. There was no sign of Lucy and the oven had been off for a while.
He was just about to head to the back door when he heard a stifled sniff from the pantry. The door was ajar, but he didn’t need to go in to realize Lucy was crying. The sound hit him hard in the gut. Was she crying over him? He didn’t deserve that. He turned around and went quietly back to his bedroom. She didn’t need to know he’d overheard her. But he hated seeing his sunny-natured friend upset.
Friend? Who was he trying to kid? It waskillinghim. For some reason she loved and believed in him and, like everything else in his life, he was incapable of reciprocating because he was an unemotional jerk.
Just like his dad . . . He sat on the bed and took a deep shuddering breath, his gaze straying to the darkness outside. There were no lights on the hillside in front of him. The silence was a living, breathing thing, quite unlike the city he’d reluctantly learned to call home. He’d never told his parents how hard it had been to get used to the noise and the constant flow of people. He’d never told them much at all. He’d been too worried his dad would demand he stop wasting his money and return home, or that his mom would be disappointed in him.
He’d kept everything inside and focused on being exceptional, so that no one would ever say he hadn’t made the best of every opportunity he’d been offered. And what had it got him? Money, most of which he’d plowed straight back into his company, an enviable work ethic that was slowly eating away at his soul, and a team who loved and feared him in equal measures.
The door opened and Lucy came back in, her eyes suspiciously red.
“Sorry about that. I was just checking the weather reports. It looks like there’s more snow on the way.”
“I had a text from the Rosbergs.” Caleb played his part because what else could he do? “Everything’s fine at the B&B except Colin has basically moved into their house and is refusing to budge from in front of the fire.”
She laughed, and something inside him solidified into a certainty, making everything else irrelevant.
“I told Dad I’d do the last check of the barn.” Caleb rose to his feet. “It won’t take long.”
She hesitated. “I might take a bath and then go to bed, if that’s okay?”
He kissed the top of her head. “Do whatever makes you happy.”
“I’ve been doing that ever since you arrived, Caleb Erickson.”
It was his turn to chuckle as he headed for the door. “Don’t fall asleep too fast, okay?”
“I’ll try not to.”
He walked through the silent kitchen to the mudroom and put on his boots, fleece-lined jacket, and dented old Stetson. Five minutes after arriving at Stanford he’d ditched his hat and cowboy boots because he couldn’t deal with the jokes. Everything still fit him fine. It was like returning to his old self—to the boy who’d changed into something else entirely and lost something indefinable along the way.
He let himself out and stood on the porch, staring up at the ink-black night sky and the brightness of the stars. It was too cold to stand around for long. He walked down the well-salted path to the barn, flicked on the lights, and started checking in on the horses.
“Evening, son.”
He almost had heart failure when his father appeared from the feed store.
“Did you think I’d forget to come out here?” Caleb asked.
“Nope, you’ve always been a man of his word.” His dad paused. “I came out here to think.”
“It’s a good place to do that,” Caleb agreed. “I’ve had a bit of thinking to do myself this year.”
“About your work?”
“Yeah, about that and other things.” Caleb glanced at his father, whose face remained in the shadows. “I’ve always loved it out here at night.”
“You used to shimmy down that overflow pipe and scare your mother half to death, disappearing into the night,” Isaiah said. “I told her you’d be fine, and I was always right.”
“You knew about that?”
Isaiah snorted. “You were about as quiet as a baby elephant on that roof, son. Hard to miss.”
“Why didn’t you stop me?”
“Why would I? I knew you’d be safe on your own land, and that you were smart enough to make it back.”
