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“You can stay here until they come back,” he clips. I can tell he’s really mad.
Having someone care about my comfort and safety is a foreign feeling, yet it’s…nice. I’m not sure what to do with this feeling, but it does make me feel warm and loved.
“Thanks.” It’s been lonely at home by myself. But I didn’t want to tell them that. It’s just been easier to stay here after school and only go home when it’s time to sleep.
He nods and reaches into the fridge, pulls out a beer, and pops the lid off, shaking his head.
I sit and eat quietly and watch as these big bikers have created a family-like environment that is more of a safe space than my own family. They’ve accepted me as one of them. I look over at SJ, and he smiles at me, his warm brown eyes reassuring me.
It’s not lost on me that these bikers are all members of the local motorcycle club, and they sometimes make questionable choices. I don’t pay attention to club business, and they’ve been nice around me. My parents have ranted about them and made it known that they don’t approve of SJ or Sam. They think they’re all trash and have told me as much any time it comes up. Yet here they are, looking out for me, feeding me, and keeping me safe. My parents would freak out if they knew I was here with them as much as I am. This house may be unconventional since Sam and SJ live above the shop and are surrounded by a motorcycle club, but they’re a family. SJ is safe and loved here. At my house, I’m not loved or safe. I’m alone most of the time. My house is volatile, and I’d rather be lonely than have the nights when my parents fight with drunk rage and keep me up.
now
Let’s try this again, I think as I put my phone in do-not-disturb mode and get ready for my hike. If Thad or the hospital calls, they won’t reach me. I’m not on call because I’m not a permanent employee. They need to give me a full-time contract if they want me on call. Today is mine. I won’t be taking a shift. I’m unavailable. I’m taking Goldie’s advice and doing something fun for me.
One of my favorite trails on the outskirts of town is perfect today. The weather feels warm, and a hike to clear my mind and figure out everything that’s happening sounds like just what I need. It’s quiet out here, and all the tourists who come to look at the foliage are out on the main highway while I have my spot to myself. I even brought a book with me and might even read.
This is where I used to come with SJ. It’s where we fell in love on countless hikes and picnics. I haven’t been out here since I’ve been back, but it’s time. This isn’t just a place of memories with him anymore. It’s mine now, I’ve decided, and I’m going to make new memories here. That’s what I tell myself anyway.
The wildflowers are dying down, and the trees are all popping with stunning, vibrant colors that are almost too pretty. I’m so glad I’m back here, and this alone was worth moving back. Our lookout is just a few miles out of town but not known by too many people, and it is one of my favorite places. The autumn sun beams down on me, warming my face.
I’ve always loved all things about autumn. I’ll admit that I sometimes left fall decor out year-round in my college apartment. It reminded me of my home in Freedom Valley. We have the best fall season here. The weather, all the pumpkin-flavored treats, festivals, and spooky décor—I love it all. This is all part of why I came back here to settle in and start a new life. I missed it here.
I tighten the laces on my boots and take off on a path you’d have to know to look for that’s rough and not defined. Fall is showing off right now, and the foliage is beautiful. I couldn’t have picked a better day to come out here. This is my place of peace. Just coming out here and staring at all the stunning colors—especially this time of year—makes me so happy. About a mile into my hike, I stumble across a new clearing where someone has built a gorgeous cabin. It has a perfect rustic wooden deck off it with outdoor seating to die for and a huge stone firepit. I hang back so as not to trespass or bother the people living here. Longing fills me because this was my favorite spot, and I dreamed of building my dream home here once upon a time with SJ. And it looks like someone has beat me to it and built my dream home down to every detail. A firepit with four white Adirondack chairs around it. A chimney with smoke curling out of it. The smoky smell makes me close my eyes and inhale the crisp autumn breeze. I hear a crunch of leaves and look over to see a shirtless SJ standing in jeans, holding an axe.
“Jesus, SJ, what are you doing out here?” I yell, surprised to see him. He scared the hell out of me. His skin is still tanned from the summer sun, and holy crap, he has even more tattoos snaking across his chest. Beads of sweat cross his face. Wood chunks are in a pile next to him, and he has a big stump with a piece of wood lying on it that he’s chopping.
He looks equally surprised to see me. Relaxing the axe over his shoulder, he tilts his head and grins. “I could ask you the same. Miss me?”
“No,” I scoff. “I’m on a hike. And where are your clothes?” I look away but not because I want to. It’s because I can’t stop staring at his massive chest and gorgeous pecs. Why does he have to be so good looking? It’s not fair to waste good looks on such a jerk.
“Inside.” He nods toward the cabin I was just drooling over.
My mouth hangs open. “Youlive here?Here?No way.”
This was our place, and he comes back here and builds our dream cabin? I see he’s been busy in the past year since he’s been back. I suddenly realize that I don’t know anything about him. Nothing. My head is spinning. My chest feels heavy. He built this without me.
He doesn’t say anything, but his mouth turns up, and he goes back to cutting the wood. After positioning the wood on the stump, he steps back, picks up the axe, and smashes it down onto the stump, splintering the piece.
He doesn’t say a word to me, but he glances at me curiously between chopping.
His body is tanned, chiseled, filled out, and lean. That kind of body doesn’t come from the gym. It comes from chopping wood, lifting heavy things at the shop, and probably building that stupid cabin that was supposed to be mine. Grown-up SJ is not the cute high school boy anymore. He’s all manly man muscle. There’s a darker, unnerving energy about him now. He’s not the cute, affable kid I once knew. This man has secrets. He has small lines fanning out at his eyes. A crease mars his brow from overthinking and brooding. He’s taller, more solid, a canvas of tattoo art and a dark happy trail leading down into those jeans. I don’t move and watch him repeatedly cut more wood. He stops to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “Want to take a picture?” He smirks.
“Dickhead,” I clip, narrowing my eyes.
“You’re the one watchingme.” He chuckles with a grin as he looks me over from head to toe, slowly. My body warms at his perusal.
“You’re the creepy one in the woods with serial killer energy,” I push back.
At that, he laughs and leans against the axe. “I’ve missed you.”
“You had twelve years to find me,” I retort.
“I found you now.”
“Too late.”
His face falls. “Don’t say that, Callie.”
