"Why didn't you?" I asked. "Just ask, I mean. From the start."
He was quiet for a moment. "Didn't think you'd say yes. You seemed like you had everything figured out. The clinic, your life... Didn't seem like there was room."
"There wasn't," I said honestly. "I wasn't really looking for anyone."
"What changed?"
I thought about him standing in my exam room with that box of abandoned puppies, asking for nothing. The Saturdays after, how he kept showing up without making it mean something. And I thought about this house, all the patient work he'd put into saving something everyone else would've torn down.
"You didn't need me to be anything," I said finally.
He looked at me, giving me nothing but silence.
"I dated over the years," he finally said. "Nothing serious. People always wanted me different. More talkative, or more outgoing. Less focused on work, you know?"
"Caleb—"
"I'm not good at pretending to be something I'm not. Can't do it." He gestured vaguely, frustrated with words. "My grandmother used to tell me… the right person won't ask you to change. They'll just fit."
I had to swallow hard. "She sounds like she was smart."
"She really was." He looked around at the house, the firelight on old wood. "But I stopped believing her after a while. Thought that kind of thing was just something people said."
"What changed?" I echoed.
He held my gaze. "You showed up. And you didn't ask me to be different. You just…" He stopped, as if searching for the right words. "You fit."
Just for a beat, time slowed, and I couldn't breathe. Couldn't even speak. I just stared at him across the firelight.
"I'm not good with words," he said. "Never have been. But I need to say this."
I nodded, quiet and careful, as if afraid I’d break the moment.
"I'd see you around town before all this. Hardware store. Diner. And I'd think… she's so far out of my league it's not even funny."
"That's not?—"
"Let me finish." His voice was tender-rough, like calloused hands on soft skin. "That day with the puppies… something about you just stuck with me. You were kind, good at what you do. And then… I just kept coming back because I didn’t know what else to do. Kept finding excuses because I didn't know how else to see you. But I needed to see you, that much I knew."
I couldn't find the words. Instead, I just looked at him in the firelight, this man who'd circled me for weeks, too careful to push.
"I wasn't looking for this," I said, my voice shaky. "I didn't want to want anyone."
"I know."
"But I do now." I moved closer. "I want this. I… I want you."
He reached out, cupped my face with one hand. His palm was rough against my skin, warm from the fire, and his thumb brushed my cheekbone.
"I'm falling in love with you," he said. "Probably already there."
My heart stopped.
"Wanted you to know," he continued. "In case you needed to run."
I didn't run. Instead, I kissed him.
His hand slid into my hair. My hands found his shoulders, his neck, the rough fabric of his shirt. The fire was warm at my back and the rain was pouring outside and nothing in the world existed except his mouth on mine and his hand in my hair and the way he held me like I was something precious.
