"Callum, this isperfect!" I exclaim, practically bouncing in my seat. I had wondered where we were going and what this mysterious date setting would be.
The boardwalk date idea flew out of my head as soon as he started driving out of Starling Cove. None of my ideas even came close to this.
"I haven't been to a carnival since... college, I think? And that one was awful. Every ride looked like it was held together by duct tape and hopeful prayers."
"No duct tape, I promise," he laughs, making a cross over his chest. “Let me come around."
My stomach does that annoying little flip at the chivalry, something ingrained into him by his dad. Maybe it's dated in theory, but on Callum? It feels like genuine care.
Also, his truck is big, so it is nice to have some assistance. He opens the door and holds out his hand for mine. I smile at the warmth as he helps me down with effortless ease. The wind cuts a little sharper, so I tug my fleece-lined coat tighter around me and stare at the sight before me.
The carnival stretches out before us across the sprawling field ofThirteen Elms Farm, just a thirty-minute drive from Starling Cove, but it feels like we've stepped into another world. A Ferris wheel spins, its bright lights casting a kaleidoscope of colors against the darkening sky.
There's a spinning teacup ride that will no doubt make me dizzy enough to test the anti-nausea meds, so I cross that out with an absolute no. There are bumper cars and little baby roller coasters for the kids, endless game booths and food stands, the latter the source of the delicious aroma in the air.
The neon lights draw me in like a moth to a flame, and I’mpractically dragging Callum toward the entrance.
"They do this every weekend from now until Halloween," Callum explains, his voice low, but still audible to me over the rising hum of music and laughter. This place pulses with energy, and I feel a giddiness inside that I haven't felt in a long time, maybe ever.
When I glance toward Callum, my breath catches. The warm glow of the carnival lights flickers over his handsome face, and for a moment, he doesn't even look real. The angle of his bearded jaw, the soft glint in his warm eyes, and the way his dark hair curls slightly at his forehead.
God, he looks likeart.A piece so beautiful it makes you ache and want to cry.
There's a wistful expression on his face, the same one Maeve gets sometimes.
"I haven't been here in a long time," he says, meeting my eyes with a small smile that looks a little sad.
"Really?"
"Yeah, not since my dad died. My parents and I used to pick pumpkins here every year. We'd carve them into jack-o-lanterns, put them out in front of the house, and then watch scary movies." Callum laughs lightly, shaking his head in amusement. "My dad would pretend not to be scared, that he didn't absolutely hate horror movies. He was atotalchicken about them."
"No way," I laugh, and Callum's smile brightens at it. From the family pictures Maeve has shown me—adorable Callum as a baby and child, a younger, still beautiful Maeve, and Mr. Rhodes looking proud as anything to stand next to his family—it's so hard to picture that solid-looking man scared of anything.
"Swear to God," he says, laugh rumbling from his chest like thunder. "He'd wrap his arms around my mom, telling us it was becauseshewas scared, but she and I both knew he was theone who needed comforting. He'd jump at every loud noise and pretend he didn't."
"So, he was just a big teddy bear," I tease, poking Callum in his side, pointedly ignoring how solid he feels under his red flannel coat. "Just like you."
"Yeah, he was soft as a marshmallow," Callum nods, meeting my eyes with a more serious look, his voice softer now. "I think he'd like you, Sophie."
It feels as if something has shifted or cracked open inside my chest, my emotions rising up and threatening to spill out uncontrollably. I have to bite down hard on the inside of my cheek to push back the sting of tears threatening to fall. If I cry right now, I won't stop.
The way Callum and Maeve talk about Mr. Rhodes always gets me, with a deep, unwavering love that's as sure as saying the sky is blue and the grass is green. It's so unfair—so cruel—that the universe took him from them so early. The heart attack was so abrupt that they didn't get to brace, to say goodbye, to prepare for it properly. One day, he was here, the next, he was gone for good.
That thought pierces me, sharp and cold, like ice water has replaced all the blood in my body.
Losing Mr. Rhodes decimated them. Maeve still honors him every night by watching the sunset and meditating, as if she can conjure him by her side during that sacred time.
And Callum—my sweet, gentle giant—always talks about him fondly, with reverence and worship, like a kid talking about their favorite superhero. William Rhodes was made of strength and steel and pure love. They make him feel like he's still alive, talking about him in the present tense like he'll walk through the door ofRivers & Rhodesany minute.
There’s joy and love when they talk of him, but also thisbone-deep griefthat’s painful to hear.
I've never lost anyone like that, I've never had someone close to me like that pass away. Someone whose absence takes up as much space as their presence did. I don't have the experience to understand their grief. I can empathize and try to place myself in their shoes, but I still can't know exactly how they're feeling.
And it's been ten years for them.
Am I just setting them up for more grief?
Am I infiltrating their lives and making them care about me when this could just be a countdown to me leaving?
