Caleb swallowed.
“It’s not too late,” he said gently.
She hesitated. Just long enough.
“I don’t know. It’s still hard to let go,” she said finally. “The understanding that no one is going to catch me if I fall keeps me on track.”
The words were simple. Plain. But they tore through him all the same.
His bear surged, fierce and aching all at once.We would catch her. Every time.
Caleb closed his eyes briefly, the image rising unbidden. A small girl at the edge of a stream, unsure whether she was allowed to step closer. Watching other children laugh and splash while she stood back, hands clenched, already learning how to hold herself together.
He wanted—goodness, he wanted—to reach across time and pull her into his arms. To tell her it was safe to fall. Safe to play. Safe to be held.
When he opened his eyes, Hannah was watching him, something cautious flickering in her expression, as if she’d revealed more than she’d intended.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I didn’t mean to... overshare.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” Caleb interrupted gently. “Not for this. Not ever.”
She studied his face, searching for something. Pity, maybe. Discomfort. Instead, she found a man who didn’t flinch from what she’d shared. Who never would.
“That wasn’t easy to say,” she admitted.
“I can only imagine.”
It was true; Caleb could only imagine what her life was like with no family to fall back on. It was something he’d always taken for granted.
And to share it with a relative stranger... that took courage.
She exhaled slowly, as if setting down something she’d been carrying for a long time. “I guess... being here makes it feel different. Like maybe there’s another way. Like I don’t have to fight so hard for everything.”
Caleb turned fully toward her then, the movement deliberate. “You don’t.”
Her breath caught at the certainty in his voice.
His bear pressed close, unwavering.She will never have to fight for our love.
No. It’s already freely given.Caleb didn’t say the words aloud. Not yet. But he let them bloom and grow in his chest, solid and unmovable. Unshakable. Like the mountains around them.
They sat there together, feet numb from the cold, shoulders touching, the stream flowing around them. Above them, leaves rustled in the breeze. Somewhere nearby, a bird took flight.
Hannah leaned into him just a fraction more; it felt deliberate, not accidental.
And Caleb stayed exactly where he was.
Ready for whatever she needed next.
And what came next was a splash in the face.
Caleb gasped as Hannah flicked water at him with a laugh that bubbled up spontaneously, her eyes shining with mischief.
The way they should have when she was a child — bright and unburdened.
“Sorry,” she said, not looking sorry at all. “I couldn’t help myself.”
Caleb blinked water from his eyes, momentarily stunned by the sudden playfulness. Then he grinned, slow and dangerous.
