Hannah’s heart sank, even though she’d known this moment was coming, that he would leave.
He had somewhere to be. People who needed him. Obligations to fulfill.
His world hadn’t stopped simply because hers had tilted.
“The restaurant?” she asked.
He nodded. “Evening prep. I should head out soon.”
“Of course.” She pulled away from him and stood up. “You should go.”
Caleb stood, hesitating for a moment as if he didn’t quite want to break the spell either.
They stood there, close in the lamplight, the fire crackling softly behind them. Hannah became acutely aware of the space between their bodies. Of how easy it would be to close it. Of how much she wanted to.
Caleb looked at her then, really looked at her, his gaze dropping briefly to her mouth before returning to her eyes. Something unspoken passed between them—want, restraint, the knowledge that this wasn’t the right moment, even if it felt like it could be.
“I’ll be back later,” he said, then quickly added, “Not that I expect you to wait up.”
She nodded, though the idea of going to bed while he was gone felt wrong somehow. Incomplete. Like their conversation.
“Drive safely,” she said.
He smiled, soft and a little regretful. “I always do.”
He took a step away and then paused, turning back to her. For a heartbeat, Hannah thought—hoped—he might close the distance after all.
Instead, he lifted a hand and brushed his knuckles lightly along her cheek; the touch was enough to steal her breath.
“Goodnight, Hannah.”
“Goodnight, Caleb.”
Then he crossed the room and was gone, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
The silence that followed was different from before. Not empty. Just... quiet in a way that made her acutely aware of herself. Of everything she was feeling.
Hannah stood there for a long moment, listening to the sound of his truck starting up, the crunch of gravel as he pulled away. When the noise finally faded, she exhaled slowly. He was gone. She was alone.
Feeling numb, she moved back to the sofa and curled up beneath the blanket, staring into the fire. The warmth pressed in around her, comforting her body, but her thoughts were restless, circling back to the day she’d just lived.
The vineyard. The stream. The laughter. The certainty in Caleb’s voice when he said they could come back.
No one had ever spoken like that about her before. As if she were already woven into the future, rather than passing briefly through it.
Her eyes grew heavy as the logs crackled and popped. When she opened them again, the logs were nothing but embers.
She should go to bed. She knew that. She was tired in a way that went deeper than her muscles, her emotions wrung out and raw.
But the thought of this being her last night in Bear Creek—her last night in this cabin, by this fire, knowing that Caleb would return—kept her rooted in place.
She rose and added another log to the fire; the flames flared briefly before settling again. Then she curled back up, tucking her feet beneath her, pulling the blanket closer.
Just a little longer,she told herself.
She would wait up.
Not because she expected anything to happen when he came back. Not because she was hoping for more, though she was, even if she didn’t quite dare admit it.
