Exile

Chapter 6

DARWYNN

I hadn’t seen him in two days.

After baking him that birthday cake and watching him eat it with furrowed brows against his will, I decided to give him some space. Caspian wasn’t the kind of man you could push. If he wanted to talk, he’d find you. And sure enough, he did.

I was sitting by the water, the sun low in the sky. The non-fiction book I’d picked from the general store wasn’t giving me the satisfaction I was used to from the usual romance novels I read, but I wouldn’t let any book go to waste.

The quiet was nice and peaceful, but I heard footsteps behind me.

“Got a minute?”

His low and raspy voice was unmistakable.

I turned, smiling up at him, surprised to see him. “Of course.”

He took in the spot next to me, trying to decide if he wanted to sit on the cold stone or if he’d rather stand. I patted my hand on the ground, smiling up at him. “It’ll warm up once you sit on it.”

He grunted and finally sat down next to me. The book I had given him with the Polaroid pictures inside was in his right hand, and we both looked at it as the small waves crashed into the shore.

When he held the book to me, I set the one I was reading aside to grab it. “Did you like the pictures?”

I asked, looking up at him,

He gave a quick nod. “These are pretty damn impressive.”

My smile widened, pleased with his words. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if they’d be your thing.”

“They’re not,”

he said bluntly, then added, “but they’re good. Really.”

I flipped through the book, glancing at the photos. “Do you have a favorite?”

He reached over and flipped to a page in the middle of the book, tapping on the image of a misty forest. His hand brushed mine for a fleeting moment, and shivers ran down my spine. “That one. Feels like the kind of place you’d go to disappear.”

“That’s what I loved about it, too,”

I admitted, watching him closely. “The whole trip was like that, really. Finding places where it felt like the world just…stopped.”

He nodded, his gaze distant. “I’ve had moments like that. Rare, but they stick with you.”

“Like on a set?”

I asked, testing the waters.

His eyes flicked to me. He didn’t look amused, but he surprised me by what he said next. “Which movies of mine have you watched?”

I pursed my lips and shrugged. “A couple. Mostly the romantic comedies. Not much of an action movie fan, but I know you’re amazing in them.”

He huffed and moved his gaze to the water again. I knew that would be the only conversation we would have about his acting.

For now.

Again, I decided not to push.

There was another moment of silence, neither of us saying anything, while nature showed us just how beautiful it could sound.

He broke the quiet unexpectedly, as usual. “You like fish?”

I blinked. “Um, yeah?”

“For dinner,”

he clarified, his tone gruff as ever.

I stared at him, trying to figure out where this was going. “Dinner? At your place?”

He shot me a sideways glance, clearly regretting the invitation. “Forget it.”

“No, no, I’d love to,”

I said quickly, trying not to sound too eager. “I mean, if you don’t mind.”

“Seven o’clock,”

he said, brushing the dirt off his jeans. “Don’t be late.”

Before I could say anything else, he was already walking away, leaving me with a racing heart and a million questions.

As usual.

***

One and a half hours later, I stood outside his door. I’d chosen something casual but nice to wear. A soft sweater, skirt, and my favorite boots. It was fairly warm for a September night, but I took every opportunity I got to not wear jeans.

When he opened the door, he looked as he always did. Scruffy, broad-shouldered, and slightly annoyed.

“You’re on time,”

he said, stepping aside to let me in.

“I try to be punctual for special occasions,” I teased.

His brow raised, but he didn’t comment. Once inside, he led me into the kitchen. The smell of herbs and butter made my stomach growl. I looked toward the oven, where I could see two whole fish lying in a baking dish, with lemon slices and herbs decorating the fish.

It looked delicious.

“Did you catch them yourself?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

He looked proud, but he had to pay it cool. “It’s easy.”

I pursed my lips. “It needs patience, no?”

“Lots of it.”

“And you got patience.”

It wasn’t a statement or a question. I wanted him to decide.

“I got many things, kid, but patience is not one of them. I just know where to stand to catch the fish I want.”

Ah, of course.

“Seems…kinda boring though. Isn’t the whole point of fishing to sit and look out over the water and enjoy the silence and—“

“My way is effective,”

he said, shutting me up.

I nodded. “Got it. Well, it smells amazing. I can’t wait to try it.”

He glanced at me, his expression softening ever so slightly. “Sit.”

Yes, sir.

I got comfortable as Caspian turned to the oven to take out the fish.

I watched him as he plated it with a side of potatoes.

“You drink wine?”

he asked casually.

“Sure.”

He grabbed a bottle from the counter, opened it with practiced ease, and poured two glasses before setting them on the table. I caught a faint whiff of the wine’s sweetness as he slid a plate before me.

“Looks amazing, Caspian,”

I said, picking up my fork.

“It’s just fish,”

he muttered, sitting across from me.

“Don’t sell yourself short. You caught it, cooked it…might as well open a restaurant,”

I teased, trying to coax a reaction out of him.

He huffed out a laugh, focusing on his plate. “Yeah, sure.”

I smiled and took a bite, the flavors melting on my tongue. “This is incredible. You’re a really good cook.”

“Thanks.”

His eyes lingered on me longer than usual before he returned to his plate.

We ate mostly in silence, broken by the occasional clink of cutlery against plates. The atmosphere felt easy, and I felt comfortable around him. But then, I usually did.

When we were done, Caspian stood and cleared the plates without a word. I offered to help, but he waved me off.

He grabbed a small box from the counter and set it on the table.

“Dessert,”

he said shortly, opening the box to reveal two slices of cheesecake.

I blinked, surprised. “You bought cheesecake? I thought you didn’t eat sweets.”

“But you do.”

Oh.

I watched him closely as I realized what he just said kicked in. “And cheesecake isn’t sweet. At least not the one from the bakery,”

he said, saving himself from the hidden sweet thing he had said seconds before.

“Well, I love cheesecake.”

“Figured.”

I smiled as he slid one of the slices toward me. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

He didn’t respond, but I didn’t take it personally. I knew my words had an effect on him.

As we ate, I noticed how his shoulders seemed to relax, the usual sharpness in his expression softening as the minutes passed. It was a rare sight, and I watched him for longer than I probably should have.

“You don’t do this often, do you?”

I asked, breaking the silence.

“What?”

“Dinner. Sharing a meal with someone.”

He shook his head, setting his fork down. “Not in a long time.”

“Do you like it? Here with me, I mean.”

He glanced at me, his dark eyes unreadable. “It’s fine.”

I chuckled softly, taking another bite of cheesecake. “You know, for someone who spent years in the spotlight, you really don’t seem to like people much.”

His gaze dropped to the table again. “People are complicated.”

I leaned forward slightly, resting my elbows on the table. “Is that why you like being out here? Alone?”

He didn’t answer right away, his jaw tightening slightly. “Part of it,”

he said finally. “After what happened, I needed space. Quiet. People took up too much of both in Hollywood.”

I nodded, letting his words sink in. “I get that. But don’t you ever feel…lonely?”

He met my gaze, his expression hardening. “Lonely is better than dealing with people who only want something from you. Or want to tell you how you should see the world when in reality, they have no fucking idea of what’s right or wrong. They only see what they want to see. In that world, you learn fast that most of it isn’t real. The smiles, the friendships…even the respect. It’s all for fucking show.”

That was the most words he had ever said to me.

I let them sink in. “And out here? What’s real out here?”

For a moment, I thought he would get up and end this conversation. But his gaze flicked to the window, then back to me. “The quiet. The space to breathe. The fact that everyone here seems to not care who I am.”

I studied him, his face's lines, and his eyes' weariness. “After what happened…”

I needed to be careful with my next words. “On that set, you practically put yourself in exile. Left Hollywood.”

He raised a brow at me. “Exile?”

He laughed, but there was no humor in his voice. He didn’t like that I called it that, but he wasn’t denying it either. A heavy sigh left him. “Yeah, maybe. But that’s what you did, too, in a way.”

“How so?”

“Because you went on a months-long road trip after needing space from your mother. I guess we had the same reasons. Needing space. Needing to be alone because the people around us were not giving us what we needed.”

“Or deserved,”

I added, my eyes lingering on his. I reached across the table to place my hand on his, and to my surprise, he didn’t pull away. “You don’t have to talk about it, but I just wanted you to know I believe your side of the story.”

He gave a simple nod. “Thanks. But it doesn’t matter who believes me. I know my truth. I know now that it should never bother me to care what others think. I was angry. I hated that my friend’s death was simply accepted and turned into a damn story for them to publish and earn money off. Everybody moved on, and I—”

The sudden emotions in his voice made my heart ache. I gripped his hand and slid my fingers over his large palm. His gaze dropped to our hands, and he kept his hand there, letting me touch him and comfort him.

“I can’t imagine how it must’ve felt not getting the support from the people you trusted most. I’m sorry, Caspian.”

I squeezed his hand and felt his fingertips twitch, almost like he wanted to caress my hand back but couldn’t.

“It’s fine now. I won’t see those people again and don’t want to give them any of my time.”

I nodded, smiling softly. “I understand.”

I eyed him for another while, then retreated my hand when he cleared his throat and stood up. Silence came over us again.

We both needed it to reflect on what had been said earlier, and I specifically needed that silence to understand what that intense feeling I felt holding his hand was.

I couldn’t read too much into it, but it was hard because it felt good.

Too good.