41. WADE
WADE
Flannel, Wine, and Forever Plans
I found myself watching him fade into sleep, my heart racing in my chest. There weren’t many times I let a man take me so completely for his pleasure. I loved being the one in control, the one to give, but this—this was something else. That had been up there with the best sex of my life, alongside every other time I’d been with my pretty Cal Johnson. My fingers instinctively moved to stroke his hair, soft and mussed, as I admired the small freckles that dusted his cheeks. Breathing in the musky scent of us, I allowed myself to hope, to wish, that I’d never have to let this go. Eventually, I too fell asleep.
When I woke up, I was disappointed not to see Cal’s handsome face beside me. One of my favorite things was catching him first thing in the morning—unmanicured, ass-ruffled, and somehow even more gorgeous. The smell of food wafting through the cabin, however, was enough to rouse me, though not without groaning at the familiar ache in my joints.
I cursed under my breath, willing my stiff body to move as I creaked across the floorboards. Between my grumbling and the wooden floor creaking much like my joints —, there was no way to approach Cal quietly. Rounding the corner into the small kitchen, I stopped dead in my tracks. Cal stood at the stove, clad in nothing but tight boxer briefs and my flannel.
I bit my knuckles at the sight, barely holding back a groan. He turned, catching me with that signature sassy smirk that knew exactly what it was doing to me.
“Well, hello to you, my handsome ol’ man,” he teased, his voice dripping with mischief.
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Ha-ha, missing the ‘D’ in old doesn’t make it okay, darling.”
“Oh, I’d never miss your D, baby,” he winked, turning back to whatever magic he was cooking. The scent was mouthwatering.
“So,” he started, fluttering around the kitchen like the perfect chaotic storm that he was, “I figured your body would likely be protesting our, uh, countless bad choices last night.”
“Darling,” I interrupted, “you are never a bad choice.”
He paused for a moment, melting just enough to make my chest ache before recovering with a flick of his wrist. “I meant the food and alcohol, you sap.”
Grinning, I watched him move, teasing me with every step. “So, I’ve been doing a little research,” he continued, “and I found an anti-inflammatory diet—less depressing than the usual ones, of course. And voila! Turmeric-infused breakfast veggies and honey tea. It sounds healthy, but trust me, it’s delicious.”
The gesture warmed me more than the food could, though I couldn’t help noticing the trail of chaos he left in the kitchen. Deciding to ignore it, I sat on the stool and took my first bite. A groan left me, unbidden, as the flavors hit me. It was delicious.
“Pretty boy,” I said, my voice low with awe, “is there anything you can’t do?”
Cal came up behind me, his hands working their magic on my stiff neck, and another sound escaped me, this time of pure relief.
“As long as you don’t complain that I make a mess and that I’m too much,” he quipped, leaning in to kiss my head, “then no. I’m fabulous and infallible.”
I laughed, catching his hand and kissing his knuckles softly. “To me, my love, you are absolutely infallible.”
I felt him falter but sadly he didn't take the bait I put out there. But maybe it was for the best, I did want to plan something special, Though it did have to be soon because I was done holding back from him.
I ate the amazing food, and then I had to get to work. It was my last week and then I had to go back to Canada. It seemed so long ago that I lied saying I had Cal as a boyfriend. my stomach protested against it because the idea of Faking it was not something I could fathom anymore.
When I got back to the cabin, a smile tugged at my lips as I spotted my mom and Cal sitting on the porch, glasses of wine in hand. The sight was endearing and frustrating all at once—two people who could effortlessly turn the world upside down in their own unique ways, sitting there like they didn’t have a care in the world. Also, I not so secretly just wanted Cal all to myself.
“Well, Wade, please tell me you’ve decided to stay until the wedding,” Mom said, her usual finesse-free approach hitting me square in the chest. Who needed a hello, anyway?
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Cal chewing his lip, clearly uneasy. It didn’t take a genius to figure out they’d been discussing the one topic I’d been meticulously avoiding.
“I have to go back to my bar, Mom,” I sighed, feeling the weight of my words as I spoke them. My gaze shifted to Cal, watching him intently for any hint of disappointment. He didn’t look it—or at least, not outwardly. Did I want him to be?
Mom, predictably, didn’t let it go. “Well, I don’t see the point. Cal is doing amazing work here, and he has the wedding he planned this week, so he needs to be here to make sure everything arrives.”
“Mom,” I said, leveling her with a look, “you don’t think Cal has every delivery time meticulously scheduled and highlighted? This wedding would go smoothly even if he wasn’t there. But if Cal wants to stay, he can. I don’t want to take him away from what he loves.”
At that, Cal shot up from his seat, a little too dramatically, and his wine sloshed onto the porch floor. “Crap,” he muttered under his breath, fumbling as he cursed. Before I could even move to steady him, he threw his hands up in frustration, and the next thing I knew, I was doused in what smelled suspiciously like dessert wine.
“Crap, Jack, I’m such an idiot,” he groaned, his voice dripping with exasperation.
I reached for his glass, setting it safely on the side table before turning to him, my voice firm. “Cal, you’re not an idiot,” I said sternly. I’d always put a stop to his self-deprecating talk—always.
He huffed, running a hand through his hair. “Ugh, no, but I was going to be all movie drama and be like, ‘You not being here is not what I want, I love you and I go where you go.’” He paused, waving a hand at the wine-slicked floor. “But then I spilled my wine and looked like a fool and ruined the moment. But don’t worry—you don’t have to say it back. I promised myself I wouldn’t fall, and like all promises to myself—like not eating the last brownie and leaving it for you—I break them.”
The ramble was gaining momentum, his words spilling faster than the wine had, and I could see more bubbling
at the surface, waiting to tumble out. Instead of letting him spiral, I stepped forward, crowding him until he stopped, his breath hitching as I cupped his face.
I kissed him, deeply and thoroughly, pouring every unspoken word and emotion into it. Letting him feel exactly how I felt.
When I pulled away, I was blessed with a speechless and panting Cal. It wasn’t a look he gave freely, and damn if I didn’t love him like this. Vulnerable, open, and undeniably mine. “My pretty boy,” I murmured, my voice soft but steady, “I love you.”
His brown eyes misted over, a spark of emotion catching like fire before he spoke, his voice cracking just slightly. “But you were willing to leave me behind—”
The words hit me like a slap. The man who had been left behind by his own family, the man who carried the scars of being cast aside, and I’d been ready to do the same to him. Even if my intention had been noble, thinking he’d be happier staying here, I hadn’t considered what it would mean to him. I’d been willing to be apart, thinking it was best for him, without realizing that he was my happy. And, as corny as it sounded, I was his.
“I thought I was doing what was best for you,” I admitted, holding his gaze. “I would do anything to make you happy, Cal. But one thing’s for sure—distance or not, there’s no way I’d let you go. You’re stuck with me, darling.”
“Well,” he said, his lips twitching into a smile that was equal parts teasing and genuine, “being stuck with me, my lumberjack, means you wake up to me every morning. If I’m giving up my pregnancy pillow and dildo for a relationship, my man needs to be in my bed.”
I choked on my saliva. His words hit me like a freight train, and in the background, I was reminded of Mom’s presence by the faint sound of her stifled laughter—or maybe it was horror.
Rubbing my eyes with one hand to compose myself, I leaned into Cal’s ear, my voice a low rumble meant only for him. “I can promise you I’ll always be in your bed. So, the pillow can go—but who says we can’t have fun with the dildo from time to time?”
Cal’s hand flew to his forehead, his dramatic flair kicking into high gear as he pretended to swoon, letting out a theatrical sigh. “You really are my Prince Charming—in plaid.”
I grinned, knowing without a doubt that this was the kind of life I wanted forever. Corny lines, endless teasing, and Cal’s unapologetic, vibrant self lighting up my every day.
Later that evening, after the chaos of my mother’s wine-fueled interference and Cal’s dramatic declarations, we found ourselves curled up on the couch in the cabin, a bottle of wine between us. The fire crackled, filling the space with a warm glow that felt as cozy as the conversation that had brought us to this point.
“So,” I started, my arm slung over Cal’s shoulders as he leaned into me, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on my thigh. “I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier.”
“Which part?” he teased, looking up at me with that mischievous glint in his eyes. “The pregnancy pillow or the dildo?”
I chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “As charming as those priorities are, I was thinking more about how you said you wanted to wake up to me every morning. Because, darling, I feel the same way.”
He paused, his hand stilling against my leg. I felt him holding his breath, waiting for me to continue.
“I don’t think I can leave,” I admitted. The words felt right as they left my mouth. “I called Taron earlier—they’ve been managing the bar better than I ever did. They’re natural. I asked if they’d be willing to take it on permanently, and they’re in.”
Cal shifted, sitting up to face me fully. “Wait, you mean—”
“I mean,” I said, taking his hands in mine, “we stay. Here. Together. In this cabin or wherever you want, as long as it’s with you.”
His eyes filled with that familiar sparkle, the one I lived for, though it was tinged with disbelief. “But your bar—it’s your life. Are you sure about this?”
I nodded, squeezing his hands. “The bar was my life when I didn’t have anything else, Cal. But now I have you. And I have this place that feels like home in a way I didn’t think I’d ever find again. I’ll still own the bar, but it’s time for me to let someone else take the reins. This is where I want to be.”
Cal stared at me for a moment, his lips twitching as if he was trying to hold back a grin but failing miserably. Then he launched himself into my arms, his momentum almost knocking us both off the couch.
“You really mean it?” he asked, his voice muffled against my shoulder.
“I really mean it,” I said, stroking his hair.