Chapter 16 Taron
Taron
The bench creaks under new weight. I don’t need to look to know it’s him—Kaleb’s presence is unmistakable, like the air itself shifts when he’s near.
He sits beside me without a word at first.
Close enough that our thighs touch.
Close enough that I feel the warmth radiating off him even through my sweater.
I keep staring at my phone. The email from Pace is still open. Fingers hovering. Heart hammering.
“You okay?” His voice is low, careful.
I swallow and shake my head once. “Not really, Kaleb.”
He waits. Doesn’t push. Just sits there—solid, patient, just like always.
I turn the screen toward him so he can read it. The words blur a little through sudden tears.
Kaleb scans it and I see his jaw tighten. He exhales slow through his nose.
“Pace,” Kaleb snarls.
“Yeah.” My voice cracks. “Big publisher. Six figures. Just needs… changes. Steamier. Tighter. His words, basically.”
Kaleb doesn’t speak right away. He reaches over, covers my hand with his—big, warm, steady. Thumb strokes once across my knuckles.
“You need to follow your heart, Taron,” Kaleb says. “I might be a Daddy, but when it comes to something like this, the decision has to be yours. Always. But before you decide… there’s someone I want you to meet.”
I blink up at him. “Who?”
He stands, offers his hand. “Come on. It’s not far.”
I take Kaleb’s hand and let him pull me up. We walk side by side through the square, past the fountain, past the maple tree. Past the grocery store where Mrs. Peplinska waves from the doorway. Kaleb nods back, but he keeps us moving.
We end up at the diner.
The bell jingles as we step inside. Same checkered floor, same blackboard menu, same smell of bacon and coffee that feels like home now. A few regulars glance up, smile at Kaleb and at me too.
I walk with Kaleb as he leads me toward a booth near the window where an older man sits alone—sixties maybe, silver hair, wire-rimmed glasses, a worn paperback open beside his coffee mug. He looks up as we approach, face lighting with recognition.
“Kaleb! Didn’t expect to see you till next week’s pruning.”
“Jonathan,” Kaleb smiles. “This is Taron. Taron, this is Jonathan McAllen.”
My brain short-circuits.
Jonathan McAllen.
The Jonathan McAllen?
Prize-winning author. Three National Book Awards. Novels that get taught in universities. The man whose debut I read in grad school and inspired me so much on pretty much every level.
I’m shaking his hand before I even realize it. “Mr. McAllen. I… wow. I’m such a huge fan. The Invisible Shadow changed my life.”
Jonathan’s eyes crinkle. “Call me Jonathan. And thank you. Kaleb has told me a little about you. Said you’re a writer too. Says you’ve got real talent and work ethic to go along with that.”
I glance at Kaleb. He shrugs one shoulder—like it’s no big deal he’s been talking about me to literary legends.
“Sit,” Jonathan says, gesturing. “The coffee is on me.”
We slide in opposite him. Kaleb orders pie for us—apple, warm, with ice cream. Jonathan waits until the server walks away.
“So,” Jonathan says gently. “Kaleb mentioned you’ve got a situation. A big one.”
“And it’s just got bigger,” Kaleb adds.
I nod, throat tight. Show him the email on my phone.
Jonathan reads it slowly. His brows furrow. He hands the phone back. I really don’t know what to expect from him. But I know I need to listen.
“Sounds like a dream,” Jonathan says. “And it could be. But I’m going to tell you what no one told me when I was your age.”
He leans forward, voice low but firm.
“I sold my first novel to a publisher who wanted ‘more commercial appeal.’ More sex. More violence. Less introspection. I did it. Changed the book. Took the money. It sold well. But, it wasn’t what I wanted to write.
And every time someone asked me about it, I felt sick.
Because it wasn’t mine anymore. Not really. ”
He pauses.
“I spent years trying to claw my way back to the voice I’d lost,” Jonathan continues. “Harsh lessons. Expensive ones. Don’t make the same mistake, Taron. Stay true. The right publisher—the one who gets you—will come. They always do. And when they do, they won’t ask you to rewrite your soul.”
Tears burn behind my eyes. I feel relief, gratitude, clarity.
I look at Kaleb. He’s watching me—steady, proud.
“Thank you,” I whisper to Jonathan. “Really.”
Jonathan smiles. “Anytime. And if you ever want a second pair of eyes on that manuscript… you know where to find me.”
I laugh—shaky, happy. “I might take you up on that.”
We talk a little longer—about books, about the woods, about how Kaleb’s been trimming Jonathan’s old oaks for fifteen years. Then Jonathan excuses himself to take his favorite stool at the counter, coffee in hand.
Kaleb and I sit in quiet for a moment.
I turn to him. “Was that… what you wanted to talk about yesterday?”
“Kind of.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Wanted you to hear from someone who’s been there. Before you decided what to do with your life. You know…”
I nod. Take a breath.
“I’m rejecting it. The offer. The changes. All of it. I’m emailing him right now, telling him we’re done. For good.”
Kaleb’s eyes soften. “You sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure.” I pull out my phone. Fingers steady now. I type fast.
Pace,
No. I’m not interested. The book stays as it is. We’re finished. Do not contact me again.
Taron
Send. Blocked again. Everywhere. And this time he’s staying blocked. I don’t need people like that in my life, not anymore. Not now I have Kaleb.
I set the phone down.
Kaleb watches me the whole time. When I look up, his expression is different—open, vulnerable in a way I’ve never seen.
“Taron,” Kaleb says, his voice warm but with a hint of nerves in it.
My heart stops.
“I love you.”
The words land soft. Certain. Like they’ve been waiting forever.
“I love you so damn much,” Kaleb continues. “You’re my Forever. My Little. My everything. And I’ll go anywhere with you. City. Woods. Doesn’t matter. I just want to be where you are.”
Tears spill over and I can see that Kaleb isn’t a million miles away from tears either. But for both of us, any tears are happy ones.
“I would never ask you to leave,” I whisper. “And I don’t want to. I want to stay. Here. With you. Forever.”
He turns to me and cups my face. Thumbs brush away tears.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
My Forever Daddy leans in and kisses me—slow, deep, perfect. Right there in the diner, in front of everyone.
The bell jingles.
Robbie and Trask burst in—flushed, laughing, hand in hand.
Robbie’s eyes go wide. “Did we just walk in on a moment?”
Kaleb grins against my lips and pulls back just enough to say, “Yeah. You did, Robbie.”
“Well I’ll be… the great Kaleb Ruhst finally found his boy,” Trask laughs, a look of delight in his eyes as he slaps Kaleb on the shoulders.
Robbie and Trask both slide into the booth.
“Milkshakes!” Robbie declares. “Mega milkshakes all round. We’re celebrating!”
Trask raises a brow at Kaleb. “I told you…”
Kaleb’s arm slides around my shoulders. Pulls me close.
“Yeah. You sure did,” Kaleb smiles, a knowing look in his eyes. “You’re a good friend, Trask. The damned best if truth be told.”
Robbie claps. “Nawwwww!”
The server brings milkshakes—chocolate, strawberry, vanilla. Extra whipped cream. We toast—glasses clinking, laughter spilling over.
Kaleb’s hand finds mine under the table and he squeezes.
I look around—at Robbie and Trask bickering over whose milkshake is better, at the diner full of familiar faces, at the man beside me who just promised me Forever.
Everything feels perfect.
And that’s because it just is.