Chapter 22
22
Caroline
I stared at the ceiling of my bedroom, the fan blades a monotonous blur, much like the thoughts whirling in my head since my last encounter with Walker. My heart still skipped erratically when I thought about his hands, calloused from hard work, tracing paths over my skin that shivered from more than just the cool air. Excitement had thrummed through me, a new sensation that felt like the first taste of something forbidden and sweet. But right alongside it was a knot of confusion, tightening with each memory of his light blue eyes locked on mine, intense and searching.
I’d come back to Whittier Falls for simplicity, legacy, for the weight of responsibility that comes with taking over my father’s practice. Life here was supposed to be about the steady pace of small-town living, the kind where you knew your neighbor’s dog’s name and what time Mrs. Henderson takes her evening stroll. It wasn’t supposed to be about this . . . whatever this was with Walker Anderson, the cowboy who wore denim like second skin and made me question every sensible decision I’d ever made.
But here I was, doing exactly that—questioning .
With a sigh, I pushed myself off the bed, knowing there was only one person who could help untangle this mess of feelings. I grabbed my keys and headed out, the door closing behind me with a soft click that seemed far too final for my liking.
The streets of Whittier Falls were quiet as I drove, the setting sun casting long shadows across the road. I pulled up outside Campfire Bakery just as Sutton was flipping the sign from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed.’ The warm glow from inside the bakery spilled onto the sidewalk, and I could see her wiping down the counters through the large front window.
“Hey, Sutton,” I called out as I walked in, the bell above the door jingling a merry announcement of my arrival.
“Caroline! Just in time for the last cupcake of the day. Do me a favor and lock the door behind you.” She smiled, her gray eyes crinkling at the corners, but she must have caught something in my expression because her smile faltered. “What’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or worse, an ex at the grocery store.”
“Something like that,” I muttered, turning the deadbolt and then perching on a barstool by the counter. I took the cupcake she slid toward me—a chocolate one with a generous swirl of vanilla frosting—and poked at it, not quite ready to indulge.
“Talk to me. What’s going on?” she asked, leaning against the counter with the ease of someone who’s heard it all.
“It’s Walker,” I started, unsure how to explain the whirlpool of emotions he stirred within me. “We had this . . . moment. And now I’m all twisted up inside because of it.”
“Ah, the infamous Walker charm strikes again,” she teased, but her voice softened. “Except it sounds like this is more than just charm for you.”
“Maybe.” The word came out smaller than I intended, a whisper of truth I hadn’t even admitted to myself. “It’s just—I don’t know if it’s real, you know? We’re not actually . . . together. It’s complicated.”
“Love—or even like—is always complicated, hon. But you deserve to explore those feelings, figure out what they mean to you. And who knows, maybe cowboy Casanova has more layers than we give him credit for.”
“Maybe,” I echoed again, finally taking a bite of the cupcake. The sweetness grounded me, a reminder that some things, like Sutton’s baking, were reliably good. “I mean, he definitely does. That’s one thing I’ve learned for sure. There’s way more to him than people realize.”
“You’re right about that.”
“But I think his stance on relationships is a firm one. He might have more depth than I realized, but that doesn’t mean he’ll all of a sudden change his entire life plan just because I want him to.”
“I mean, maybe not. But you won’t ever know if you don’t ask.
I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of every word before it left my lips. “It’s like . . . when we’re together, I can almost forget it’s all pretend. He makes me feel things I didn’t even know were on the menu for me. But then reality crashes back, and I remember—it’s just an act. A deal. And that hurts, Sut. It hurts being close to him and knowing that’s all it is.”
“Why does it have to be just an act? Why can’t it be more?”
“Because . . . ” My voice wavered, and I forced myself to meet her steady gray eyes. “Walker’s not looking for more, especially not with me. The whole town knows his reputation. Besides, I don’t think I could stand it if he turned me down after I spilled my guts to him. I felt something the other night . . . something real. I’d never felt it before. I think I’m in love with him and there’s no way that can end well. ”
“Caroline Cressley,” Sutton said firmly, brushing a crumb from the counter, “you are one of the smartest, kindest people in Whittier Falls. If Walker can’t see what’s right in front of him, then he’s blind. But I don’t think he is. You should tell him how you feel, give both of you a shot at something real.”
“Maybe. But what if he doesn’t want that connection with me?” I asked, my heart thudding painfully in my chest.
“You’ll hurt, but then you’ll heal. You’re stronger than you think,” she said confidently. “But you owe it to yourself to find out.”
I paced the length of my living room, my footsteps silent on the antique rug. Each step felt like a march towards an inevitable battle, one where my heart was the territory at stake. I had mulled over Sutton’s words until they became a mantra in my head, but with each repetition, my resolve only hardened. The decision to end the arrangement—the playful banter and the charged touches that were meant to be nothing more than a farce—suddenly crystallized within me.
The grandfather clock ticked away, its pendulum swinging with a rhythm that seemed to mock my racing heart. Protect it, I told myself, recalling every scene in my romance novels about guarding one’s heart. But this was real life, not some paperback fantasy where the heroine always gets her happily-ever-after.
Maybe I wasn’t meant for that.
A knock at the door jolted me from my thoughts, and for a moment, I considered pretending I wasn’t home. But that would only delay the inevitable.
“Hey, darlin’,” Walker greeted as he stepped into my safe haven, his cowboy hat held casually in one hand. His light blue eyes scanned my face, and I could see the shift in his gaze as he sensed my unease. “Something wrong?”
“Can we sit?” My voice sounded strained even to my own ears as I gestured toward the couch.
“Sure.” He settled onto the cushion, his posture easy, but his eyes never left mine.
I sat opposite him, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. “Walker, I’ve been doing some thinking, and I . . . ” The words lodged in my throat, and I had to force them out. “We need to stop.”
“Stop?” Confusion laced his voice as he leaned forward, his brows knitting together. “Stop what, exactly?”
“The arrangement,” I said, the words tasting bitter. “The flirting, the . . . lessons. Practicing. It’s just not necessary anymore.”
He stared at me, silent for a long beat, and I could almost hear the cogs turning in his head. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, it’s not that.” My throat tightened, and I fought the urge to spill everything—my fears, my desires, the way my heart clenched painfully every time he smiled. But I couldn’t. Not when I was so close to losing all semblance of self-preservation. “I just . . . don’t need your help anymore.”
“Caroline.” His voice was soft, probing. “There’s more to it, isn’t there? You can tell me.”
But I couldn’t. Telling him would mean exposing my heart, and I wasn’t ready to watch him walk away with it. So, I did what I do best—I retreated behind my walls of professionalism and logic.
“Let’s just say I’m taking a different approach to things,” I lied, hating the taste of deception on my tongue. “And I really appreciate everything you’ve taught me, truly. But this is goodbye to all that. ”
He stood up, towering over me, his expression unreadable. “Is this really what you want?”
“It is,” I said, though my heart screamed otherwise.
“Doesn’t look like it. Didn’t feel like it the other night at the river.”
“Yes, well. That was just practice, remember? You said so yourself. And I no longer need to practice.”
His eyes darkened, a storm brewing behind the light blue facade. “Just practice,” he echoed, his voice low and dangerous, almost as if he was challenging me to admit it was more to me.
I stood my ground, fighting the urge to reach out to him, to take back my words and lose myself in his embrace once more. “Just practice,” I repeated, the words tasting like ash on my tongue. Those were his words. He’d said as much right after he kissed me on that blanket by the river. So why did it seem to bother him now?
Walker’s gaze bore into mine, piercing through my carefully constructed walls with a precision that left me breathless. He took a step closer, closing the gap between us until I could feel the warmth radiating off his body, a stark contrast to the cold certainty in his eyes.
“You’re lying,” he stated simply, a flicker of hurt flashing across his features before being replaced by a mask of indifference.
“I’m not,” I countered, my voice barely above a whisper as I fought to keep my composure. “This is for the best, Walker.”
“And what about my side of the arrangement? Gray is finally close to workin’ with me here, and it’s all because of you. You’re just gonna leave me high and dry?”
“Gray is coming around because of you, not me. He’s finally seeing you deserve it. And as far as he’s concerned, us ‘ breaking up’ wouldn’t be out of the question, I mean, it’s not like you’ve ever had a relationship before. I’m sure he’s half expecting it.”
Walker’s jaw clenched at my words, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he processed what I had just said. His normally easy expression had hardened into something unreadable, a storm brewing beneath the surface. I could see the hurt in his eyes, a vulnerability he rarely showed to anyone, and it tugged at something deep within me.
Maybe it had been out of line to say it, but it wasn’t wrong.
“Right. ‘Cause if there’s one thing about me, it’s that everyone knows I’m a fuck up.”
“Walker, that’s not what I meant.”
“Right.”
“It’s not. Besides, this isn’t about you. The whole point of this was to learn how to get a man, and I’ve met someone.” The lie rolled off my tongue before I had a chance to think it through. Only that this was the easiest way to show him that this needed to end and it wasn’t his fault.
Walker huffed out a laugh but it was humorless; a clear sign of the storm brewing beneath his calm exterior. “You met someone?” His voice cracked like a whip, sharp and disbelieving.
“Y-yes,” I stuttered, the lie heavy on my tongue. “It’s new, and I want to see where it might lead.”
“New,” he echoed hollowly, the light in his eyes dimming as if a cloud had just snuffed out the sun over Whittier Falls. He blinked slowly, once, twice, trying to process my words while his hands flexed at his sides as though grappling with an invisible rope.
“You did a great job helping me learn this stuff,” I said, gesturing around as if the stuff were here in the living room with us. I wanted to shrivel up and hide .
“So that’s it then, huh? I do all that work to help you, and when I need your help, you bail on me?”
“I’m sorry.” It was all I could say. The fact that he didn’t care about losing us, but losing out on his end of the deal made this all somehow easier and much more devastating at the same time.
“So this guy is worth going back on an agreement you made with a friend?” His hurt was palpable, filling the room with a tension so thick I could almost grab it by the handfuls.
“I need to give it—give him—a fair shot.” My heart raced, betraying the calm facade I tried to maintain. I was lying straight to his face, to the man who, despite the charade, had started to mean more to me than I dared admit to him. So so much more.
“Fine.” The word was terse, a verbal punch that left both of us wounded. “If that’s what you want, Caroline. No more arrangement. No more . . . us.” He donned his hat and stepped back, his boots thudding against the wooden floor, every inch of distance feeling like miles stretching between us.
“Walk—” I began, but the rest of his name got stuck in my throat.
He turned sharply, the cowboy hat casting shadows over his eyes, hiding whatever emotions were swirling there. “I’ll get out of your way then. Wouldn’t want to interfere with your new . . . relationship.”
“Wait, please,” I said, a desperate plea that went unheeded. This was what I’d wanted, what could I ask him to wait for?
But he didn’t wait anyway. Not this time.
Walker stormed out, the door slamming behind him with a finality that echoed through the empty space. My knees buckled, and I gripped the edge of the kitchen counter for support. The silence after the slam whispered the truth I couldn’t voice—that I’d just pushed away the one person who made me reconsider every wall I’d ever built around my heart .
My breaths came in short bursts, an inadequate attempt to stave off the despair.
The house creaked softly, responding to the shift of weight as I slid down to the hard wood floor. As much as I wanted to believe I’d done the right thing, doubt crept in like the chill from the night air seeping through the cracks in my resolve.
I wrapped my arms around my knees, staring at the closed door through blurred vision. Tears pooled in the corners of my eyes, spilling over as I listened to Walker’s truck roar to life and fade into the distance, taking with it the warmth of his presence. My chest ached, hollowed out by the force of my sobs. In the dim glow of the living room lamp, shadows played across the floor, mirroring the turmoil inside me.
“Stupid,” I whispered between gasps, chastising myself. “So stupid.”
I had prided myself on being sensible, level-headed Dr. Cressley, but now? Now, I was just Caroline, sitting on the cold floor, grappling with a heart that refused to follow any prescribed logic or reason.
The silence that settled after felt oppressive. Around me, the house was still, as if holding its breath. It was in these quiet moments that the enormity of what I’d done truly sank in. I’d pushed away the person who mattered most.
I thought this decision would protect my heart, but no. I had shattered it into a million pieces.