Chapter 4 The Ring
THE RING
ELI
I'd been staring at the same piece of rebar for three hours.
It sat on my workbench in the barn behind the cabin, a chunk of steel salvaged from the old bridge project up on Mill Creek. The same bridge where Mae had pulled my sister from the water twenty years ago.
Seemed fitting.
The forge was already hot—I'd fired it up before dawn, unable to sleep after that kiss in my kitchen. That kiss that was supposed to be practice but felt like a claiming. Like a promise neither of us was ready to make.
But I was making it anyway. In steel and fire and the kind of work that left permanent marks.
I picked up the rebar and thrust it into the coals, watching the metal glow orange, then white-hot. When it was ready, I pulled it out and started hammering, each strike echoing off the barn walls like a heartbeat.
This wasn't about the fake marriage anymore. This was about the way Clara had looked at me when I'd framed her face with my hands. About the way her breath had caught—like she hadn’t meant to want me that much.
About the fact that I wanted to put my ring on her finger and mean every damn word of the vows we'd say on Saturday.
The steel began to take shape under my hammer. Rough at first, but gradually smoothing into something that looked like a promise. Like forever hammered into a circle.
By the time the sun was fully up, I had a ring. Raw iron, slightly uneven, but solid. Real. The kind of thing that would last through anything.
I was holding it up to the light when I heard Clara's truck in the driveway.
CLARA
Eli's barn door was open when I pulled up, and I could hear the rhythmic ring of hammer on metal echoing across the yard.
I found him at a workbench, shirtless despite the December cold, sweat gleaming on his chest and shoulders. His hair was damp, his jaw set in concentration as he worked something small between his fingers.
He looked up when I approached, and something flickered in his gray eyes. Something that made my breath catch.
"Morning," he said.
"Morning." I nodded toward whatever he was holding. "What are you making?"
He was quiet for a long moment, then held out his hand. In his palm sat a ring. Iron, dark and rough-edged, but beautiful in its simplicity.
"For Saturday," he said.
My throat went tight. "You made me a ring."
"Figured we needed one that looked real."
Real. Like everything else about this that was supposed to be fake but felt more honest than anything else in my life.
I reached for it, but he was already placing it in my hand.
The metal was still warm from his hands, heavy and solid. When I slipped it onto my ring finger, it fit perfectly.
"How did you know my size?" I asked.
"Lucky guess."
But the way he was looking at my hand, at his ring on my finger, didn't look like luck. It looked like intention.
"It's beautiful," I said, and meant it.
"It's rough. Uneven."
"It's perfect."
Something shifted in his expression. "Clara."
"Yeah?"
"Saturday. After the ceremony." He paused, jaw working. "Where are you planning to stay?"
The question hit me like a physical blow. We'd talked about the marriage, the legal requirements, and the town's expectations. But we hadn't talked about after.
"I... I don't know. I hadn't thought about it."
" After we're married, you could move into Mae's cabin. Make it yours."
"By myself?"
"If that's what you want."
But the way he said it, the careful distance in his voice, made me study his face more carefully.
"What if it's not?" I said, watching his face.
His hands stilled on the workbench. "What do you want?"
The question hung between us like a dare. I could have deflected, could have reminded him this was all pretend.
Instead, I stepped closer. Close enough to see the sweat beading on his chest, to catch the scent of hot metal and smoke that clung to his skin.
"I want to know why you're really doing this," I said.
"I told you—"
"The truth, Eli. Not the story about Mae and your sister. The real reason."
He was quiet for so long, I thought he wouldn't answer. Then he set down his tools and turned to face me fully.
"You want the truth?"
I nodded.
"The truth is I've been half-dead for three years. Just going through the motions, working and sleeping and pretending it was enough." His voice was rough, honest. "Then you asked me to marry you, and for the first time in three years, I felt like I had a reason to be alive."
The words hit me like a physical blow. "Eli."
"That's not your problem to solve. But you asked for the truth."
I stared at him—at this man who'd been carrying so much pain, who'd somehow found a reason to hope in my desperate proposal.
"What happened three years ago?" I asked.
His jaw clenched. "Lost my crew. Forest fire that went wrong. I was lead sawyer, supposed to keep them safe." He looked away. "Three good men died because I made the wrong call."
The weight of it settled between us like a physical presence. Now I understood the careful distance, the way he lived alone, the photo turned face-down on his refrigerator. The photo of his crew. The men he couldn't save.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"Are you?"
"Yes. And I'm sorry you've been carrying that alone."
He looked back at me then, and something raw and vulnerable flickered in his eyes. "Clara."
"Yeah?"
"This marriage. Whatever it is, whatever it becomes." He paused. "I need you to know it's not just about helping you anymore."
My heart did something strange in my chest. "What's it about?"
"It's about you. About the way you look at me like I'm worth something. About the way you fit in my kitchen, in my life." His voice dropped. "About the way you taste when I kiss you."
The last words came out rough, loaded with want, and I felt heat pool low in my stomach.
"Eli," I whispered.
"I know it's supposed to be fake. I know we agreed on no expectations.
" He stepped closer, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
"I want this to be real. All of it. You.
Me. The ring. The bed. The damn wedding.
" He exhaled hard. "Clara, I'm already halfway in love with you and it's killing me not to touch you like I mean it. "
The confession hit me like a physical blow. Raw. Honest. Everything I'd been afraid to hope for.
"Then touch me like you mean it," I said.
I reached up and touched his face, felt the scratch of stubble under my palm.
We kissed in his barn, surrounded by the smell of hot metal and sawdust.
This time, there was no pretense about practice, no lies about it being for show. This was real and desperate and honest in a way that made my knees weak.
His hands tangled in my hair, and I pressed closer, needing to feel the solid heat of him against me. When he lifted me onto the workbench, I wrapped my legs around his waist and felt him groan against my mouth.
"Clara," he said, and my name sounded like a prayer.
"I know," I whispered. "I know."
We broke apart breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, the weight of what we'd just admitted settling around us.
"Saturday," he said.
"Saturday."
"After the ceremony, you'll come home with me?"
Home. Like his cabin was already mine too.
"Yes," I said.
He smiled then—the first real smile I'd seen from him—and it transformed his entire face.
"Good," he said, pressing another kiss to my mouth. "Because I've been thinking about having you in my bed since the moment you asked me to marry you."
Heat flared through me at his words, at the promise in his voice.
"Just thinking?" I asked.
His eyes darkened. "Dreaming. Planning. Imagining what you'd look like spread out on my sheets."
"Eli." His name came out breathless.
"Soon," he said, and it sounded like a vow. "Saturday."
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
When I finally climbed down from the workbench, the ring caught the light from the barn door. His ring. On my finger. Where it belonged.
"I should go," I said. "I need to find something to wear for the wedding."
"Wear whatever makes you feel beautiful," he said. "You'll be a knockout either way."
As I walked back to my truck, I could feel him watching me. Could feel the weight of the ring on my finger, the promise we'd just made to each other.
I was marrying Eli Hayes because I loved him.
And if I wasn't careful, I'd start believing I could keep him.