Chapter 25 Colson
twenty-five
Colson
My mom had a couple candles around the house, ones that have never been lit. I find a matchbook in a drawer and hand them to Sadie, who starts lighting the ones she can find.
You’re not supposed to open a fridge or freezer when the power goes out but luckily, I don’t really have any food that can go bad. I pull out the block of cheese and preserves, and get to work on the one thing I can really offer Sadie: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich plus cheese and crackers.
Once a few candles are lit, she sits on the counter, legs swinging, watching me like this is the most interesting thing she’s seen all day.
“PB and J?” she asks, amused. “You really know how to impress a girl.”
“Careful,” I say, spreading peanut butter like it’s a sacred ritual. “This is a craft. Balance matters.”
She laughs, the sound warm and easy. The room shifts as the glow spreads, casting soft shadows, gold light catching in her hair. It feels quieter somehow. Like the house is holding its breath.
I line up the cheese and crackers on a plate, then add a spoonful of preserves on the side.
“Now, the real question is,” I can hear the smile behind her words, “what is your preferred sandwich shape?”
I hold the knife above the sandwich, stretching out the answer like it’s something that holds weight.
“The right way,” I say as I cut the bread diagonally. I offer her a plate; when she goes to take it, I pull it away and lean in. My lips find hers and she laughs into it.
Sadie hops down from the counter and takes the plate, her fingers brushing mine briefly, but it’s enough to send a spark up my arm.
“Thank you,” she says, quieter now. She takes a bite, eyes closing for half a second like she’s really savoring it. “This is perfect.”
I lean back against the counter, watching her eat, feeling like I’m right where I’m supposed to be. If you would’ve asked me two months ago where I’d be in July, there’s no way I could’ve called this: my mom’s summer house, in the middle of a storm, with a woman who is like sunshine incarnate.
Sadie wears one of my T-shirts, baggy on her, and a pair of my socks. That’s all she requested. I need someone to tell me how this woman looks this fucking drop dead gorgeous in my kitchen right now. Her hair is damp, towel dried, and she’s fresh faced.
I swear, it’s like Sadie can soften the edges. All the things I’m uncertain of, all the shit I haven’t dealt with yet—it feels less when she’s around.
“Don’t forget about the charcuterie.” I nudge the cutting board in her direction, which has a single type of cheese and cracker.
She doesn’t hesitate when she eats a piece of cheese and exclaims, “Ah, you got the good stuff.” Her brows lift and push into her forehead as she continues to taste. “This is definitely from Tom’s.”
“No, it’s from—” I stop to look at the wrapper on the counter. “The Cheese House,” I declare, proudly showing her the label.
She laughs and nods. “Yes, that’s Tom’s place. He’s the owner and the only cheese monger Golden Harbor has to offer. Did you get it from there or from the store display?”
“Cheese monger?” I laugh at her. I know it’s the formal title for someone who runs a cheese store, but again, I didn’t expect the conversation to go to Golden Harbor’s residential cheese monger.
Shaking my head, I continue. “Damn. You seem to know everyone.” I put a piece of cheese on top of a cracker and pop it in my mouth. “I grabbed it at the store.”
“Oh, Colson.” Sadie’s hand goes to her hip; the way she says my name has me paying extra close attention. “You’re missing out. Samples! We have to do a cheese tasting.”
We.
I’d be lying if there wasn’t a warm feeling running through my chest, reaching my fingertips and stretching down to my toes. She’s making plans.
Wind howls and whips around outside, slamming branches into the windows. It makes Sadie jump. I pull out my phone to check the weather app, and see the same types of alerts. I show the screen to Sadie.
Her shoulder slump as she says, “Wow, nothing like a soggy Fourth of July weekend. We get storms like this but they’re usually short lived.”
Sadie walks to the front windows in my living room, peering out.
The roads glisten as lightning strikes, water still rushing over parts of it.
When she turns, worry knits into her features.
I’m sure she’s thinking about the rec center next door.
But out of all the things we can’t control, weather is at the top of that list.
“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of it together.” I tip my head toward the general direction of the place I know is pulling at her.
Sadie doesn’t say anything but I can tell she’s still thinking about it.
She changes the subject. “Doesn’t look like I’ll be leaving any time soon.” She comes back to her sandwich, taking a bite.
“What a shame,” I joke, catching her eyes with mine. “You’ll have to stay here tonight.”
As if on cue, she yawns. I gather the dishes, put them in the sink, and reach for her hand.
“Come on,” I say and try not to smile too big when she puts her hand in mine.
I lead the way up the stairs to my room. She follows without saying a word. The only sound is the rain and wind pummeling the house. If it weren’t for that, I’m almost certain she could’ve heard the heartbeat that pounds in my chest, echoing throughout my body.
I keep my grip loose, like I’m giving her an out, even though my chest tightens at the thought of her taking it. At the top of the stairs, I hesitate—only for a second—because this all seems too easy.
But she’s still there. Still warm. Still choosing this.
I open my door and step aside, gruff and careful, like I’m handling something breakable. And for the first time in a long while, the quiet doesn’t feel empty—it feels full of something I might actually want to keep.