Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Dakota
Pine Valley Trail has to be one of the most peaceful places on Earth.
I love it here. It’s a great place to sketch. Especially when Charlie is having a great time with Alice so I can just be.
Just breathe. Just… sketch.
I pull my sketchbook onto my lap, the soft paper grounding me. The sun is warm, the creek is babbling peacefully, and everything feels in perfect harmony. It’s the kind of moment where I can almost forget about everything else.
I’m in my element.
The trees above are dotted with fading green and gold leaves swaying lazily in the breeze. I can already see the lines I want to capture. The way the light filters through the leaves, the way the shadows stretch and twist.
With a deep breath, I dip my pencil to paper and lose myself in the sketch. Everything around me, the creek, the birds, the soft crunch of my boots shifting on the dirt, becomes a gentle background hum to my thoughts.
It’s peaceful. Almost too peaceful. Like I’ve stolen a slice of calm and wrapped it around myself.
But life, as it always does, has a funny way of reminding you it’s still there.
I hear it before I see it. The soft thud of hooves.
Oh, no.
I glance up, and my heart damn near stops beating.
It’s Clint. Of course it’s Clint.
Because why wouldn’t it be? The one time I manage to get a little peace, here he comes, trotting down the trail like he owns the place.
I try to focus on my sketch. Pretend he’s not here. But I hear the unmistakable sound of reins being tied, followed by the slight rustle of fabric. I look up.
And there he is.
“Well, well,” he says, flashing me that crooked smile that’s way too charming for his own good. “What’s this? A peaceful moment all to yourself?”
I roll my eyes, pretending to be annoyed, even though my heart does that little flutter. “What are you doing here? Did you follow me?”
He chuckles, a sound that rumbles through the air like thunder. “No, just happened to be out this way. Thought I’d stop by, see what you’re up to.”
I raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Because you’re totally the kind of guy who just happens to wander down a trail, see someone sketching by the creek, and decide to interrupt.”
His grin widens, the same knowing look in his eyes that’s been making my stomach do flips ever since I showed up back in town. “Maybe it’s just a happy accident. It’s not my fault you’re ignoring the world.”
“I’m not ignoring the world,” I say, folding my arms across my chest, trying to act tough even though my brain is doing cartwheels. “I’m just enjoying some peace and quiet. You know, like normal people.”
Clint raises an eyebrow. “Normal people? I’m not so sure about that. Normal people don’t sit alone by a creek, sketching stuff. They’re more into…” He glances around dramatically. “I don’t know, playing games on their phones, or doing something… normal.”
“Well,” I say, smirking, “I’m not normal, then.”
Clint steps closer, boots crunching softly against the dirt as he peers down at my sketchbook. He’s so close now that I can feel the warmth of his presence filling up all the space between us. My heart skips a beat, and I’m pretty sure my pulse betrays me.
“You know,” he says, bending down just enough to get a better look, “you’re really good at this.”
I freeze. I wasn’t expecting that. Not from him.
“Uh, thanks,” I mutter, self-conscious all of a sudden.
Why is it that when he says something nice, I feel like I’m about to trip over my own words?
Clint’s still standing too close, his presence too large, and it’s messing with my concentration. I focus on my sketchbook, but I can’t stop noticing how his hand brushes against the cover, or how his breath catches a little when he sees the lines I’ve drawn.
“So, what’s going on with you?” he asks, the teasing smile fading just a little, replaced by something… quieter. “How’s the house? Settling in okay?”
I hesitate, glancing down at the half-finished sketch of the creek. I’m not sure what to say, or where to even start. The mess I’m trying to sort through?
Or the fact that I’ve been seriously considering staying here, even though every part of me knows it’s a bad idea. Even though Clint is part of the reason it’s so complicated.
“It’s… fine,” I say, more to myself than to him. “A lot of work, though. It’s been harder than I expected. There’s a lot of history here. And a lot of memories that are… not easy to deal with.”
Clint doesn’t say anything for a long moment. His face is stoic, his features a mask of calm that only makes me want to push a little harder. “I get it. And you’re selling, right?”
“I…” I want to say more. I want to tell him that it’s not just the house. That I’ve been thinking about staying here for good.
That I want Charlie to grow up here, in Colter Creek, even if that means dealing with Clint and the past I’ve been running from. But I can’t bring myself to say it.
“Yeah, that’s right.” I swallow hard.
Because what if he doesn’t want us here? What if he doesn’t want me here?
His silence makes it hard to gauge anything. Clint’s not giving me anything to work with. And that’s the problem.
If I’m going to tell him how I feel, I need some kind of reaction. Some sign that he… might actually want us to stay.
But right now, it’s like I’m talking to a wall.
I need to tell him. I really do. It’s been going on for way too long now.
Charlie is yours.
You know that one-night stand we had years ago…
I left town pregnant.
Ugh, it’s too much. But I have to get the words out somehow.
My stomach tightens just thinking about it. The guilt, the secret, the fear that if I tell him, it’ll change everything… everything between us, and everything for Charlie.
It’s a weight that presses on my chest, but it’s also one I can’t keep carrying. Not anymore.
I set the sketchbook aside and rise to my feet, my legs unsteady.
But as I open my mouth to speak, to finally get the words out, Clint does something I’m not ready for. And it makes me freeze.
He steps forward, closing the space between us, and his lips are on mine.
I don’t even know how it happened. One second, I’m standing there, my heart pounding, trying to find the right words, and the next, Clint’s kissing me.
His lips are warm, firm, and so familiar, like coming home after years away. It’s as if my body recognizes him in ways I didn’t even know it could.
Everything else disappears. My thoughts stop spinning. The world quiets down, and all I can focus on is the heat of him, the way he pulls me closer, one hand resting gently on the small of my back.
His kiss isn’t rushed or forceful. It’s tantalizingly slow, the kind of kiss that makes everything feel… right.
It feels good. Really good. Better than I expected. Better than I ever let myself believe it would.
My hands find their way to his chest, and I can feel the calming beat of his heart through the fabric of his shirt. It’s strong, reassuring.
My brain is screaming at me to pull back, to stop this, to remember why I was supposed to be telling him the truth. But the way Clint kisses me, the way he holds me… it drowns out every protest.
I forget about everything. I forget about the house, the past, the secret I’ve been hiding for so long. I forget about the future, about whether or not I’ll stay. All that matters right now is that it’s him.
It’s always been him.