17. Sadie
Sadie
W hen I walk out of my apartment Caleb is waiting for me, he looks up from his phone with a smile that makes my knees wobble.
He’s changed into dark jeans and a button-down that brings out his eyes, his hair still damp like he rushed to shower after whatever he spent the afternoon doing.
His sandalwood scent is strong. There’s something about his familiar alpha warmth that makes everything in me settle with contentment.
“Hey,” he says, opening the passenger door for me. “Good day?”
“The best day.” I settle into the seat, immediately surrounded by his scent in the enclosed space. It makes something in me relax completely. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere I’ve been wanting to take you since I got back to town.” He starts the truck, glances at me with an expression that’s part nervous, part determined. “You trust me?”
“I trust you.”
The words come out easier than I expected, and I realize they’re completely true. Despite everything that’s happened, despite how overwhelming today has been, being with Caleb feels like the most natural thing in the world.
The drive takes us out of town in a direction I’ve never been, winding up into the mountains on roads that get progressively narrower and more scenic.
Caleb drives with the same confident competence he brings to everything, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the console close enough that I could touch it if I wanted to.
And I do want to. The realization surprises me—after the emotional intensity of breakfast with Reid and the afternoon with Levi, I should be drained.
Reid made me feel cherished and seen, like I was worth building dreams around.
Levi made me feel beautiful and desired, like I was poetry come to life.
But there’s something about Caleb’s solid presence that makes me feel energized rather than overwhelmed. Safe in a completely different way.
“Tell me about your day,” he says after we’ve been driving for a few minutes. “How was breakfast with Reid?”
“Good. Really good.” I study his profile, looking for any signs of jealousy or territorial behavior. Instead, I see genuine interest, maybe even satisfaction. “He wants to help with the business. Offered to introduce me to corporate clients, help with expansion planning.”
“That sounds great.” There’s warmth in Caleb’s voice, genuine pleasure at my happiness. “What about your afternoon with Levi?”
“He took me to this creek, this beautiful hidden place. We read books and talked about family and home.”
We drive higher into the mountains, past pine forests and rocky outcroppings that catch the late afternoon light. Just when I’m starting to wonder where he’s taking me, Caleb pulls into the parking lot of what looks like a rustic steakhouse with huge windows overlooking the valley.
“Mountain View,” he says, coming around to open my door like the gentleman Maeve clearly raised him to be. “Best steaks in three counties, according to Dean. And far enough from home that we won’t have Millie taking notes on what we order.”
I laugh, accepting his offered arm. “I love living in a small town, but sometimes it would be nice to have a conversation without an audience.”
“Exactly what I was thinking.”
The hostess seats us at a corner table with the best view in the restaurant. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I can see the entire valley spread below us—tiny lights beginning to twinkle in three different towns as darkness settles over the mountains.
“Caleb,” I breathe, leaning forward to take it all in. “This is incredible. Look, you can see Honeyridge Falls from here.”
“Right there,” he points to a cluster of lights nestled between the hills. “That’s Main Street. Your shop is in that group of buildings on the left.”
The thoughtfulness of choosing a table where I can see home makes my chest warm. “You planned this.”
“Maybe.” His cheeks flush slightly, and the boyish embarrassment transforms his whole face. “Thought you’d like seeing the big picture for once. Instead of being right in the middle of it all.”
“I love it. I love that you thought about what would make me happy.”
When the server comes to take our drink orders, I catch Caleb watching me with an expression I can’t quite read. Softer than usual. Less guarded.
“What?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious.
“Nothing. Just... you look beautiful tonight. Relaxed.” He pauses, considering his words. “It’s nice seeing you without worry lines between your eyebrows.”
“I don’t have worry lines.”
“You have worry lines.” He reaches across the table to gently smooth the spot between my brows with his thumb. “Right here. They show up every time someone mentions the festival or supplier delays or insurance payments.”
The casual intimacy of the touch makes my breath catch. “How long have you been noticing my worry lines?”
“Since the berry festival. Maybe before that.” His hand retreats, but his eyes stay warm. “I pay attention to you, Sadie. Have been for a while now.”
The admission sends heat racing through me, and I can smell how my scent sweetens in response. From the way his pupils dilate slightly, he notices too.
“Tell me about growing up with Maeve,” I say, needing to steer the conversation somewhere safer before I do something embarrassing like climb across the table. “I remember you and Dean letting me tag along on some of your adventures, but I had a feeling I was a little imposing.”
His expression shifts, becomes fond. “You were determined. You’d follow us around with that stubborn little chin raised, daring us to try to ditch you.”
“I was not that bad.”
“You were exactly that bad. And it was adorable.” He grins, and the expression makes him look years younger. “I might have complained to Aunt Maeve that my little shadow had his own shadow.”
“I just wanted to be included.”
“I know. And we should have been nicer about it.” His voice gets gentler. “For what it’s worth, I always thought you were brave. Most kids would have given up after the first time we told you to go home.”
“I was stubborn.”
“You were brave,” he corrects. “There’s a difference.”
The server returns with wine, and Caleb waits until we’re alone again before continuing. “Aunt Maeve raised us after my parents died. And she always told me to be kind and understanding… especially with a brave girl following me around on mountain hikes.”
“She taught me how to cook, how to treat people with respect, how to use my hands to fix things instead of just breaking them.” His smile turns warm with genuine affection.
“She raised a good man.”
“She tried to. Jury’s still out on how well she succeeded.” But he’s smiling when he says it, and I can smell the contentment in his scent when he talks about his aunt.
“What was it like? Growing up there?”
“Loud. Warm. Always people coming and going. Aunt Maeve never could turn anyone away who needed help.” He pauses to taste the wine, nods approvingly to the server.
“She’d have Dean and me doing chores to earn our allowance, but then she’d slip us extra money if she thought we were working particularly hard. ”
“Sounds like she spoiled you.”
“Completely. Still does.” His grin turns sheepish. “She sent care packages to wherever I’m stationed. Homemade cookies, hand-knitted socks, newspaper clippings about people from home. The guys in my unit used to call me ‘Montana’ because of all the hometown stuff she’d send.”
The image of big, tough Caleb receiving care packages from his Aunt makes my chest feel tight with affection. “That’s sweet.”
“It’s embarrassing. But also...” He pauses, looking for words. “It’s nice having someone who cares enough to embarrass you, you know? Someone who worries about whether you’re eating enough vegetables and staying warm.”
“She loves you.”
“Yeah. She does.” His expression grows more thoughtful. “When I decided to come home, she was the first person I told. Before I even submitted my discharge papers.”
“What did she say?”
“That it was about damn time.” His laugh is warm and genuine. “Then she told me about dean finding his omega.”
“And now Dean’s settled with his pack.”
“Now Dean’s settled with his pack,” he agrees. “And Maeve’s been dropping hints about wanting great-nieces and nephews from me before she’s too old to spoil them properly.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “She’s been dropping hints?”
“Subtle as a brick through a window, that woman.” But his eyes are dancing with amusement. “Yesterday she asked if I’d been ‘spending time with anyone special’ and when I mentioned you, she got this look on her face like she’d just won a bet with herself.”
“Oh god. What kind of look?”
“The kind that means she’s already planning Sunday dinners and knitting baby blankets.” He reaches across the table to take my hand, thumb tracing over my knuckles. “Don’t worry. I told her to slow down. That we’re still figuring things out.”
“Are we? Figuring things out?”
His expression grows more serious, though his thumb never stops its gentle motion across my skin. “I think so. I hope so.”
The server arrives with our meals—perfectly cooked steaks and roasted vegetables that smell incredible—but I’m more focused on the man across from me. The way he cuts his food with precise, economical movements. How he makes sure I have everything I need before taking his first bite.
“Tell me about the military,” I say between bites of the most tender steak I’ve ever had. “What made you want to serve?”
“Structure, initially.” He pauses, considering. “Aunt Maeve hated the idea, but she let me choose.”
“I had always wondered.”
“Gave me purpose.” His voice gets quieter. “Also taught me what it felt like to be part of something bigger than myself. To have people depending on me.”
“Is that what you miss about it?”
“Some days. But I also got tired of temporary. Everything in the military is temporary—postings, assignments, relationships. You’re always preparing for the next move.” He meets my eyes across the table. “I’m ready for something permanent.”