Chapter 5 - Kendry
KENDRY
Eating at a rough-hewn table by the windows, Bear sprawled at our feet, we talked about everything except Derek and broken-down cars from that point on.
Calder told me about growing up in Big Sky, about how he’d left for college in Missoula but couldn’t stay away from the mountains. About the first time he’d fought a wildfire and knew, with absolute certainty, that was what he was meant to do.
I told him about my childhood in Portland, about how I fell in love with photography at fifteen when my dad gave me his old Nikon. About the teacher who encouraged me to pursue it professionally, and the series of practical decisions that led to coffee shop shifts instead of gallery shows.
“Why Seattle?” Calder asks, refilling my water glass.
“Derek got a job there, and I followed.” I say it matter-of-factly but can’t quite hide the bitterness. “Story of our relationship, honestly. He led. I followed. He decided when we’d move in together, when we’d get a dog, when he was done.”
“That’s not a partnership.”
“No,” I agree quietly, messing with the condensation on the outside of my glass. “It wasn’t. I just didn’t want to see it.” I raise my gaze to his and I see such compassion. Such honesty.
So much that I was missing with Derek. When Calder looks at me like that, I feel appreciated. I feel seen. I feel heard. So much I decided I didn’t need before. But I need it.
Calder doesn’t remove his gaze from me, his expression thoughtful. “You know what I think? I think you’re better off.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough.” He leans back in his chair, cradling his coffee mug.
“I know you drove across the country alone to make a fresh start, that’s daring to live a different life.
I know you didn’t fall apart when your car caught fire— you handled it, that’s not what a lot of people would do.
I know you’re sitting here having dinner with a stranger instead of hiding in your hotel room feeling sorry for yourself.
Those aren’t the actions of someone who needs a man to lead.
That’s a woman who is ready to take charge of her life. ”
Something warm blooms in my chest, dangerous and bright. “You got all that from a few hours?”
“I’m observant.” His mouth quirks. “Occupational hazard.”
After dinner, Calder builds up the fire while I wash dishes over his numerous and vehement protests.
But it’s the least I can do. Bear supervises me from his spot on the rug in front of the oven and Merry is like Velcro to Calder’s leg.
It’s like we’ve all lived in the same house for years not hours.
Merry has even learned what the bell on the door means.
When Bear wants to go outside, he rings it.
But I think Merry’s doing it for attention now.
Calder thinks it’s cute. I’m not quite sure what I think.
“I forgot to mention,” Calder says, hanging the dish towel to dry after drying the last pan, “we’re doing the station Christmas party tomorrow night, right after the tree lighting. It’s nothing fancy— just the crew and some town folks, pizza and beer, terrible Secret Santa gifts. You should come.”
I turn from the sink, suds still on my hands. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“You wouldn’t be intruding. Besides, you should meet people if you’re going to be stuck here for a few days.” He pauses. “Unless you’d rather not. No pressure.”
But when I look into his eyes, there’s no way I can say no. The thought of spending another evening alone, dwelling on the past and my uncertain future, makes my chest tight. And the thought of seeing Calder again makes my pulse quicken in a way I’m starting to really like.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll come.”
His smile is worth the flutter of anxiety in my stomach. “Good. Fair warning— my crew’s going to grill you about every detail of your life. They’re worse than my sister.”
“Should I be worried?”
“Terrified,” he deadpanned. “Especially of Millie. She’s our boss, and she takes no prisoners. She might rival you for fierceness.”
I like that he thinks I’m fierce. I feel fierce around him. I feel invincible.
We migrate to the couch, Bear immediately claiming the space between us with absolutely no shame. Calder puts on music —something folksy and instrumental— and we talk about nothing in particular as the fire crackles and the snow falls outside.
At some point, I realize I’m genuinely happy.
Not pretending to be something I’m not.
Not distracting myself with crossword puzzles because he’s playing video games and I need to be quiet.
Not worried about what I say or do or feel.
Just actually content in the moment, in this place, with this man and his ridiculously overbearing dog.
And it scares me.
“I should probably get back,” I say around nine-thirty, even though part of me wants to stay here forever, in this warm bubble where my future feels full of possibilities instead of uncertainty.
“Probably,” Calder agrees, but he doesn’t move immediately. “Thank you for coming, Kendry. I know today was hell for you, and you didn’t have to trust me.”
“Thank you for giving me a reason to.”
It has been a long time since I felt this comfortable and this… calm.
Calder’s eyes meet mine, and for a breathless moment, I think he might kiss me. Part of me desperately wants him to. Part of me is terrified of what it will mean if he does.
But he just stands, offering his hand to help me up, and the moment passes. The disappointment inside of me is huge.
“Come on,” he says gently. “Let’s get you back before Ester sends out a search party.”
I barely know him. I have no business feeling this pull, this mesmerizing attraction that makes me want to know everything about him— his favorite color, his coffee order, what he looked like first thing in the morning with his hair messy from sleep.
“Calder?” I say, grabbing his arm and asking him to face me with a simple tug.
“Yeah?”
“Why did you invite me to dinner? Really?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “Honestly? Because you looked like you needed someone to be kind to you. And because when I shook your hand earlier, something...” He trails off, shaking his head. “This is going to sound crazy.”
Did he feel it too?
“Tell me anyway.”
His silver eyes shine iridescent in the light of the fireplace. “It felt like coming home. You felt like coming home.”
My breath catches. “That’s not crazy.”
“No?”
“No. I… I don’t want to go, Calder. I want to stay.”
His hands cup my face. “You’re sure?”
“I mean, if you don’t want—”
His lips press to mine, not hard, but deliciously insistent.
Now this is a home I need…