Chapter 17
I wake up feeling full of hope. Sam’s still asleep next to me, so I quietly slip out of the bed to shower and dress. When I pad into the kitchen, Phern is sitting at the island, reading a book.
“Hi.”
She smiles. “Hi. Sam still asleep?”
I pour myself a cup of coffee and nod. “Yeah.”
She snorts. “He never sleeps in. You’re a good influence on him.”
I smile into my coffee mug, cheeks flushing just a little. “I think I wore him out.”
She closes her book and sets it aside, eyeing me with an expression that’s almost fond. It’s the softest she’s looked at me since I got here. No suspicion. No edge. Just that kind of quiet appraisal that says she’s seeing me and not the version she assumed I was.
“You look different this morning,” she says. “Lighter.”
“I feel different. Hopeful, I guess.”
She hums, considering. “It’s funny, you know. I always thought if Sam ever opened himself up again, it’d be to someone quiet. Safe. Predictable.”
“Thanks?” I laugh, half amused, half uncertain.
“I mean it in a good way,” she says, waving a hand. “You’re none of those things. You are fire and instinct. And maybe that’s exactly what he needed.”
I glance toward the hallway, where the bedroom door is still shut. “He’s something.”
“That he is,” she says softly. “But you’ve already seen that.”
We sip our coffee in companionable silence for a moment.
Then, almost too casually, she asks, “You gonna stay?”
My breath catches slightly, the question heavier than her tone makes it sound. I set my mug down, heart thudding.
“I don’t know yet,” I admit. “But for the first time I want to consider it.”
Phern nods slowly, lips pressing into a thoughtful line. “That’s fair.”
Before I can say more, the sound of footsteps creaks down the hallway. I turn, and there he is. Shirtless, hair a mess, and eyes still soft with sleep. He sees me and his whole face shifts, warming like I’m the first sun he’s seen in days.
Phern stands, grabbing her book again. “I’ll go make myself scarce,” she mutters, pretending not to smile as she disappears into the other room.
Sam walks up behind me, pressing a kiss to the side of my neck.
“Morning, darlin’,” he murmurs, voice rough.
I lean back into him.
“Morning.”
“Woke up alone.” He stares down at me. “Didn’t like it. ”
The honesty in his words pulls at something in my chest.
I turn, pulling his head down for a kiss.
“Won’t happen again.”
“Good.”
We kiss again, and I know I’m about to be swept away. A shrill ring breaks into our bubble.
“Satellite phone,” Sam murmurs as he crosses the kitchen, grabbing the device. “This is Sam.” He listens and then says, “See you at the bridge.”
“Everything okay?”
“Liam said the road to town is clear. If we get to the bridge, he’ll take us into town.”
My heart skips. The road’s clear.
“Liam will meet us at the bridge in an hour,” Sam says, slipping the phone back onto the counter. “We’ll take my truck down and leave it parked on this side. It’s too risky to take it across until they reinforce the bridge.”
I nod slowly, setting my mug down with a soft clink.
He watches me, eyes narrowing just slightly as if he’s aware of the storm brewing inside me.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I should be.” I exhale, pressing a hand to the counter to steady myself. “This is good news.”
“It is.” He walks back over to me, cupping the side of my face with his calloused palm. “But?”
I lean into his touch, eyes fluttering shut for half a second before I speak. “But it feels like we’re opening a door neither of us knows how to walk through.”
His thumb brushes my cheek. “Then we figure it out together.”
God. He makes it sound so simple.
“I want that,” I whisper. “I really do. ”
“Then come with me,” he says. “To town. Let’s face it head-on.”
He leans in again, kissing me like it’s a vow, not a question. And for the first time since the storm, I don’t feel like I’m on borrowed time.
I feel like I’ve found something.
When he pulls back, I look up at him and say, “Well then, cowboy, guess I better find some real pants.”
He grins. “Or just wear mine. I’m partial to you in my clothes.”
I laugh, and it’s light this time. “I’ll think about it.”
“I’ll let Phern know the bridge is clear while you change. She’s dying to get out of this house.”
I nod and head to the bedroom where I find my leggings. It feels strange putting them on, which is why I keep Sam’s flannel on. I slide into Gwen’s boots and look at my reflection in the mirror. I look good. Happy.
I study myself for a second longer, surprised by the woman looking back at me. Something’s changed. There’s a softness in my eyes I haven’t seen in maybe years. A glow that has nothing to do with makeup or lighting.
I smile at my reflection, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I look like someone who’s been kissed good and hard by a man who means it.
But then I think about what’s waiting for me in town. A beat of panic flutters in my chest. Work, deadlines, and the life I left behind. But then I take a breath.
One thing at a time.
Right now, the bridge is clear. The road to town is open. And I’m walking into it not just as Charlotte Wilson, the entertainment reporter. But as a woman who’s finally stopped running.
I meet Sam and Phern in the kitchen .
Sam smiles. “I see half my clothes made the cut.”
I do a quick twirl and say, “Well, I didn’t want to send the rumor mill into a frenzy if I showed up on all your clothes.”
Phern says, “Good thinking. That’s the last thing we need.” She glances at the watch on her wrist. “Let’s go.”
We put on our coats and head to the truck. Sam opens the front door for me before opening the back door for Phern. Once we’re seated, he rounds the truck and climbs in. The drive to the bridge doesn’t take long. On the other side Liam waits in his own truck, waving at us.
Liam hops out as we pull up, his grin wide under a ball cap. He tosses a hand up in a mock salute as we stop just shy of the bridge.
Sam kills the engine, glancing at me before he gets out. “You ready?”
I nod, my hand already on the door handle. “Let’s do it.”
When I step down, the wind bites at my cheeks, but I don’t care. It’s bright and alive out here. And on the other side of that bridge? Everything waiting to catch up with me.
Liam saunters over, gaze flicking between the three of us. “Truck’s gassed and warm. Got some music playing. And I brought snacks.”
“Snacks?” Phern asks.
He grins. “It’s two-hours round trip, and I know how cranky you get.”
“Touché,” she mutters, climbing into Liam’s truck without another word.
Sam steps in front of me, his hand finding my waist. His eyes search mine with that quiet focus that always makes it feel like he sees everything.
“You sure you want to do this?”
I glance past him at the road, at the world I’d left behind without warning, at the future barreling toward us whether we’re ready or not.
Then I look back at him.
“I want to do it with you.”
He exhales like that’s all he needed to hear, then brushes a kiss to my temple.
“Then let’s go,” he says softly.
We walk across the bridge hand-in-hand, the wood damp beneath our boots and the wind tugging at my borrowed flannel.
When we reach the truck, Sam opens the back door for me like the damn gentleman he is and climbs in right after.
The bench seat isn’t wide, but it doesn’t matter.
We sit pressed together, thigh to thigh, his fingers immediately lacing with mine again like they belong there.
We don’t let go.
Not once on the drive.
Liam’s got the heat blasting and the radio humming low, but it’s the sound of him and Phern bickering that fills the cab.
“Lordy,” Liam drawls. “I know it’s been killing you. No Wi-Fi for a week? How could you possibly stalk Will without it?”
Phern’s cheeks go bright red. “I do not stalk Will! We mutually follow each other on three platforms and occasionally comment. It’s called a digital friendship, you hayseed.”
I cover my mouth to hide the grin, but Sam doesn’t even try. He’s openly laughing beside me, his arm resting casually along the back of the seat like it’s always meant to be there.
“Be careful, Liam Stone,” Phern adds, eyes narrowing. “People in glass houses shouldn’t cast stones.”
“Okay, Grandma Stone,” Liam laughs. “Drink your prune juice and relax. ”
I lean in toward Sam, my voice low. “Who’s Will again?”
His grin is amused. “My best friend. Phern had the biggest crush on him when she was ten. Used to write poetry about him. Liam found it and has been torturing her ever since.”
“Ah,” I murmur, delighted.
Liam catches my eye in the mirror. “We were raised like siblings. Teasing is our love language.”
Phern huffs dramatically and cranks the volume. A familiar song floods the cab. Acoustic guitar, a steady beat, and a weather-worn voice crooning about heartbreak and pickup trucks.
I glance at Sam, heart kicking up. “I like this one.”
He raises a brow. “Even though it’s about a divorce and a dead dog?”
I laugh, nudging his shoulder. “I like the feeling of it. It sounds honest.”
Phern glances over her shoulder. “Tell Charlotte how you haven’t written a damn thing since your own divorce, Sam.”
Liam groans like he’s been stabbed. “Read the room, cousin.”
Sam just shakes his head, but there’s no tension in him. If anything, he looks relaxed. “I’ve had a line or two floatin’ around in my head,” he says softly.
“Oh yeah?” I ask, turning more fully toward him, curious.
His eyes meet mine, warm and steady. “I was inspired by some white boots with little blue flowers on them.”
My heart stumbles in my chest.
“You remember those?”
His smile is slow and devastating. “Darlin’, I’ll never forget ’em. ”
Liam groans again. “God. Can you two not? I’m trying to drive without crashing from secondhand sexual tension.”
Phern quips, “Maybe if you got laid, you wouldn’t be so uptight.”
The truck erupts into laughter. But through it all Sam’s hand stays wrapped around mine.
We finally roll into Broken Heart Creek.