Chapter 3
Three
CAITLIN
Two years later…
‘Join the military,’ they said…
‘Get your G.I. bill,’ they said…
What they didn’t say was that you would either love it or hate it – and if you hated it those six years you signed up for would feel like an eternity.
Home.
She was home.
Caitlin sighed with relief and stared at the small house she’d bought in Yonder with her V.A. loan. It was barely seven hundred square feet, but buying a house and having a mortgage was cheaper than renting an apartment – if they had apartments in Yonder.
Well, technically, her home was the land on the border of Yonder and Ember Creek. Her parents had moved to Abilene for her dad’s work, and while the thought that she could move back in with them and get her life started seemed tempting – it wasn’t where Jason was.
She served in the Navy for six years, six blood-sucking years , as a glorified receptionist in Groton, Connecticut. The only thing she really got out of those six years was a nest egg, the ability to type quickly, follow orders, and make her commanding officer’s coffee the right way – one and a half Sweet-n-Low with a splash of powdered creamer. Oh, and the intense realization that she wanted to go home, here, to Yonder.
There was no grand fanfare.
No ticker-tape parade.
She wasn’t a war hero, wasn’t a beloved member of the town; she just… was. Ruby Yonder had been from the prestigious family who’d once founded the town and now her granddaughter, Sophie Merrick, had returned, married, and set up a bed and breakfast in Ruby’s old home that she inherited.
Becca Baird was now Becca Giroux and had married some famous hockey player, bouncing between Dallas and Yonder, according to Matthew.
Matthew, who was an avid fan and always texting her photos from the games. Those text messages were certainly better than some of the other ones she’d received from her friend over the years.
Should I be worried about a rash?
Toni’s got a crush on some pilot…
I think I got a bad batch of hooch – I can’t feel my fingers. Should I go to the ER?
Whaddya think of my new tattoo?
Come home, buddy. Jason is just as grumpy as ever. You’ll love it!
“Dang it, Matthew,” she whispered to the empty house, smiling as she wrapped her arms around her in a hug. “You just had to mention Jason, didn’t you?”
The walls seemed to smile in approval as the warm wooden cabinets of the small kitchen glowed as sunlight poured in. Yes, it might not be the prettiest place, but it would be home. If she was here, maybe someday she would find someone to make her forget her horrible crush on a man who wouldn’t give her the time of day.
Nope.
It was time to discover who Caitlin was now as an adult.
No running around barefoot in town, no riding bikes or hitch-hiking in pickup trucks with friends in the small town. She had lost herself to the military, subduing every ounce of personality within her, and that was bursting to get free now. She wanted to learn a hobby, wanted to make a quilt. She wanted to freakin’ bake yummy goods because she could and no one would harass her about passing her PT exams or tell her to get a different size uniform because her buttons were popping… because she finally got boobs.
The flat-chested tomboy… had blossomed.
“Can we say ‘late bloomer’ boys and girls?” Caitlin chuckled, setting her rucksack on the floor of the living room and looking around. “Looks like I need to get a few pieces of furniture, figure out where my next check is coming from, and get the lay of the land again… I cannot believe Yonder has a McDonald’s now. Wow . The town is really growing.”
Getting her cell phone out, she texted Matthew.
Hey – grab two burgers, any chair you see on the side of the road between the farm and Pecan Street – and get over here! I’m finally home!
No kidding?
Duuuuuude – I am soooo on my way.
She could practically hear him say the word ‘dude’ in her mind, knowing he would drag out the word dramatically to get his point across. Wasn’t that the sign of a best friend – when you could hear them despite the miles?
Double with cheese?
You know it.
Strawberry milkshake?
Only if it brings all the boys to the yard…
I’m a boy!
Get the shake, then!
(You barely count, bro – no offense)
(none taken!)
Caitlin’s phone buzzed again, the screen lighting up with another of Matthew’s texts, and she couldn’t help the burst of laughter that escaped her lips. She pressed a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking with the force of it. Her best friend had always known how to make her laugh, but now, with the distance and time that had passed, it felt different. The texts, full of inside jokes and memories of their shared childhood, brought a warmth that Caitlin had been craving for a long time. It wasn’t just a simple friendship anymore. No, this was something more complicated, something deeper.
Matthew had changed. It was obvious. Caitlin’s heart fluttered in a way that confused her. The carefree guy she had grown up with, the one who had always been there to share a laugh or talk about the future, was now… different. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it was like he had come into his own. The scruffy hair he had let grow out now framed his face in a wild, untamed way, and the tattoos he’d collected over the years told stories she hadn’t heard yet, stories that were his and his alone.
And then there was the matter of his relationships—or rather, his lack of them, at least with her. He'd gone through a parade of girls, each one a fleeting distraction, leaving Caitlin to wonder, with an odd mix of curiosity and jealousy, why he couldn’t look at her the way he looked at them.
Not that she wanted him to.
Not really.
But the difference between the boy she had once shared everything with and the man he had become was sharp. And yet, despite the changes, Matthew was still the person she could reach out to, the one who made her feel like she wasn’t entirely alone in the world.
The thought made her chest tighten, a strange sadness filling her as her thumb hovered over the keys to respond. But before she could send anything back, her mind wandered to another place, another time. The memory of their first kiss flashed like a slap in the face.
Her junior prom. The gymnasium was buzzing with the frenetic energy of a hundred teenagers, all trying to figure out how they were supposed to be adults. Caitlin remembered it vividly—how Matthew had kissed her. Not because he wanted to but because she’d insisted. She couldn’t even say why. Maybe it was because everyone was whispering, teasing, making up stories about them. Everyone had assumed they were secretly in love, that they were destined for more than just friendship. Caitlin had wanted to shut those rumors down. She had wanted to be sure.
There was nothing.
No spark. No fizzle. Zilch.
It wasn’t an explosion of feelings, no spark igniting inside her chest. It was dull. Flat. The way two people who had been friends for far too long could kiss and somehow feel… nothing.
She could still hear the awkward chuckle that had followed, the relief in his eyes mirrored in hers. They had laughed together, but it wasn’t the joyous laughter of old friends—it was the sound of something breaking. A silent agreement that they were never meant to be anything more than what they had always been.
Friends.
Nothing more.
But that kiss had marked something for Caitlin. As much as she had tried to convince herself otherwise, it had only deepened the longing she had always felt for someone else—the one person she couldn’t have.
Jason – Matthew’s brother.
The man who barely tolerated her presence in the past made her feel like she was invisible no matter how hard she had tried. The man who seemed to hate her for reasons she couldn’t understand. She had tried everything and had put herself out there in ways that would have exhausted anyone else. When his father passed, she had flown home to be here for the funeral. When Becca got married, she sent flowers immediately. She’d given Jason space, offered him silent support when he needed it, and even tried to be the soft place to land when any of the family was hurting.
But it didn’t matter. Nothing worked.
Jason didn’t see her.
Caitlin exhaled slowly, the weight of that truth pressing down on her chest.
She had been in Texas for three weeks now, waiting for the house she’d bought online to close, and today was a day to celebrate. Connecticut had never felt like home, but this—this was. This place, this town, was where she was going to start her new life. No more being the girl who wasn’t enough for anyone. No more waiting around for Jason to finally notice her. She had made the decision. It was time for her to be someone else, someone new.
In fact, she had accepted a job an hour ago at Pizza Palace simply to have a steady check coming in that did not involve typing or making some jerks coffee on a daily basis. Yup. She wanted to be her own person, let her hair down, and discover what life had to offer in Yonder.
Without Jason Baird in it.
* * *
Six months had passed, and Caitlin was beginning to carve out a life for herself in ways she hadn’t imagined possible back then. The quiet hum of her sewing machine was a constant companion, the soft clinking of her scissors a rhythmic comfort.
She had made her small two-bedroom house into a sanctuary, each corner filled with the things that brought her peace. The old table she’d bought from a yard sale stood at the center of it all, its weathered surface now serving as the base for her sewing machine. It was a symbol of her new beginning.
Fabrics—rich, textured, and colorful—lined the shelves in neat, orderly rows, a far cry from the chaos that had consumed her life just months ago. Her dress mannequin stood in the corner, a silent witness to her endless creativity, its shape like an echo of her own hidden desires. Pins were scattered around it, glinting like tiny promises of the dresses she would create, the future she would build. Cardboard was fastened to the wall just so—an impromptu pinboard to which she attached sketches, ideas, and snippets of fabric, anything to help her visualize her dreams.
Caitlin would stand back, arms crossed, eyes focused on her work, the glow of the afternoon sun spilling in through the windows. It was in these moments of quiet reflection that she allowed herself to imagine a life beyond the confines of her past.
But the living room, despite her best efforts, was still a work in progress. The couch was worn, the cushions well-loved. There was a stack of books on the coffee table, some half-read, some untouched for days. But it wasn’t the living room that made this house feel like home. It was the kitchen.
The kitchen was everything.
Though small, the room seemed to radiate warmth, each corner infused with the memories of every meal she’d ever cooked in it. The smell of dough rising, of bread baking in the oven, became her constant comfort. Pizza Palace had given her not just a job but an appreciation for the magic of flour, water, and yeast coming together.
Her favorite part of the day was feeding her starter, affectionately named “ Mary Dough .” She’d whisper to it as she added flour and water, checking on it each morning with the tenderness of a mother tending to a child. “You’re looking strong today,” she’d say softly, almost as if Mary Dough could hear her. It wasn’t just about the bread—it was about nurturing something from scratch, watching it grow and transform into something tangible. Something that could provide.
Her garden outside was growing, too. Slowly but surely, the little plot of earth she’d carved out had begun to take shape, her herbs and vegetables thriving under her care. She could taste the freshness of the tomatoes she’d picked herself, the warmth of the earth still clinging to the roots. It grounded her, tied her to this world in a way that felt meaningful like she was contributing to something bigger than herself. Sometimes, as she pulled the weeds from the soil or watered the tender shoots, Caitlin would wonder if Jason ever felt that same connection to the land. To the farm he had worked on his whole life. She wondered if it gave him the same sense of purpose. But it didn’t matter, not anymore.
Matthew had invited her to the farm a few times—casual invitations to join them for a cookout, to see the baby chicks, or just to come for a ride. But each time, Caitlin had politely declined. She couldn’t bring herself to step onto that land, not when it felt like stepping into a battlefield where the past still lingered. Not when Jason was there.
She could still remember the way he looked at her the last time they’d spoken—cold and distant, as if she was a stranger. The hurt had sliced through her with the sharpness of a knife, but she’d done her best to swallow it. To bury it deep, where it wouldn’t surface again. Jason didn’t want her there. And she had no right to force her way into his life, not when he had made it so clear that she wasn’t wanted.
So, she worked.
She sewed and baked and created.
Each dress she made, each loaf of bread she pulled from the oven, was a small act of defiance against the gnawing ache that still pulsed in her chest. She poured herself into these things because they brought her joy. They filled the emptiness, at least for a while.
But the truth was, Caitlin could never fully escape the pull of Jason Baird. No matter how many pretty aprons she designed, no matter how many loaves of bread she baked, no matter how many sunsets she watched from her little porch, the memory of him—his face, his voice, the way he had protected her that day, the look in his eyes because Matthew had mistakenly put her in harm’s way—haunted her. She had tried so hard to convince herself that she hated him for pushing her away, for not even attempting a chance at friendship. But there was no hate. Only the aching, hollow longing for the man she couldn’t have.
So, she kept moving forward, crafting a life without him in it. A life that, for all its simplicity and small joys, still felt incomplete.
And incredibly lonely.