Chapter 15
Fifteen
CAITLIN
Tonight.
It had to be tonight.
Caitlin felt the weight of her emotions pressing against her ribs, making it harder to breathe as she paced the length of her small living room. She was going to tell Jason how she felt. Finally. The realization sent a tremor of excitement through her, quickly chased by the kind of bone-deep fear that made her fingertips cold.
Because what if he didn’t say it back?
They had been drifting toward something more for weeks now, maybe even months. It was in the way he touched her—not just casually, but with intent. In the way he sought her out, like she was the first person he thought of when something funny happened or when he needed to rant about his day. It was in the way he looked at her, and heaven help her, Caitlin had never wanted anything more in her life than for Jason Baird to love her the way she loved him.
And tonight was perfect.
He had planned a night under the stars, complete with a picnic and a brand-new telescope to watch the lunar eclipse together. Jason wasn’t the type to do things without meaning. He didn’t buy telescopes for just anyone. He didn’t make thoughtful, romantic plans unless they mattered .
She wrapped her arms around herself, swallowing down the nervous energy bubbling up inside her. This was it. A night drenched in moonlight, a confession whispered into the night air, and—if everything went right—the start of something neither of them would ever forget.
But first, they had work to do.
Jason had asked her to help him tackle his mother’s old sunflower garden—her beloved pride and joy before she passed. It had gone untouched for years, wild and overgrown, a ghost of what it used to be. Caitlin had memories of running through that field as a girl, the massive golden blooms towering over her, their heavy heads swaying in the breeze. She remembered plucking the seeds, the salt on her fingertips, the laughter ringing in the air. It had been tradition .
And Jason was bringing it back.
Something about that made her chest ache.
It felt like a gift, though she knew better than to think he was doing it for her .
“Don’t be silly,” she murmured to herself, tucking her hair behind her ear. “This was his mother’s thing. He’s honoring her memory, not making some grand romantic gesture.”
And yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that it meant more than that.
A sharp knock on the front door startled her, making her heart stutter. She swore under her breath, pressing a hand to her chest before moving to answer it.
The second she opened the door, Jason’s easy, lopsided smile nearly wrecked her.
Gosh, he was unfair. All scruffy jawline and broad shoulders, standing on her porch like he had every right to take up space in her heart. He wore a simple T-shirt that stretched across his chest, jeans that hung just right, and that darn smile —the one that made her stomach drop straight to her feet.
Her mouth went dry.
She wanted to say it right then and there. I love you, Jason Baird. She wanted to blurt it out, let it spill between them like something wild and uncontrollable, because how could she not love him? But no. Not here. Not now.
This wasn’t the moment.
She wanted it to be unforgettable. A baring of souls beneath the stars. The kind of moment that made time stop . And she had waited this long—what was a few more hours?
So, instead, she took a breath, pushed her heart down into the depths of her ribcage, and smiled .
“Are you ready to go?” Jason asked, his voice warm, steady.
“Yes,” she said, and when he held out his hand, she didn’t hesitate.
She placed her fingers in his, feeling the roughness of his palm, the solid warmth of him. He gave her a slight squeeze, a simple gesture that sent a thrill up her spine, and she let herself believe— just for a second —that maybe this day would be as perfect as she imagined.
And she couldn’t have been more wrong.
* * *
The golden afternoon sunlight stretched lazily across the fields, casting long shadows as Jason and Caitlin stood together, wrapped in the easy rhythm of shared work. A gentle breeze rustled the towering sunflowers, their wilted heads bowing like old men nodding off in the warmth. In the distance, their horses meandered, tails flicking at unseen flies as they grazed, the occasional snort breaking the tranquil silence. Birds called overhead, a harmony of chirps and trills, filling the vast expanse of sky that stretched endless and blue above them.
Jason wielded his father’s old, wickedly serrated knife, hacking away at the massive sunflower canes that loomed over them. Caitlin, standing nearby, gathered the discarded heads, tossing them into a growing pile where they’d later sort the best ones for harvesting. The rest would be tilled back into the earth, making way for new growth.
"I still remember your dad doing this," Caitlin murmured, watching Jason swing the blade with a grunt of effort.
Jason let out a rough laugh, pausing to swipe his forearm across his forehead. "I do, too. I don’t remember him struggling as much as I am." He gave the knife an annoyed glance before returning to the task.
"It’ll come," she said, offering a patient smile.
“I know.” He exhaled, his gaze softening as he looked at her. “Thanks for coming out here. This means a lot to me, and I know it seems nostalgic, but I want those memories back. When we talked about them before, I forgot just how wonderful it was, and I think you’re the perfect person to share this with.”
A warmth unfurled in Caitlin’s chest at his words, unexpected yet welcome. She ducked her head, unable to fight the shy smile tugging at her lips. "I'm glad you feel that way."
Jason nodded, slicing through another sunflower head with a decisive flick of his wrist. "I do. I really like being out here with you and am so glad you’re able to spend as much time with me as you can. I know I’m pulling you away from your time with Matthew, but?—"
"Matthew understands that things are changing."
Jason hesitated, the blade hovering mid-swing before he brought it down hard. "I hope so," he muttered. "He’s my brother and always will be."
Caitlin blinked, momentarily thrown by his tone. Did he think she was leaving Matthew behind? That wasn't what family did. She and Matthew had always been close, and Jason—well, he was Matthew’s actual brother. He should know better.
"Just because things change doesn’t mean that it’s a bad thing," she hedged, studying him carefully.
Jason gave a noncommittal grunt, slicing through another cane with more force than necessary. "Change is good—until it’s not. Then you just pivot."
Caitlin frowned, an odd sense of unease creeping up her spine. Something about the way he said it… like he wasn’t just talking about sunflowers and family. "Right," she said slowly, the breeze carrying her voice away. "When things go badly, you just pivot and make the changes you need to."
Jason turned his head slightly, as if he wanted to say something more, but instead, he changed the subject. "Oh hey, I meant to ask—did Harley like the bread?"
The sudden shift made Caitlin blink, but she went with it. "Yeah, she did."
"Think we can do anything with the sunflower seeds from this mess?" Jason asked, gesturing to the pile of discarded heads. "Maybe use them in another loaf? I mentioned to Toni that I helped, and I don’t think she believed me."
Caitlin smirked. "Her loss."
"Right?" Jason chuckled, winking. "I had a nice time spending the day with you and spanking the loaf." He waggled his eyebrows playfully.
Caitlin groaned, rolling her eyes. "You’re never gonna let that go, are you?"
"Not a chance." He grinned. "I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Plus, it’d be nice to use up some of this."
"I could chop some of the kernels, maybe…" she mused, absently brushing stray sunflower dust from her jeans.
Jason nodded. "I bet it would give it a different taste."
"Different might not be good," she pointed out. "It might add too much oil to the mixture too. I’m not sure, we’d have to try it or?—"
A sudden gust of wind whipped through the field, yanking at their clothes and nearly sending Jason’s hat flying. Caitlin’s hair blew into her eyes, momentarily blinding her. The metallic rattle of something—beans in an aluminum pie plate?—prickled at her subconscious.
Then she heard Jason’s guttural yell.
"Caitlin!"
The world lurched into slow motion. The breeze died. Her gaze dropped just in time to see it—moving, slithering, coiling with deadly precision.
Not a stick.
A rattlesnake.
A flash of movement. A strike.
A piercing, razor-sharp sensation exploded across the top of her foot, a searing pain so intense it sent a shockwave through her entire body. A hiss of breath left her lips as her mind scrambled to catch up, to process.
I’ve just been bitten…
The thought barely formed before panic slammed into her chest like a freight train. Her vision blurred, her heartbeat a wild, erratic drum against her ribs. They were in the middle of nowhere, on the farm, in the middle of God’s country.
Jason was already moving. His knife flew, spinning end-over-end before embedding itself in the ground near the snake. Maybe it would be enough to make it slither in another direction away from them? She didn’t want him to feel this pain, to end up getting bitten too. In the same breath, he was grabbing her, yanking her back, shielding her from another strike.
She wanted to ask something—anything. " What do I do?" "Do we have antivenom in the saddlebags?" "Should we make a tourniquet?"
But her lips wouldn’t move. Her brain wouldn’t cooperate. She was completely shocked and horrified.
I’m going to die in front of Jason…
“Jason… I think it bit me," she whispered, voice distant, detached from her own body.
Jason’s hands tightened on her arms, his expression turning fierce, frantic. "You think or you know ?" His voice was rough, edged with something that made her stomach twist—fear.
"It burns… my foot feels like someone scalded me…"
Jason cursed under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck as he scanned the field, his mind racing. The horses had backed away, ears flicking in unease. The snake was still coiled, motionless now, its threat lingering in the charged air between them.
And Jason cursed angrily, rubbing the back of his neck and looking around, before looking back at her. She never saw the snake against the dirt and debris from the dead sunflowers.
He grabbed his phone, gripping it so hard his knuckles turned white, dialing 911 in a rush. "My girlfriend got bit by a rattlesnake. We’re in the field." His voice was sharp, urgent - panicking. "I’m gonna get her down to the road… uh-huh… yeah… no tourniquet… gotcha."
The pain surged, white-hot, rolling over her in unbearable waves. It clawed its way up her leg, sharp and unrelenting. Jason was looking around him in a panic, still on the phone, walking one of the horses toward her where she stood. It was like they were talking about someone else because this couldn’t be happening to her.
Not to her.
Not today.
A sharp, searing pain ripped through her leg, turning her blood to fire. The world around her tilted, blurred at the edges, but she refused to accept it. Not yet. Not like this. He was tugging at the horse who didn’t want to come any closer – and she understood.
Things were going south… fast.
“I love you,” she whispered, the words barely making it past her lips. They trembled in the air, fragile and desperate, as she felt her body betray her—locking up, rebelling against her will. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, and she saw Jason turn back to her. His sharp, alert gaze landed on her, and the second their eyes met, all the color drained from his face.
Panic. Raw and unfiltered.
“ NO! ”
The word ripped through the air like a gunshot, sharp and commanding. Jason was on her in an instant, his hands gripping her shoulders—strong, unyielding, desperate. His touch was fire and ice all at once, grounding her even as the world around her spun out of control.
"Caitlin! Catnip, sweetheart , you gotta hang on." His voice was raw, frayed at the edges, with something dangerously close to panic. "I know it hurts, but?—"
A strangled, gasping cry escaped her lips as another wave of agony crashed over her, stealing what little breath she had left. Her knees buckled, the ground tilting beneath her like she was tumbling into some dark, endless void. But Jason didn’t let her fall. His arms banded around her, solid as steel, anchoring her to something real, something safe.
She wanted to tell him she was fine. That this wasn’t happening. That she could shake it off like she always did. But the words wouldn’t come. Logic was slipping through her fingers like sand, washed away by the blinding pain twisting up from her foot, clawing at her calf, her thigh—sinking its merciless teeth into her very bones.
It felt like her sneaker had turned into a vise, crushing her inch by inch, strangling the breath from her lungs. She tried to inhale, but it caught in her throat, too tight, too shallow. Stars danced in her vision.
Jason’s grip tightened, his arms shifting as he scooped her up like she weighed nothing. She barely registered the motion.
Jason never got scared. Not like this.
"I've got you," he swore, and she believed him. Because Jason had never let her fall before, and she knew, deep in her bones, he wouldn’t start now.
Then suddenly, she was being tossed onto Bluebell’s back, the horse beneath her shifting wildly, sensing the chaos, sensing the fear. Caitlin barely managed to stay upright, her body sagging, her fingers gripping the reins weakly.
Bluebell was Toni’s favorite, the gentlest of horses—yet now she pranced and whinnied, her hooves stamping in agitation. She knew something was wrong. Jason was beside her, his voice low and urgent as he tried to calm the animal. His hands were everywhere—adjusting her, steadying her, keeping her from slipping away completely.
Then he was behind her, his warmth solid against her back, and they were moving.
The world jolted with every hoofbeat. The pain flared with every motion. Time stretched, warping and slowing, each second dragging like molasses. She felt herself slipping, losing the battle against the fire racing through her body.
Jason held her fast.
"Jason—" Her voice cracked, barely a whisper.
"Nope. Don’t talk," he ordered, sharp, firm. But beneath it, there was something softer. Frantic.
The world blurred. Sounds faded—voices, movement, everything dimming to a distant hum. The only thing that remained was the relentless, throbbing pain and Jason. She barely noticed the hands on her, the voices that flitted in and out of her awareness, distant and unimportant. They asked her questions—urgent, desperate questions—but she couldn’t answer. Couldn’t even think. Warmth prickled up her arm, cutting through the icy edges of her pain.
Somewhere in the haze, she felt someone holding her hand.
Strong. Solid. Familiar.
She would know him anywhere.
Jason.
* * *
A slow, rhythmic beeping pulsed somewhere in the distance, a steady metronome that tethered her to consciousness. Caitlin floated somewhere between the dark abyss of sleep and the harsh sting of reality, her body sluggish and leaden, her mind sluggishly piecing itself back together. The sterile scent of antiseptic clung to the air, mingling with something more familiar—his scent.
Jason was here for her.
She fought against the heaviness in her limbs, wincing as awareness brought pain rushing in. Everything ached, her body bruised and battered, as if she’d been chewed up and spit out by some malevolent force. But none of it compared to the desperate, broken sigh that reached her ears. The sound cracked something deep in her chest, a raw agony that had nothing to do with her injuries.
“Hey…” she whispered, barely audible, but it carried the weight of everything she wanted to say. I’m here. I’m alive. I’m okay. Even though none of those things felt completely true.
Warmth surrounded her hand. His fingers slid over hers, strong yet trembling, his grip tightening as if anchoring himself to her presence. His touch was fire and solace, a silent vow whispered through skin-to-skin contact. Before she could fully process it, another hand found hers, gentler, trembling with unspoken emotions.
Matthew.
“God put ‘butt-bells’ on the ‘nope-rope’ for a reason, you know,” Matthew choked out, his voice thick with unshed tears.
A weak laugh barely ghosted past her lips, but even that small movement felt exhausting. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know the difference between the two men beside her. One was comfort. The other was home. She had always known it, down to the very marrow of her being.
Jason was hers.
He had been since the moment she’d looked into his eyes and seen everything—his soul, his fears, his love, just like today. Even without sight, she could read him like a well-worn book, could feel the weight of his grief pressing against her skin. He had lost too much already. His mother. His father. And now, he had nearly lost her.
The thought made her throat tighten, but she swallowed against the wave of emotion, turning her head in his direction. A small, tired smile touched her lips.
“I’m gonna be late for our date,” she whispered, voice raspy but teasing.
Jason sucked in a sharp, ragged breath, the kind that sounded like a man being shattered and barely holding himself together.
From the foot of the bed, Toni’s voice broke through the thick air. “Everyone out.”
Matthew’s fingers slipped from hers, and before she could mourn the loss of her friend’s touch, something warm and wet splashed against her skin.
A tear. His.
Then Jason moved.
He folded forward, pressing his head against her chest, and for the first time since she had known him, he shattered.
His shoulders shook, his breath uneven and ragged, his grip on her unrelenting as if letting go meant losing her all over again. The weight of him wasn’t heavy; it was grounding, devastating in the way a man could break without making a sound.
She had seen fear in his eyes before, but never like this.
He had seen death too many times.
And she had nearly become another ghost in his past.
Her throat burned, but she forced her arms to move, slipping her fingers into his hair, stroking through the thick strands. The tenderness in the gesture was all she could offer. Words weren’t enough, and her body wasn’t capable of much more than this, but it was enough to let him know— I’m here. I came back to you.
The weight of the moment pressed against them, thick with emotion neither of them could verbalize. So instead, she let silence speak, let her touch remind him of everything they were, everything they would be.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours. She wasn’t sure.
And then, because humor was as much a part of them as love, she murmured, “Can we get a dog?”
Jason stilled against her before a broken, tearful chuckle rumbled from his chest. He lifted his head just enough to look at her, his eyes red-rimmed and glistening, the ghost of a smile teasing his lips.
“A big ‘fraidy dog who barks at everything,” she continued, the words slurred with exhaustion.
“Catnip, you can have whatever you want… just be okay for me.”
“I am.”
His jaw clenched, his fingers twitching against hers. “You weren’t.” The words were hoarse, filled with the kind of emotion that left scars on a person’s soul. He buried his face against her again, not in desire but in desperation, in relief, in something deeper than words could express.
Her protector.
Her love.
The weight of everything—the fear, the pain, the raw emotion—pressed down on her like a suffocating tide. It was too much. Too heavy. But he was here. Solid. Unshakable. A presence so fierce it held her together when she felt like she might shatter into a million irreparable pieces.
“Thank you for being there for me,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath, yet laced with the kind of vulnerability that could bring even the strongest man to his knees.
She heard him inhale sharply, the quiet tremor in his breath betraying the emotions he was fighting to rein in. A rough sniffle. A throat clearing. The controlled exhale of a man pulling himself back together, brick by careful brick, even as she could feel the unspoken weight in the silence between them.
She knew him better than anyone. Knew his pride. His resilience. Knew that, for him, tears weren’t a weakness—but letting her see them might be.
So she kept her eyes closed, granting him those few precious seconds to rebuild his walls, to reclaim the steadiness she knew he needed to offer her.
“I love you,” she breathed, the words an anchor for herself as much as for him. A salve for the raw ache in her heart. A whispered plea to mend something fragile between them.
His answering breath was uneven, but his touch was sure as he leaned in, pressing the warmest, softest kiss to her forehead. It was reverent. A vow. A silent declaration that he wasn’t going anywhere.
“I know,” he murmured against her skin, his voice a caress, a thread of tenderness woven through the steel of his resolve. “I think I’ve always known.”
A lump rose in her throat, thick with emotion, as she forced her exhausted body to relax against the pillows. She was so tired. But she fought against it, fought against the darkness tugging at the edges of her consciousness, because she didn’t want to let go—not yet.
“Just close your eyes,” he urged, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a slow, soothing rhythm. “Rest. Don’t worry about a thing.” A pause. A breath. Then, softer, “We’ll have the rest of our lives to have those picnics under the stars together.”
A weak, wry smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “You promise?”
“I swear it.”
She sighed, the sound full of trust, of quiet surrender, as her fingers curled around his like a lifeline. He was here. He wasn’t leaving. And she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that if the world burned around them, he’d still be sitting beside her, holding her hand like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.
There was nothing quite so potent, so beautiful, or so achingly simple as belonging to someone. Not just in words, but in the marrow-deep certainty that no force in the universe could shake it.
And that was him.
Her safe place.
I’m simply yours, she thought, succumbing to the exhaustion clawing at her.