Chapter 3 - Kelly
three
Kelly
I wake up to the sound of someone moving around downstairs. For a moment, I'm disoriented – then I remember. Callum stayed to watch over me last night after the pumpkin incident.
When I pad downstairs in my pajamas and bare feet, I find him in the kitchen, already dressed for the day in work boots and a flannel shirt. He's standing at the counter with a cup of coffee, and there are dark circles under his eyes that suggest he didn't get much sleep.
"Morning," I say, suddenly self-conscious about my messy hair and the fact that I'm not wearing a bra under my sleep shirt.
Callum's eyes do a quick sweep of my body before he looks away, his jaw tightening. "Morning. Coffee's fresh."
"Thank you." I pour myself a cup and add cream. "Did you sleep okay? That chair in the hallway can't be comfortable."
"It was fine."
Of course he says that. Callum would probably say he was fine if he was bleeding out on the side of the road.
"I checked the porch this morning," he continues. "No sign of whoever left the pumpkin. Probably just kids like I said."
I nod, taking a sip of coffee. In the bright light of morning, last night's scare seems almost silly. But the memory of Callum's hands on my shoulders, the way he called me "sweetheart," makes my skin warm in a way that has nothing to do with embarrassment.
"I should get to work," Callum says, draining his coffee cup. "I've got a tree removal job on the other side of town."
"Oh." I try not to let my disappointment show. "Will you be gone all day?"
"Probably. But I'll be back before dark." His blue eyes meet mine across the kitchen. "You'll be okay?"
The question is casual, but there's an intensity behind it that makes my pulse quicken. Like he's really asking if I can handle being alone, if I trust him to come back.
"I'll be fine," I say. "I might walk into town, check out the bookstore. Maybe grab lunch at that little cafe."
Callum nods, but I can see him mentally cataloging my plans. "Keep your phone on you."
"I will."
"And if anything feels off, anything at all, you call me immediately."
"Callum, I'm just going to look at books and eat a sandwich. What could possibly—"
"Promise me." His voice drops to that growly tone that makes my stomach flutter. "I need to hear you say it."
The intensity in his expression catches me off guard. This isn't just about Halloween pranks or small-town safety. This is about something deeper, more personal.
"I promise," I say softly, and Callum's shoulders relax slightly.
"Good girl."
We both freeze. Good girl. Like he's proud of me for following his instructions. Like I've pleased him by being obedient.
Derek used to call me names too, but they were always cutting, designed to make me feel small and stupid. This is different. This makes me feel safe.
Callum's face flushes, and he grabs his work gloves from the counter. "I should go."
"Callum, wait."
But he's already heading for the door, leaving me alone in the kitchen with my racing heart and the echo of his voice saying "good girl" in that rough, approving tone.
I spend the morning puttering around the house, doing laundry and trying not to think about the way Callum looked at me when I came downstairs in my pajamas. But by noon, I'm going stir-crazy, so I change and walk into town.
Darkmore is exactly as I remember it – small, quaint, and decorated within an inch of its life for Halloween.
Orange and black bunting hangs from every storefront, carved pumpkins line the sidewalks, and there are fake spider webs draped over the old-fashioned streetlights.
It's like stepping into a Hallmark movie, complete with the smell of cinnamon and apple cider drifting from the bakery.
The Cozy Corner Bookstore is exactly what its name suggests – a tiny shop crammed with books and overstuffed armchairs, presided over by Mrs. Peters, who taught me fourth grade and apparently never forgot a single student.
"Kelly!" she exclaims when I walk through the door. "I heard you were back in town. How are you, sweetheart?"
"I'm good, Mrs. Peters. Just visiting for a few weeks."
"Well, you picked a good time. The whole town's gearing up for the Halloween festival this weekend. Are you planning to come?"
"Maybe." I hadn't really thought about it, but the idea of getting dressed up and pretending to be someone else for a night sounds appealing.
"You should! There's going to be a costume contest, and a haunted walk through the old Pioneer Cemetery.
Very atmospheric." Mrs. Peters leans closer and lowers her voice conspiratorially.
"Though between you and me, some of the teenagers have been taking the Halloween spirit a little too far lately.
Mrs. Hawkins found her garden gnomes arranged in some very inappropriate positions, if you know what I mean. "
I bite back a smile. "Teenagers will be teenagers."
"True enough. Well, you browse as long as you like, dear. I'll be in the back if you need anything."
I wander through the narrow aisles, running my fingers along the spines of well-loved books.
The romance section is tucked away in a corner, and I find myself gravitating toward it without really meaning to.
There's something comforting about the promise of happy endings, especially after the last few months.
I'm flipping through a book about a grumpy mountain man who falls for a city girl when my phone buzzes with a text.
Callum: How's town?
I stare at the message for a moment, surprised. Callum doesn't seem like the texting type.
Me: Good. Found a book about a grumpy mountain man. Very realistic.
Callum: Smart mouth.
Me: Is that your professional opinion?
Callum: Among other things.
The response makes me blush for reasons I can't entirely explain. There's something flirtatious about it, something that makes me wonder what those "other things" might be.
Me: When will you be done with work?
Callum: Few more hours. Stay where there are people.
Me: Bossy.
Callum: You have no idea.
Oh my.
I stare at the message until my cheeks are burning, then quickly shove my phone back in my pocket. Mrs. Peters gives me a knowing look from behind the counter, like she can tell exactly what kind of thoughts I'm having.
I buy the mountain man book along with two others, then head to Pinewood Cafe for lunch.
The afternoon passes pleasantly enough. I eat a turkey panini, read a few chapters of my new book, and watch the people of Darkmore go about their daily business.
It's peaceful, normal, and exactly what I need after months of walking on eggshells around Derek's moods.
By the time I walk home, the sun is starting to set, painting the mountains in shades of gold and orange. The house feels different when I unlock the front door – not empty, exactly, but expectant. Like it's waiting for Callum to come home too.
I'm making myself a cup of tea when I hear the rumble of Callum's truck in the driveway. A few minutes later, he comes through the back door, bringing the scent of pine and sawdust with him.
"How was your day?" I ask, like we're married or something. The thought makes my cheeks warm.
"Good. Productive." Callum's eyes do that quick sweep of my body again, like he's checking to make sure I'm in one piece. "No problems in town?"
"Unless you count Mrs. Peters trying to set me up with her nephew, no."
A weird jealous look flickers through Callum's expression. "Her nephew's an idiot."
"You know him?"
"Unfortunately." Callum moves to the sink to wash his hands, and I try not to stare at the way his shirt pulls tight across his back. "He's been arrested twice for public intoxication and once for trying to steal a stop sign."
"Ah. Well, I'll be sure to let Mrs. Peters know he's not my type."
"What is your type?" The question comes out casual, but there's an edge to Callum's voice that makes me look at him more carefully.
What is my type? Six months ago, I would have said Derek – charming, well-educated, ambitious. But Derek turned out to be controlling and manipulative, more interested in molding me into his ideal woman than loving me as I am.
Now, standing in this kitchen with Callum MacReady, I'm starting to think my type might be something entirely different.
"I don't know," I say honestly. "I thought I did, but I was wrong."
Callum turns to face me, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed. "What did you think you wanted?"
"Someone successful. Sophisticated. Someone who would take care of me but also challenge me to be better." I laugh, but it doesn't sound particularly amused. "Turns out there's a fine line between challenging someone and tearing them down."
"He was a jerk," Callum says flatly.
"Yeah, he was. But he wasn't wrong about everything. I do like being taken care of. I do want someone stronger than me, someone who can make decisions when I'm too overwhelmed to think straight." I'm rambling now, saying things I've never said out loud before. "Does that make me pathetic?"
"No." Callum's voice is rough, and when I look up at him, his eyes are intense. "That makes you honest about what you need."
"Derek said it made me weak."
"Derek was wrong about a lot of things." He takes a step closer. "Knowing what you need and asking for it? That takes strength, Kelly. Not weakness."
When he says it like that, I almost believe it.
We're interrupted by a low rumble of thunder outside, and I glance toward the window in surprise. The sky has turned dark gray while we've been talking, heavy clouds rolling in from the mountains.
"Storm's coming," Callum observes.
As if summoned by his words, rain begins pattering against the windows, light at first but quickly building to a steady downpour. Lightning flickers in the distance, followed by another roll of thunder.
"I should check the windows upstairs," I say, but I don't move. There's something hypnotic about standing here in the warm kitchen with Callum while the storm rages outside.