Chapter 25
25
WESTON
I interlock my fingers with Carlee’s and guide her up the stairs. The wooden steps creak under our weight, the sound echoing in the quiet house. I open the door to my painting studio and lead her around the corner. Windows line the wall, filling the space with golden beams of sunlight that dance across the floor. She’s fascinated by the studio while I’m captivated by her.
“I didn’t realize this room was so big,” she says in awe. When I gave her the tour, we never entered this room.
She follows me to the opposite side, where my supplies are neatly stacked. It includes tubes of colorful paints, different-sized brushes in jars, and large blank canvases waiting for inspiration.
The easel is set up in the middle of the room. I’ve escaped here, spending countless hours pouring my heart into the fine details. I’ve been working on it since the night we first kissed.
Carlee meets my gaze before walking around to the other side of the easel. I follow closely behind.
Her hand covers her mouth, and she gasps as she sees it.
My eyes sweep over the image I painted of her, her serene beauty forever captured. She’s standing at the window in my T-shirt, her silhouette framed by the swirling snow outside. Her face isn’t fully shown, just a glimpse of a smile reflected in the glass. That expression of hers lights a fire in the dark corners of my heart.
“Gorgeous,” I whisper.
This is the image of her that haunts my thoughts, the one that floods my mind when all is quiet. She causes the noise of the world to fade away.
“This is how you saw me?” she questions, a note of disbelief in her voice.
“Yes,” I say. “And when I close my eyes, I can still imagine you standing there, wearing a smile that wasn’t meant for me. True Happiness . That’s what I named it.”
“I’m speechless,” she says, her hand resting over her heart, her breaths coming a little quicker now. “You’re so talented. This is brilliant.”
I laugh. “I’d hope so, considering how much my father spent on private instructors. At age three, I started art classes and piano lessons. I could’ve attended Juilliard. Instead, I chose business school.”
She’s still staring at the painting, her head cocked to one side. “There’s something very familiar about this.”
I breathe in deeply, watching her eyes scan over my strokes. “It’s just a memory captured in paint.”
“Maybe so,” she says, turning to me, her eyes sparkling with excitement as if she discovered something new. “Do you have anything else? I’d love to see more.”
“They’re in storage. More than one hundred paintings,” I explain, my voice tinged with a hint of regret. I removed them all.
“Promise me. Please. Let’s hang them on your walls. You have tons of blank space,” she encourages, giddy with excitement.
I love that she’s supportive, but I’m not used to this. Our deep connection sends a rush through me.
“That’s what you want?” I tuck loose strands of hair behind her ear, my fingers brushing against her skin .
“Yes,” she replies, her voice sincere.
“Okay,” I say, knowing Carlee craves the things money could never buy—a shared human experience with me . And, fuck, do I want to give it to her.
“If I’m moving in, we might as well make it feel like home,” she encourages. “Until I figure out what’s going on with my apartment,” she adds, a hint of vulnerability creeping into her tone.
“You can stay as long as you want,” I express, never wanting her to leave.
“You make me feel safe, and you’re like human melatonin. I instantly fall asleep when you hold me close. I don’t think I want to give that up just yet.”
I can see the layers of her thoughts as she shuffles through them. I wish she’d let the cards fall.
I chuckle, pulling her gently into my arms. “Where do you want to hang this one, roomie?” I ask, a grin breaking across my face.
She tilts her head up at me. “Above your bed.”
“You already poison my thoughts. Isn’t that enough?” I tease, unable to hide my amusement.
“No,” she admits, her tone serious, but her eyes betray her. “I want under your skin too.”
“You’re already there,” I say, wearing a cocky-as-fuck grin.
Carlee tries to kiss me, but I only barely brush my lips against hers. Her frustration with me simmers just below the surface.
“Are you going to deny yourself me the rest of the day?” she asks, grabbing my shirt, desperately clenching the fabric in her fists.
“Maybe,” I reply with a nonchalant shrug, enjoying the tension building between us. “I might let it go on for a week.”
The flash in her eyes and the blush creeping to her cheeks tell me everything I need to know. She enjoys this more than she’ll ever admit.
“You want me begging,” she whispers. It’s almost desperate .
“You wanted to play games, gorgeous. So, we’re fucking playing.”
The plane waits for us as we get out of the car. Carlee stops mid-stride, her eyes widening as she gazes over the jet, taking in every polished detail. She studies the Calloway Diamonds logo on the tail, and when she meets my eyes, I can’t help but smirk.
“I can’t believe this,” she whispers as I place my hand on the small of her back.
“You should,” I say as we board the aircraft.
I guide her to the window seat, wanting to experience everything with her.
She curiously glances.
“What are you thinking?” I ask, intrigued by the emotions that cross her face.
“Mile-High Club?” she suggests, blushing, a grin spreading as she runs her fingers through her hair, attempting to deflect attention.
“Are you a member?” I ask, my brows rising.
“Not yet ,” she admits.
Her eyes lock on to mine. It’s a challenge.
I lean in and whisper in her ear, “So fucking tempting. But we’re still playing unless you’re giving in.”
Soon, we’re speeding down the runway, the wings lift, and then we’re soaring. Carlee looks out the window, her eyes wide with astonishment as we curve around the city, revealing a breathtaking view of Manhattan. The sun glimmers off the river, casting glittery reflections across the water.
“I love New York,” she whispers, pure wonder in her tone, “so much.”
I catch a glimpse of another smile I’m not supposed to see. My heart skips a beat, and I snap the moment to memory right next to the other one. She turns to me, and the eye contact is intense. It holds us both in a prison of unspoken connection.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.
I remember holding her last night as she drifted to sleep, how her smile lit up the room at breakfast, and how she’s looking at me right now.
“Me too,” I confess, smiling brightly. “Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
Carlee removes her laptop from her bag, and I hold on to the magic happening between us.
I smile. “Such a good girl.”
“Don’t start something you don’t plan on finishing, Calloway,” she says matter-of-factly. Leaning in, she whispers in my ear, “My panties are already drenched.”
The warmth of her breath sends a thrill through me.
“Mmm,” I respond. “Love that for you.”
She smirks. “Want to take advantage while I’m feeling very inspired?”
As she begins to type away, the rhythmic tapping of keys fills the cabin. I close my eyes, letting my thoughts drift back to what Easton told me earlier. Somewhere between reality and dreams, I start to doze off, but a sudden whisper jolts me awake.
“Weston,” Carlee murmurs, concern etched on her face, “are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I reply, my voice raspy.
The cabin lights are dim, casting shadows across her face. The glow of her laptop illuminates her eyes, revealing a hint of worry.
“You seemed like you were having a nightmare,” she says empathetically. “Are you sure you’re okay? ”
“My anxiety is elevated with the divorce and traveling. Routine keeps me grounded,” I admit, lifting the armrest between us.
She returns her laptop to her bag, wrapping her arm around me. “I understand. I’m always here if you ever want to talk about it.”
“I know.” I hold her a little tighter, feeling the tension in my body begin to dissipate as she comforts me. “Thank you.”
I inhale her perfume and the faint scent of new leather and close my eyes, allowing myself to relax.
“It’s almost over,” she whispers. “It’s almost all behind you.”
“Us,” I mutter against her hair.
The unknown stresses me because Lena is unpredictable. Easton is right. Leaving the city is for the best, at least until the dust settles. The thought hangs heavy in the air.
Time slips through my fingers like sand, and a sense of peace washes over me. I fall asleep with Carlee in my arms, knowing I could stay like this forever.
I wake when the plane rolls to a stop. The pilots greased the landing with such skill that it hardly felt like we touched down. Our pilots are Brody’s ex-military friends, who now work for our company, flying us safely across the globe.
Carlee sits upright, the remnants of sleep still lingering on her face. “I wasn’t even tired. You’re just too comfortable.”
“It’s you,” I reply as we deboard the plane.
An SUV waits for us just outside, and standing next to it is my cousin—the man who saved my life.
He grins, meeting Carlee’s eyes before turning to mine. We exchange a brotherly hug, the weight of unspoken history hanging between us. He is always by my side when I need him.
“I showed up early to ensure everything was safe for your arrival,” he explains, his voice steady, reassuring.
Carlee slides inside, and I move next to her, feeling the comfort of her presence. Brody takes the front passenger seat, keeping his focus ahead, not turning to acknowledge her presence .
“I’m happy you’re here,” she says, patting his shoulder.
Brody doesn’t respond, his demeanor guarded. He’s grumpy, quiet, and all business, especially on trips like this—outside the city, where threats can linger in the shadows. His eyes dart around the vehicle, scanning the surroundings, constantly flicking to the side mirror. I know he carries a collection of firearms just a breath away, ready in case of trouble.
We pull out of the airport, rolling through the private gate, and Carlee opens the group chat where her huge family is now eagerly waiting for updates.
“Take a picture with me?” she asks.
“Sure.”
She holds her phone, snapping a photo. She quickly types a message and turns the screen toward me.
Carlee
Get ready to talk crap to our faces.
“You’re starting shit,” I mutter.
“I should apologize in advance. They’re really going to adore you, Weston. Just hope you’re ready to be initiated into the family.”
I lean over and kiss her cheek. “I look forward to it. Seriously. Easton fought Lexi’s brothers. He even gave one of them a concussion. I think I’ll be fine.”
She shakes her head in disbelief. “My brothers are rodeo champions. Grew up working on the farm and are built like brick houses. Please do not fight them. Matteo and Dean would enjoy it way too much. Why do you think Samson wouldn’t date me in high school?”
“I’m not afraid of your brothers,” I admit.
“You should be,” she confidently replies. “And my cousins—Jake, Lucas, and Hudson—are even scarier. They’re very protective of me, Wes, and they’re going to put you through the paces. I hope you’re prepared. ”
Brody snorts, barely containing his amusement, and I glare at him.
“I’m not concerned.”
“Good. It’s settled then.”
With that, she pulls her laptop from her bag, and the familiar click of the keyboard soon fills the air. Her eyes scan the screen while she rereads what she wrote on the plane. I lean over to steal a peek, but she quickly covers it with her hand, a grin on her lips.
“You can read it tomorrow when I post it,” she whispers.
“Fucking proud of you,” I tell her, my voice full of sincerity.
“Thank you. I’ll take my gold star now,” she replies teasingly as she returns her fingers to the keys.
We zoom away on the long road, which opens to rustling brown grasses and the occasional tumbleweed. There’s nothing on either side, except rustic Texas mountains and pastures that go on until the horizon. This place is untouched by the concerns of city life. When I imagine small towns, Merryville comes to mind.
An hour later, we’re merging onto the main drag of the town, cruising at a leisurely twenty miles per hour. I roll down the windows when we’re in the heart of downtown.
Around us, the smell of fried food fills the air, and colorful carnival rides have sprouted in the heart of the town square. The bright lights that lace the streets twinkle like stars against the dusky sky. Food trucks line the perimeter, and my stomach grumbles in response. I catch a glimpse of the grocery store and a cozy coffee shop nestled among the other small businesses. As we slow at an intersection, my eyes zero in on Glenda’s Diner, and it’s exactly how I imagined it. The parking on the street is packed. As we drive by, chatter and laughter, mixed with country music, floats from inside.
“Oh, there’s Glenda’s,” she says, glancing from her screen with an excited glint in her eye. “I think it rivals the diner in the city.”
“Guess we’ll see,” I reply, excited to experience it with her .
Soon, we’re leaving city limits. Text messages flood in, making Carlee’s phone buzz nonstop.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Perfect. They’re fighting over where we’re staying right now.”
We turn onto a road, the tires crunching over gravel, and then we slide under a freshly painted sign for Jolly Christmas Tree Farm.
“My mom has space, even though my sister is currently living with her after her divorce. My grandma and aunt have room too. I’m going to have to let them duke it out.” She laughs lightly, and the sound warms something in me.
“Oh, turn right here, and it’s at the end of this road,” she says to the driver. “I have to introduce you to my grandma first. Otherwise, she’ll never forgive me.”
“Are you nervous?” I ask, trying to read her expression as the woods on either side of the road start to thin out.
We’re coming to the end.
“A little,” she admits, a hint of vulnerability slipping through. “I haven’t been home in three years. And I’m returning with a fiancé. Not how I imagined it.”
“Would you change it?” I ask.
“No,” she whispers, studying my lips.
We finally roll to a stop in front of a charming log cabin. Vehicles are parked haphazardly in the field beside it. The warm glow of lights spills from the windows inside. We have an hour before the sun sets.
“Shit. They must’ve all known what I’d do,” Carlee whispers, her voice barely audible. “Looks like we already have a crowd. Hope you’re ready to steal the spotlight.”
“I was born for this.” I get out and stride confidently around to the other side, then open the door for her.
She steps out, and our eyes lock, and an unspoken connection flows between us. She reaches out and clasps my hand, our fingers interlocking. It’s electric and grounding. A pang of anxiety greets me because I want her family to welcome me with open arms, to embrace me like I’m marrying Carlee. Because I am.
She takes a deep breath as I rub my thumb gently across hers.
“Relax, gorgeous. It’s going to be fantastic. Promise.”
I’m used to purposely stealing attention from Easton, doing my best to make him comfortable in social situations. Carlee isn’t much different; she wants to be seen by me and no one else. It’s difficult to balance, but I understand.
“You can do this,” I assure her.
Carlee steadies herself, taking a deep breath as her fingers brush the doorknob. Before she can twist it, the door swings open with a smooth creak. Standing before us is a silver-haired woman, her green eyes sparkling in the golden hour of the evening. Her brows lift as she appraises me, a smile breaking across her face.
“Well, you did real good, Leelee,” she says, reaching toward me and giving my biceps a hearty squeeze that feels like a warm welcome.
“Mawmaw,” Carlee whispers, hugging her tight. “Please meet Weston Calloway. The man I’m going to marry.”
I fucking love hearing her say that. “Hello. It’s very lovely to meet you.”
“That voice,” Mawmaw exclaims, waggling her brows as she steps onto the porch, the door closing behind her with a thud. She crosses her arms over her chest and a glimmer of mischief darts in her eyes. “Who are you staying with while you’re here?”
“We haven’t decided yet,” Carlee explains, casting me a cautious glance.
“Great. You’re boarding with me,” Mawmaw declares, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Your sister is currently camped at your mother’s, and she’s been acting like a complete you know what , now that she got that new job. She needs dead silence during the day because she’s doing virtual interior design consultations or something. Driving us all insane.”
“Mom’s gonna be pissed,” Carlee whispers .
I can’t help but smile.
“I’ll deal with her,” Mawmaw tells us, her voice firm yet warm. “So, it’s settled then. You’re both my guests of honor.”
I glance at Carlee, who gives me a nervous smile. I play it cool. “I’m honored. We appreciate your hospitality.”
“I like you already, Weston. Now, you two come in out of the cold. Brace yourselves. They’re feisty,” she says, leading us into the living room, which is bustling with people.
I quickly take in the scene—a woman who must be her mother, two brothers, and another guy I don’t recognize, but their shared green eyes tell me they’re all family.
Carlee squeezes my hand tighter, and I respond by squeezing hers back—a silent promise of support.
The TV plays in the background, setting the mood while the fireplace roars passionately. Crocheted blankets are draped artfully over the back of the couch. The aromas of freshly brewed coffee and baked cake waft through the air, creating a cozy atmosphere that feels like home.
“Hi, y’all! Wow, I didn’t know you were throwing a party,” Carlee exclaims, her smile bright. I can tell she’s nervous. “It smells incredible.”
“I hurried and whipped up a strawberry cake for you. It’s got about ten more minutes to bake. Everyone, this is Weston Calloway, Carlee’s fiancé. The two of them are staying with me while they’re here,” Mawmaw adds warmly.
Sly woman.
“Excuse me?” Carlee’s mother interjects, her tone laced with surprise. “I thought you’d stay with us.”
“Sorry, Mom. You know Mawmaw makes the rules round here,” Carlee replies.
“That’s right,” her grandma asserts, a proud smile stretching across her face. “Would you two like some coffee? I’ve got a pot brewing in the kitchen. ”
“That’s a great idea after our long flight. We’ll be right back,” Carlee says, guiding me down the hallway.
She takes a deep breath, and I can sense her trying to shake off the lingering tension.
The walls are covered with a mix of family photos and school pictures. There’s one of her with braces and bangs, tucked between two other high school mug shots of her brothers.
“Who’s this cutie?” I ask, and she tugs me into the kitchen with her.
Once we’re in the kitchen, I move close, sliding my lips against hers. She immediately relaxes in my arms, drifting away with me. Carlee groans against me, running her fingers up my shirt. I know her hands on my stomach is a silent plea for more. I laugh against her mouth, wanting her so fucking bad that it hurts.
“Ahem,” I hear from behind us, and we break apart.
Carlee wasn’t exaggerating about her brothers’ sizes. They loom over me, muscles jacked and expressions unreadable. If I were the type to feel intimidation, I might have. However, I’m Weston motherfucking Calloway.
“Matteo and Dean,” Carlee mutters, her fingers brushing over her swollen lips, “this is my fiancé.”
“How old are you?”
Matteo reaches out to take my hand, his grip firm. It’s a threat, and I reciprocate, squeezing back just as hard.
“Forty,” I say.
Dean steps forward and takes his turn, mirroring his brother’s scrutiny. “Aren’t you a little too old to be dating our baby sister?”
They gauge me, sizing me up, which is fair. I’d do the same if this were Billie.
“Stop it,” Carlee says, stepping between us, glaring at her brothers. “Seriously, cut that shit out. I’m not a baby.”
“You’ll always be our baby sister,” Matteo tells her, glaring at me .
The silent warning is clear. Hurt their sister and get hurt.
“Do you love him?” Dean demands, his glare fixed firmly on Carlee.
“Of course,” she replies without missing a beat, confidence radiating from her. “Weston’s my best friend. Other than Lexi, he’s the only person who has been there for me the past year. Where were either of you? Not giving a fuck about your baby sister or what she was doing. So, back off.” The warning in her voice is undeniable.
Zero hesitation or intimidation. She wasn’t joking when she said her brothers had trained her.
Damn. She’s fucking hot when she’s mad.
Carlee shoots them a fierce look, and I think she might clock them. But before she can make a move, Mawmaw walks into the room. Her presence is like a tornado and shifts the air around us.
“Leave them alone,” she commands. Her tone spares no room for argument.
They exit the kitchen, and she gives us a wink before leaving us to ourselves.
“Why did you kiss me,” Carlee asks, her expression shifting from curiosity to something deeper, “when we first walked in here?”
“Because you needed it. Kind of like right now,” I whisper, brushing my lips against hers again, pulling her out of her head.
“You always know,” she admits.
The admission lights a spark of satisfaction within me.
“Let’s get this over with so we can be alone,” she whispers. “Please. I forgot how intense they are.”
“It’s almost over,” I say, offering some encouragement.
My phone buzzes with a text, and it’s Brody.
“One second,” I tell her.
Brody
Are you staying here?
Weston
Yes.
Brody
I’ll put your suitcases on the porch. See you tomorrow.
Weston
Tomorrow.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Yeah, Brody is putting our suitcases on the porch.”
“Great,” she tells me, leading me back into the living room. She does proper introductions. “My mom. My brothers, who you just met. My Mawmaw. And this is my cousin Lucas.”
“Her favorite cousin,” he chimes in, standing to greet me with a friendly smile and a firm handshake. “Nice to meet you, Weston. Welcome to the family.”
“Thanks,” I tell him, happy for the instant approval.
We sit next to her grandmother on the couch with Carlee in the middle. Before anyone can ask us any questions, a pretty blonde rushes into the room, breathless.
“Sorry, I got caught up,” she says, her voice bright. Her green eyes lock on to mine, brows arching in surprise. “Uh, hi. I’m Abigail, but you can call me Abbi. I’m Carlee’s older sister,” she introduces.
Her gaze lingers on me with a boldness that almost feels like an invitation. I don’t like it.
“Weston Calloway.” I stand, giving her a smile and a handshake, but also reading her like a book.
“Oh, and you’re tall too,” she says, really turning on the Southern belle persona. “Pleasure is very much mine.”
When I sit again, Carlee interlocks her fingers with mine. I smile at her, but I can see her anger flaring behind her gaze. As if her sister would ever have a chance with me. I know exactly what kind of woman she is after being married to the queen of them for three years.
I rub my thumb across Carlee’s, finding it cute she’s so worried when I only have eyes for her. No one in the world fucking matters. Since we met, it’s only been her, and it will only ever be her. I think she’s the only person in the room who doesn’t see it.