Chapter 11
Claire
I pull into the Wilder Industries parking lot at eleven forty-five, fifteen minutes before Hunter’s lunch break.
My hands are shaking on the steering wheel.
This is insane. Showing up at his workplace, asking him out in front of his crew, making this public before I’ve even told him I love him. Every controlled, careful instinct I have is screaming at me to turn around and text him like a normal person.
But I’m done being careful with Hunter Ashe.
I’ve spent three days thinking about date three. About the way I asked to keep the blindfold on, the way my heart cracked open when I realized I was in love with him, the way I ran instead of staying to tell him.
I’m not running anymore.
The mill office is a low building with Wilder Industries stamped across the front in iron letters. Inside, sawdust coats everything—the floor, the reception desk, even the air tastes like pine. A woman in her fifties looks up from behind the desk, her smile warm.
“Can I help you, honey?”
“I’m looking for Hunter Ashe.”
Sawdust has already settled on my blazer in the thirty seconds I’ve been standing here, so I brush it off my sleeve. My ballet flats stick slightly to the floor with each step, resin tacky under my soles.
“He’s out back with the crew. Lunch break in about ten minutes.” She eyes me with open curiosity. “You’re Dr. Elliott, aren’t you? From Northwest General?”
Small towns. Everyone knows everything.
“I am.”
“Thought so. Hunter talks about you.” Her smile widens. “Go on through that door, take a left. You’ll find them.”
I follow her directions through a hallway that smells like coffee and wood oil, then push through a heavy metal door into the mill yard.
The noise hits me first: the whine of saws, the crack of wood splitting, and men shouting over machinery.
Sawdust hangs thick in the air, golden particles catching sunlight like snow suspended mid-fall.
The smell of fresh-cut pine burns my nostrils, sharp and green.
Stacks of lumber tower on both sides of the yard, casting long shadows across the packed dirt.
Then I see him.
Hunter’s across the yard near a stack of lumber, talking to Luke Wilder and two other men I don’t recognize.
He’s in work jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, sawdust clinging to his forearms. When he laughs at something Luke says, the sound carries across the yard, and my stomach flips.
I love him.
I start walking before I lose my nerve.
Luke sees me first. His eyebrows shoot up, and he says something to Hunter, who turns.
Our eyes meet across fifty feet of sawdust and lumber, and his whole face changes.
I close the distance between us, aware of the other men watching, aware that every step I take is a choice I’m making in front of witnesses.
“Claire.” He says my name like a question. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to ask you something.”
“Okay.” He’s watching me carefully, and I can see the hope he’s trying to hide. “What’s that?”
“Date four.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “I want date four.”
His mouth curves slow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I step closer, close enough to smell sawdust and the scent of him I’ve been craving for three days. “Tonight. Hank & Lulu’s. Six o’clock.”
“That sounds perfect, Doc.”
Behind him, one of the workers whistles. Luke’s grinning like an idiot. I should be embarrassed, but all I feel is relief.
“Good.” I reach up, brush sawdust from his shoulder just to touch him. “Don’t be late.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
I turn to leave, and that’s when I see Derek Chen standing near the office door, watching us.
He’s backlit by the office fluorescents, his polo crisp and unstained, khakis perfectly pressed.
A Wilder Industries badge clips to his belt.
Not a speck of sawdust on him. He looks like he’s never touched actual lumber in his life.
My stomach drops.
He looks exactly like he did two years ago. Polished. Put-together. And all wrong.
He starts walking toward me. “Claire. Can we talk?”
“No.” I don’t stop moving toward the parking lot.
“Just give me five minutes.” He falls into step beside me. “I know I screwed up. I’ve been thinking about what I said, about the surrogacy thing, and I—”
“Derek.” I stop, face him. “I don’t care what you’ve been thinking. We’re done. We’ve been done for two years. And not once did you reach out. I deserve better than to be an after thought.”
“I see you’ve moved on.” His eyes flick toward Hunter, who’s watching us from across the yard. “With him.”
“Yes. With him.” I meet Derek’s eyes. “We’re done here.”
“Claire…”
I turn and keep walking, and this time he doesn’t follow.
When I reach my car, I glance back. Hunter’s still watching, and even from here I can see the tension in his shoulders. Luke’s hand is on Hunter’s arm, probably the only thing keeping him from crossing the yard.
I get in my car and drive away, with Derek Chen finally in my rearview mirror where he belongs.
At five fifty-eight, I pull into Hank & Lulu’s parking lot. I drove around the block for ten minutes so I wouldn’t be too early. Okay, so I'm nervous. Now, Hunter’s truck is here, parked in the back corner.
The diner smells like burgers and fries, warm and familiar after the sawdust and diesel of the mill. When the door chime dings overhead, conversations continue as I scan the interior.
Hunter is sitting at the counter in the same stool he sat on for our first official date. He stands when he sees me.
“Hi.”
“Hi yourself.” I cross to him, and he pulls me close, kisses me right there in front of the dinner crowd. When he pulls back, his eyes are dark.
“You okay? After Derek?”
“I’m fine. Better than fine.” I touch his face. “He doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Good.” He laces his fingers through mine. “Come on. Lulu saved us a booth.”
The diner is packed—Saturday night crowd, families and couples and clusters of teenagers. Every head turns when we walk past. I recognize half the faces. Northwest General staff, people from the antique fair, locals I’ve seen around town but never met.
Everyone’s watching us.
Hunter squeezes my hand, and I squeeze back.
Lulu appears with menus and water, her smile knowing. “Well, well. Look who finally decided to make it official.”
“Lulu.” Hunter’s grinning.
“Don’t you ‘Lulu’ me, Hunter Ashe. I’ve been watching you pine after this girl for a while now.” She sets down our drinks and looks at me. “About time you put him out of his misery.”
“I wasn’t trying to make him miserable.”
“Honey, men are always miserable when they’re in love. It’s their natural state.” She pats my shoulder. “I’ll give you two a minute to decide on food.”
She disappears toward the kitchen, and I’m left staring at Hunter across the table.
“She’s not wrong,” he says quietly. “About the miserable part.”
“Hunter—”
“You left three days ago without saying yes to date four. I’ve been going crazy wondering if you changed your mind.”
“I didn’t change my mind.” I reach across the table, take his hand. “I just needed time to be sure.”
“And are you? Sure?”
“Yes.” I trace the scar on his palm, the old one from fifteen years ago. “I’m sure.”
He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for days. “Good. Because Claire, I need you to know—”
“I love you.” The words tumble out before I can stop them. “I figured it out during date three, when I asked you to keep the blindfold on. I love you, and that terrified me, so I ran. But I’m done running.”
He’s staring at me like I just rewrote his whole world.
“Say something,” I whisper.
“I love you too.” His voice is rough, wrecked. “Been in love with you since Bay Seven when you tried so hard not to want me and failed.”
I laugh, watery and surprised. “That’s not—”
“It is.” He stands, slides into the booth beside me instead of across from me, and kisses me. It’s thorough and claiming and says everything we’ve been dancing around for two months.
When we break apart, half the diner is watching. I don’t care.
“There’s something else I need to tell you,” I say.
“Okay.”
“About kids.” I take a breath. “Derek made me feel broken for wanting to plan ahead, for freezing my eggs and thinking about surrogacy. And after we broke up, I started wondering if maybe I didn’t actually want kids at all. Maybe I just thought I should want them because everyone expects it.”
Hunter’s watching me, quiet, letting me work through it.
“But I do want them.” The admission cracks something open in my chest. “I want children. I’m just terrified I’ll be terrible at it because I’m not naturally maternal and I work too much and I like control and babies are the opposite of that.”
“Claire.” He cups my face. “You save lives for a living. You’re meticulous and careful and you don’t quit even when things are hard. Those are exactly the qualities that make good parents.”
“But what if—”
“What if nothing.” His thumb traces my jaw. “We’ll figure it out. Together. Not now, not next year, but someday when we’re both ready. And whether it’s surrogacy or adoption, we’ll make it work. We’ll balance each other out.”
“You mean that?”
“One hundred percent.” He kisses the back of my hand. “I’m in this with you, Doc. All of it. The messy parts and the scary parts and the parts we haven’t figured out yet.”
Something in my chest settles, warm and sure.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Okay.”
Lulu appears with a knowing smile, setting down two plates neither of us ordered. “Figured you’d want your usuals. And just so you know, you two are the talk of the whole diner. Probably the whole town by morning.”
“Good.” Hunter doesn’t take his eyes off me. “Cause we’re officially off the market.”
Lulu laughs, refills our water, and disappears again.
We eat slowly, hands linked on the table between us, talking about everything and nothing.
He tells me about the mill, about Derek being professional but clearly jealous, about Luke razzing him all afternoon after I left.
I tell him about my week, about a surgery that went perfectly, about Esme asking when she gets to plan our wedding.
“She’s getting ahead of herself,” I say.
“Is she?” His eyes are warm. “Because I’m pretty sure I want to marry you someday, Claire Elliott.”
My breath catches. “Someday?”
“Someday.” He kisses my knuckles. “When you’re ready. No rush. I’ve got time.”
We finish eating, pay the check despite Lulu’s protests, and walk out into the parking lot hand in hand. The sun’s setting, painting the nearby buildings in shades of amber and gold. Through the diner window, I can see people still watching us.
At my car, Hunter backs me against the door and kisses me slow.
“Come home with me,” he says against my mouth.
“Your place or mine?”
“Mine. I want you in my bed.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “Okay.”
“Follow me?”
“Yeah.”
He kisses me once more, then heads to his truck. I get in my car, and as I pull out behind him, I catch sight of us in my rearview mirror—his taillights leading the way, my headlights following.
This is what choosing looks like.
Not swept away or talked into it or settling because it’s easy. But choosing deliberately, eyes open, knowing exactly what I’m saying yes to.
I’m choosing Hunter Ashe.
And for the first time in my life, I’m not afraid of where that choice might lead.