Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
KANE
I check the clock again. It’s been an hour since May called and said Timber was on her way. I can’t shake the worry about her walking home alone after such a heavy day.
Hailey’s asleep, totally unaware of everything going on outside her dreams. She insisted I read Cinderella before bed and then asked again if I’d marry Timber and if so, would there be a pumpkin carriage and a glass slipper. If only life were like fairytales and all stories had a happy ending.
That got me thinking about Timber and me, and if we’d get a happy ending. The only way that happens is if she decides to stay.
I continue looking out the window, wishing I could see her walking up the path. Is this what she did when I was stuck at sea? Was she worried sick about me, too? Did her gut twist and turn when every sound and shadow didn’t turn out to be me? Did she want to rush out and search but held back because she knew Hailey would need her? All these thoughts drift through my mind as I do several more passes in front of the living room window.
Each minute that ticks by seems like an eternity. After learning about her mother, what is she thinking? I know the story and the distrust it bred in town. Amanda’s actions didn’t help either. For me, it only intensified the suspicion that outsiders can’t be trusted. But Timber isn’t her father. She isn’t Amanda. She’s proven herself different, repeatedly, with her kindness and genuine efforts to fit into this community. She’s one of the good ones.
I’m at the window again, just staring out, when I finally see it—a shadow moving up the path. It’s slight and slow, but it’s there. Adrenaline surges through me, and without thinking, I’m out the door, racing across the yard toward her.
She looks exhausted. Her steps are slow, but there’s no sadness in her eyes, just a weariness that speaks more of physical tiredness than anything else.
“What were you thinking?” I blurt as I reach her.
She gives me a small, tired smile and says, “I was thinking it wouldn’t take me as long. In my mind, it was half as far because we always take the ATV.”
I’m half-amused despite my concern. “You had me worried, walking all by yourself this late after such a day.”
She lets out a soft laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to concern you. A lot happened today, and I needed some time to clear my head. ”
We walk back toward the house together. “You don’t have to process this all alone. I’m here for you.”
She stops and turns to look at me, her eyes searching mine. “Can you believe it? May is my grandmother. I woke up this morning thinking I was Timber Moore, orphan and alone, and now I’m not sure who I am.”
I pull her into my arms, feeling a rush of emotion. “I know exactly who you are. You’re a teacher, a friend, a wonderful person, and you’re mine.”
“Yes,” she whispers, as if testing the word. “I’m yours.”
Hearing her say it, a rush of emotion hits me hard. It's more than just a word. It's a future. I tighten my hold on her, not wanting to let go. “You have no idea how much that means to me,” I say, my voice rough with emotion.
I guide her inside and straight to my room. She stops at the door. “Oh no. I’m not sneaking out of your bed every morning before Hailey wakes.”
I can see how that might be a problem, so I take her hand, and walk her to her room, and close the door behind us. “Then I’ll sneak out of yours.”
In the quiet of her room, the weight of the day’s events seems to lift. I hold her close, and experience the rise and fall of her breath, grounding myself in the simple reality of having her here, now. “What are your future plans?” I ask, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
She sighs and looks away. “I can’t plan for forever until I process what happened today. There's so much to take in. ”
I help her sit on the edge of the bed and start removing her shoes. I take one foot in my hands, touching the delicate bones and soft skin with my fingers. Slowly, I begin to massage her, my thumbs pressing into the arch of her foot, working in small circles to ease the tension.
She closes her eyes and lets out a soft moan, her body relaxing under my touch. As I continue, I move to her toes, gently pulling them, then back to her heel, kneading firmly but gently. Her head falls back, and she sinks into the mattress, a look of pure contentment on her face.
“I understand,” I say quietly. “I figured with May being your grandmother and all, you might stay.”
“I’d love to, but I can’t make that decision right now.”
“What’s holding you back?”
She opens her eyes and takes a deep breath. “There are so many reasons. My new job ... I made a commitment, and I can’t leave it now. And my mother’s house—there’s so much that needs to be done there.”
Hearing her uncertainty, a mix of emotions rushes through me. I understand her hesitations, but the thought of her leaving is a punch to the gut. I keep massaging her foot, trying to focus on the present moment. “I wish things were different.”
She looks at me. “I do too. But I have commitments I need to take care of.”
I want to ask her to stay, but inwardly, my thoughts swirl. If she’s not going to stay for her grandma, she definitely won’t stay for me. The realization hits hard, but I push it aside. For now.
I lift her feet, placing them gently on the bed and move beside her, bringing my face level with hers. Our eyes meet, and I lean in, kissing her. She responds, the tension between us shifting. It’s the start of something more intimate, more immediate. As we begin to undress, I close the door on the world outside, on all the worries and the future uncertainties.
In the dim light of her room, I focus on the present. She's here, in bed with me, and I'm not wasting a minute of time thinking about the future when what we have is now. The problems of the world, the weight of our decisions, can wait for another day. For now, the simple truth is that I have her in my arms, and that's enough.