Chapter Ten
Caleb
Doubt weighed on me as I stood at Chantel’s kitchen counter, staring at the sandwich I’d made.
It was a solid roast beef on rye with provolone and tangy Dijon, topped with a leafy green mix. The kind of sandwich that should’ve had me salivating.
Too bad I wasn’t hungry. I couldn’t have stomached it even if I tried. I just didn’t know what else to do with myself.
Through the kitchen window, Zadie sat cross-legged on a blanket in the backyard, a sketchpad balanced on her knee.
Her hair was piled in a messy knot on top of her head, and she was wearing an oversized shirt streaked with color that had probably been white at some point.
She was completely absorbed, her hand moving in quick, confident strokes across the page.
I’d been watching her for twenty minutes. Which was either dedication to the art of sandwich-making or the behavior of a man who needed professional help.
Five days since I’d moved in, and I still hadn’t figured out what the hell I was doing with my life. No school, no job, no plan. Just a room across the hall from a woman who’d made it clear she didn’t want me.
None of that should’ve mattered. I had time. I had options. I had a family ten minutes away who’d bend over backward to help if I let them.
But all I could think about was her.
Instead of pursuing her, I’d spent two days hiding in my room like a fucking coward. Timing my trips to the bathroom. Pretending I couldn’t hear her through the walls.
Then on day three, the house went silent and I came out for water. That’s when I first saw her through the window, drawing in the morning light. After that, hiding wasn’t an option.
“Prince Charming, you’re still here.” Chantel swept into the kitchen, catching me mid-stare.
I stepped back from the window. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
“Well, good morning to you too, sunshine.”
“It’s almost noon.”
“Not in my world.” She stretched and yawned, then followed my gaze outside. “You know, you could just go talk to her.”
“I’m making a sandwich.”
“Oui, but only so you can stalk her. You can’t fool me.” She reached across the counter and stole my sandwich off the plate before I could react, biting into it with a groan of approval. “This is incredible. You can earn your keep around here as my personal chef.”
“Glad to be of service.”
“I mean it. Cook, clean, keep me company when I’m off shift.” A hard look flickered through her expression. “And if anyone comes knocking that I don’t want to see, you can tell them I’m not home.”
“Are you expecting someone?”
“No.” She took another bite of the sandwich, but the casual act didn’t match the tension in her shoulders.
Still, I didn’t push it. “Do you think I made a mistake? Moving back here?”
“That’s a dumb question.” She scoffed, still chewing. “You decided for a reason. You wanted to be here, right?”
“Yeah, I did. I still do. But I’m starting to wonder if living in the moment without a plan is just setting me up to crash.”
“Please tell me this isn’t about Zadie.” She glanced back toward the window.
I didn’t answer. What the hell was I going to say?
“Ah, Charming, don’t stress about it. Timing’s just bad, and I probably should have told her you were coming.”
“You didn’t tell her?” Fuck, that explained a lot.
“I didn’t think it was that big a deal.” Chantel shrugged. “Of course, I didn’t know you were going to go full stalker-boy and ask her out the second you walked through the door. What were you thinking?”
“I didn’t see the point in waiting. And honestly, I thought I could convince her.”
“Would it help if I said it’s genuinely bad timing? It’s not about you.”
It didn’t help at all. “Don’t worry, I won’t cry on your shoulder. I’ll survive the friend zone. Besides, there’s a lot I need to figure out. Which reminds me, do you think you could set me up with the volunteer coordinator at the hospital?”
“Maybe…” She glanced at the clock on the microwave and winced. “Shit. I was supposed to drive Zadie to school.”
“You forgot?”
“I didn’t forget. I lost track of time.”
The back door slid open and Zadie stepped in with her sketchbook tucked under her arm and graphite smudged across her cheek. My gaze snagged there, then lifted to her deep brown eyes.
They passed right over me and fixed on Chantel. “You forgot.”
“I didn’t forget.” Chantel brushed crumbs from her pajamas, then caught Zadie’s glare. “Okay, I forgot. I’m sorry.” She held up the half-eaten sandwich like a peace offering. “Hungry?”
“Never mind.” Zadie was already turning to leave, not having looked my way once. “I’ll catch the bus.”
“I can take you.” The offer came out before I could second-guess it.
She hesitated, her shoulders rising and falling on a deep breath.
“Take the ride, Zadie,” Chantel said through a mouthful of sandwich.
Zadie shot her another harsh look, then her gaze finally landed on me—resigned, reluctant, and utterly fucking stunning. “Fine. Let me grab my bag.”
Chantel bumped my shoulder as Zadie disappeared down the hall. “You really are Prince Charming, saving the day.” She smirked and then stuffed her face with the final bite of roast beef and rye.
I grabbed my keys and waited by the front door, trying to look like a man offering a friend a lift and not like a guy whose entire body had just lit up because she’d agreed to sit in his truck.
She didn’t say a word as we left the house. The silence stretched between us, thick and uncomfortable, all the way into the truck and halfway down the road.
And fuck, I couldn’t stand it. “What are you studying?”
“Business.” Her voice was flat, like she was reading it off a form. “It’s practical and should help me find a better paying job.”
“It’s practical…but is it what you want to do?”
“No.” She shifted in her seat, her tone softening. “What I want to do is paint. It’s the only thing I’ve ever been passionate about. But passion doesn’t cover rent or living expenses, and I’ve spent enough of my life broke. So, business it is.”
Passion doesn’t cover rent.
Her words hit deep. Not because I understood the money part. I’d grown up with a hell of a lot more financial security than most, and I’d walked away from a paid education without a second thought.
But the other part—choosing the practical thing over the thing that made you feel alive—I understood that down to my bones.
“You were sketching this morning. So you haven’t given up on art entirely.”
She turned toward me for the first time, and I had to force myself to keep my eyes on the road. “You were watching me?”
“Hard not to.” No point lying about it. “You had this look on your face like nothing else existed. Like you were doing something you love.”
Her fingers clasped together in her lap, and the air in the cab pressed in. “You know the painting in your room? The one on the wall?”
Strokes of blues, greens, and browns flashed through my mind—the image of a woman’s face partway underwater, like she was either surfacing or drowning.
My grip on the wheel tightened. “Yeah.”
“That’s my work. One of my favorites, actually.”
“It’s good.” A piece of her had been in my room this whole time, right above my bed. “It’s really good.”
“Thanks.” The word sounded strangled, and she looked away, color rising in her cheeks.
“I’d love to see the rest sometime.”
She didn’t reply. The wall between us might’ve been chipped, but she seemed determined to keep it standing.
I pulled into the campus lot and squeezed into a spot between a dented Honda and a pickup that had seen better decades. The engine ticked in the silence after I killed it.
“Zadie, listen—”
“I know.” She gave me a sad half-smile that cracked something open in my chest. “I suck at this friend thing. My life’s kind of a mess right now. I promise we can hang out, and I’ll tell you about it. I just need some time. Okay?”
Fuck time. What was time going to do except let the distance harden into something permanent? I’d given her five days, and it already felt like five years.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” She blinked, clearly expecting more of a fight.
“For now.” I held her stare. “But I’m walking you to class.”
I was out of the truck before she could argue, rounding the hood to open her door.
She slid out, and those big doe eyes flicked up to mine before darting away. “I do feel a little lonely walking around here on my own sometimes. It’s nice to have company.”
One tiny admission. One small crack in her defenses. And every rational thought I’d had about keeping my distance evaporated.
Our footsteps fell into rhythm on the pavement, and I ignored the urge to sling my arm over her shoulders. But I let myself imagine, just for a second, that this meant something more.
Because friends just wasn’t going to fucking cut it.