Chapter Twenty-Five
Callum
I didn’t mean to end up here.
Not today.
Not after that kiss. That insane , pull-the-world-out-from-under-me kiss.
But I found myself driving the winding road out past the old mill, tires crunching over gravel like my conscience, until I turned down the familiar path that led to the cemetery on the hill.
The wind always hit differently here.
Quieter. Sadder.
The trees swayed like they were holding their breath, the grass still damp with dew even in the afternoon sun.
I parked near the back like I always did, where no one else ever seemed to go, and walked the path without thinking. My boots sank into the soft ground with every step. By the time I reached the grave, I felt stripped bare.
Lucy Lynn Carter.
So Loved by So Many
The granite was weathered now, and the edges were soft with time. The wildflowers I’d left last week had browned in the sun.
I crouched beside her, brushing a leaf off the corner of the stone, then sat back on my heels.
“Hey, Luc.”
My voice cracked. It always did here.
I let the silence sit for a minute. Let the wind shift and the ache rise until it filled my chest and pushed against my ribs like it always did when I saw her name.
“I, uh… I messed up again,” I said, eyes locked on the carved letters. “Big surprise, right?”
The sky overhead was blue, cloudless. Unfair, how beautiful it was.
“I kissed someone.”
The words burned on the way out.
“I kissed someone, and it wasn’t just a mistake in the moment. It wasn’t one of those impulse things that happened, and you hate yourself afterward.”
I looked down, jaw clenched tight.
“She kissed me back.”
It was really stupid how my chest tightened just saying it aloud, like it made it real.
“She’s… new in town,” I added, because I didn’t want Lucy thinking I was out here being reckless with strangers. “She’s the new owner of the building. The landlord. And she’s the most stubborn, infuriating, opinionated woman I’ve ever met.”
I huffed a breath and shook my head. “And she’s not even sorry about it.”
The breeze shifted, brushing the back of my neck as if she were listening.
“I thought I hated her,” I said quietly. “Thought she was everything wrong with the world. City girl. Fancy degree. Big ideas. The kind of woman who’d gut this place and replace it with sterile concrete and exposed bulbs. You’d have hated it, Lucy. You’d have raged .”
I tried to smile.
Didn’t work.
“But she didn’t do that,” I admitted. “She came in with plans, sure, but they weren’t what I thought. She’s fixing things. The ceiling tiles. The hallway lights. She’s even painting the damn laundromat, and somehow, I want to thank her for it.”
I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees.
“She’s not ruining the bar. She’s leaving it alone. And still, I fought her. Still, I tried to convince myself she was the enemy.”
The wind rustled again.
“Because if she’s not…” I swallowed hard. “Then what the hell am I supposed to do?”
My throat went tight, my heart slamming hard against my ribs.
“She’s funny. And sharp. And she looks at me like I’m not broken. Like she sees something good , and I don’t know how to handle that.”
I rubbed a hand down my face, my fingers trembling.
“She asked me why I thought she was dangerous,” I murmured. “I told her it’s because she’s tempting .”
My voice cracked again.
“And God, Lucy… she is. ”
I sat there for a long time, trying to steady my breath.
“I didn’t plan this,” I whispered. “I wasn’t looking for anything. Especially not this. But when I’m around her, I can’t think straight. I want to argue with her just so I can hear her talk. I want to kiss her just to make her shut up.”
My laugh was bitter and raw.
“I’m losing it. That’s what’s happening because I shouldn’t want anyone. Not like this. Not now. Not when you’re still everywhere. Not when you’re still here. ”
I touched the edge of the stone.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I don’t know what I’m doing. But I can’t get her out of my head. And that kiss…”
I closed my eyes.
“It felt like waking up.”
My voice caught in my throat, and I hated how true it was.
Because Lydia was everything I told myself I didn’t want.
And yet she was burrowing into every part of me I thought I’d sealed shut.
I stayed there a long time.
Long enough for the sun to shift. For a shadow to pass across the grave.
Then I stood, brushing the dirt from my jeans.
“I’m not replacing you,” I said softly. “I could never.”
But as I walked back toward the truck, one truth circled my brain like a hawk overhead.
Lydia wasn’t just someone passing through.
She was going to change everything.
And I didn’t know if I was ready for that.
But I wasn’t sure I could stop it either.
The graveyard was quiet again.
Too quiet.
I’d meant to leave. Really, I had. But my legs wouldn’t budge.
So instead, I walked over and sat back down on the grass, elbows on my knees, letting the silence press in on me like a weighted blanket I didn’t ask for.
I didn’t want to think about Lydia anymore.
Didn’t want to replay the kiss, or the look in her eyes right after.
Didn’t want to imagine the thousand ways I’d already screwed it all up.
But her face kept showing up in my mind anyway—frustrated, fire-bright, eyes all lit up like she was about to go to war with me for the right reasons.
She looked alive in a way I hadn’t felt in years.
And it scared the hell out of me.
A crunch of gravel pulled me from the spiral. I looked up sharply, hand already halfway to my keys, when I spotted him. Drew walked toward me with cautious steps and a crease between his brows.
He'd found me once before here. First time I ever brought whiskey to cry into the dirt like an idiot.
I hadn’t expected him to show up again.
He said nothing as he approached; he just let his eyes flick to the stone and then back to me. His mouth tightened.
"Thought you might be here," he said.
I looked away. "Didn't feel like being found."
"Yeah, well," he sighed, stopping a few feet away and glancing back toward the path, "I didn’t see you the first time.”
My stomach dipped. “What do you mean, first time ?”
Before he could answer, I heard it.
Footsteps. Light ones.
The kind that weren’t meant to be heard.
And then I saw her.
Lydia.
She came into view slowly, cautiously, like she knew she didn’t belong but couldn’t help being there anyway.
She froze when she spotted me.
And I knew…I knew that this was the moment where I lost whatever the hell we’d almost started.
Because no matter how much heat there was between us, no matter how good her mouth tasted or how damn alive she made me feel, this right here? Sitting on the ground at my wife’s grave, looking like I was seconds from crumbling?
This was the reality.
And she didn’t deserve it.
Didn’t deserve my mess.
Drew turned toward her and gave her a quiet nod of reassurance, but I saw the worry all over his face. Not just for me. For her, too.
For whatever he knew she might be walking into.
Lydia didn’t come closer. She stayed at the edge of the trees, hands clasped tight in front of her, biting her bottom lip like she didn’t know what to do with herself.
Smart girl.
“Don’t,” I said under my breath, eyes still on the gravestone. “Don’t look at me like that.”
Drew sat beside me with a heavy sigh. “She was worried. I was, too.”
“I didn’t ask you to come.”
“You don’t have to.”
I dragged a hand down my face, swallowing the lump in my throat. “She shouldn’t have followed you here.”
“She didn’t,” he said evenly. “She saw me looking again. Offered to help.”
My jaw clenched.
Because, of course, she did.
That’s who Lydia was. She showed up.
Even when it was inconvenient. Even when it made things harder. Even when she had no clue what kind of chaos she was stepping into.
I couldn’t bring myself to look at her.
“I kissed her,” I muttered.
“I figured,” Drew said softly. “She looked like her head was spinning this morning.”
“She doesn’t know what she’s doing.”
“She might,” he said. “But I know you don’t.”
That earned him a glare.
He met it. Didn’t flinch. Just leaned back on his palms and stared at the sky.
“Callum,” he said after a minute, “what exactly are you trying to do here? Scare her off? Prove to yourself you’re still too broken to want anything good?”
“I’m not broken,” I snapped.
He looked at me sideways. “Then why are you on your knees at your wife’s grave trying to convince yourself the first woman who’s made you feel anything in years is the enemy?”
The words hit like a punch.
I dropped my head forward, eyes closed.
Because I didn’t have an answer.
Not one that made sense.
“She deserves better,” I finally said.
Drew didn’t argue. Didn’t say you’re wrong, you’re amazing, she’d be lucky to have you.
Because he knew I wouldn’t believe it.
“She deserves honesty,” he said instead. “And maybe a man who doesn’t shut her out the second she gets close.”
I finally looked at her.
Still there. Still waiting.
Still not running.
My heart twisted painfully in my chest.
“She saw me like this,” I murmured.
“Yeah,” Drew said. “And she didn’t leave.”
I stared at her a second longer, which made everything worse because she looked worried. And kind. And a little lost in a way I understood too damn well.
And I wanted to pull her to me.
And tell her to leave.
At the same time.
I stood abruptly, brushing off my jeans, my jaw clenched so tight it hurt.
Drew stood too.
“She doesn’t belong in this,” I said, not taking my eyes off her.
He didn’t answer.
And that silence said more than any words.
Because maybe she did.
Maybe she belonged here more than I wanted her to.
And maybe that’s what scared me the most.