Chapter Thirty-Six
Lydia
I couldn’t believe how quickly Reckless River had started to feel like home.
It had been months since I first rolled into town in Melanie’s car, my life packed into a suitcase, and an optimistic-to-the-point-of-na?ve plan to reimagine an old building. I hadn’t expected much. A little personal growth. A lot of paint. Maybe a decent cup of coffee and a friendly face or two.
What I hadn’t expected was Callum Benedict.
Or that I’d spend more nights in his bed than in my own.
Or that I’d fall for this small town, and this man , so fast, so completely, and so messily .
But here I was. Waking up in flannel sheets more mornings than not, my clothes slowly multiplying in his drawers like they had every intention of never leaving.
It was the kind of relationship that crept up on you, even when it was standing six-foot-something tall with a beard, green eyes, and a perpetual scowl. One day, I was challenging him in his bar over mismatched barstools, and the next, he was teaching me how to shoot tin cans off a fence with a rusted old rifle and kissing the side of my head like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The man might still grunt more than he spoke, but I’d cracked the code.
His affection came in acts of service: checking the oil in my car, even though I didn’t ask, stocking my favorite snacks behind the bar, and leaving mugs of coffee for me exactly how I liked them—heavy on the creamer, sacrilegiously sweet.
And today?
He was planning a picnic.
I nearly fainted when he mentioned it. Picnic and Callum Benedict didn’t even belong in the same sentence unless the picnic was being held in the bed of his truck with a six-pack and a bag of jerky.
So naturally, I was curious.
And okay— maybe a little bit giddy.
My phone buzzed as I finished tying my hair up in a low bun.
Out front. Bring your appetite. And maybe bug spray.
I laughed out loud.
Classic romance.
I grabbed my sunglasses and stepped outside into the warm, late summer air. The scent of pine was thick today, the sunlight slanting gold across the gravel drive. And there he was leaning against his truck, arms folded, sunglasses perched on his nose like he wasn’t the literal embodiment of mountain-man smolder.
“You know,” I said as I walked toward him, “you never cease to amaze me with your ability to make something as soft as a picnic sound like a hostage situation.”
He pushed off the truck, lips twitching. “I didn’t say hostage. Just bring bug spray. I’m not losing a pint of blood for a romantic gesture.”
“A romantic gesture,” I gasped. “Callum, be still my heart.”
“Shut up,” he muttered, but he was grinning as he opened the passenger side door for me. “Just get in the truck before I change my mind and take you to the bait shop instead.”
“Promises, promises.”
He smacked my butt as I passed him, and I yelped, whipping around. “ Excuse you.”
He climbed into the driver’s seat. “If you’re gonna sass me before I’ve had a sandwich, you’re asking for it.”
“Oh, so there are sandwiches. This is already shaping up to be the most romantic thing you’ve ever done.”
He just smirked and started the engine.
We drove in easy silence for a few minutes, windows down, music low. Reckless River was sparkling, the trees towering on either side of the road like guardians to the sacred world we’d built between us.
He turned down a narrow path into the county park and pulled into a shaded clearing that overlooked a bend in the river. The spot was quiet, secluded, and just wild enough to feel like we were breaking some sort of invisible rule by being there.
The river lived up to its name—reckless and unbothered by time.
From where I sat, the view was nothing short of breathtaking. The Reckless River carved its way through the land like it had someplace to be, tumbling and roaring over glistening boulders that jutted from the water like ancient sentinels. The current was fierce today, white foam curling around the rocks as the water surged past in a determined rush, catching sunlight like fractured diamonds.
Tall pines lined the banks, their needles whispering with the wind, and the scent of moss and wet earth filled the air. Dragonflies hovered over pockets of rare still water, their wings flashing iridescent in the golden light. The sky above was a vast, endless blue, only a few wisps of cloud drifting lazily overhead like they were on river time, too.
It wasn’t just beautiful. It was alive.
Untamed. Honest. A little dangerous.
And maybe that’s why I loved it so much.
Because it reminded me of him.
Of us.
This place, with its unpredictable beauty and raw edges, had seeped into my bones. And sitting there with the rush of the river in my ears and the sun on my skin, I realized I didn’t want to be anywhere else.
We walked a little ways and I spotted a blanket already spread on the grass, a cooler beside it, and, God help me, a small bouquet of dandelions stuck in an old mason jar.
“Okay,” I said slowly, turning to him. “Who are you, and what have you done with Callum Benedict?”
He pulled the cooler open and handed me a bottle of sweet tea. “He’s still here. He’s just been influenced by a meddling woman with opinions about aesthetics and a design degree. I’ve learned that details matter.”
I laughed, taking the tea. “Is that what I am? A meddling woman?”
“You’re a menace,” he said, digging out sandwiches wrapped in brown paper. “And apparently, my favorite one.”
That made my heart lurch in the best possible way.
We sat on the blanket, knees brushing, eating in the quiet that had become so natural between us.
Eventually, I leaned back, hands behind me in the grass.
“You know,” I said, eyes on the trees, “this whole picnic thing? Ten out of ten.”
He gave a soft grunt. “Even with the bugs?”
“They haven’t attacked me yet. I’m giving you credit until further notice.”
He shifted, lying back beside me and resting a hand on my thigh. “I thought it’d be nice. Just us. No paintbrushes. No ceiling tiles. No laundromat washers trying to seduce you.”
I burst out laughing. “That was your idea.”
“I still stand by it.”
I looked at him as sunlight cut across his jaw, that familiar spark in his eyes, and felt something fierce rise up in my chest.
It had been months.
And yet it still felt like the beginning.
The kind you didn’t want to end.
He looked over and caught me staring. “What?”
I shrugged, trying not to look too dreamy. “Nothing. Just… wondering how I got here.”
“Bug spray. Sandwiches. Sheer, reckless charm,” he said, biting into the last triangle of turkey and cheese like he wasn’t proposing the theory of gravity.
I laughed. “Reckless charm? That what we’re calling it now?”
“You’re in my town, at my river. Eating my sandwich,” he said, wiping his hands on a napkin. “Sounds like a pretty effective tactic.”
I tilted my head. “And here I thought it was my idea to stay.”
His smile softened, eyes drifting toward the water. The river was louder now, rushing past us with the kind of untamed power that always made me feel small in the best way. Like the world was big enough for second chances. New beginnings. Even the broken parts.
We sat in the quiet for a moment, just listening. Birds calling in the trees. Water over stone. The occasional creak of a pine bough swaying overhead.
Callum sat up straighter.
I noticed his hands first. He’d stashed them in his lap, fidgeting slightly. His thumb rubbed a pattern across his palm like he was working up to something. I watched him closely, my breath catching as he cleared his throat.
He wasn’t smiling anymore.
Not in the teasing, lopsided way he usually did.
He looked serious. Soft around the eyes. Steady in that way he got when he was about to say something that mattered.
“Lydia…”
Oh no. There it was. The tone.
I blinked, sitting up straighter. “Are you about to tell me something tragic?”
His mouth twitched, like I’d caught him off guard. “God, no.”
“Because if this is about to become one of those ‘I’m moving to Alaska to work on a crab boat’ moments, I swear—”
He chuckled and reached for my hand. “Shut up for a sec.”
I did.
Because now I was really watching him.
And when he shifted onto one knee… one knee …I forgot how to breathe.
His fingers were still wrapped around mine, firm and warm, but his other hand slid into his shirt pocket and pulled out something small and silver.
A ring.
Simple. Elegant. No fuss.
Just… him.
“I’m not great with speeches,” he said, voice low but steady. “I never planned for this. Hell, if you’d asked me a year ago, I would’ve said I was done trying. Done hoping.”
My chest tightened.
“But then you showed up,” he continued, eyes locked on mine. “Mouthy. Beautiful. Walking into my bar like you owned the place.”
“I did technically own it,” I whispered. “Still do.”
He smirked and rolled his eyes. “Right. Still do.”
His hand trembled slightly as he turned the ring between his fingers. “You saw every sharp edge I had and never backed away. You gave as good as you got. You didn’t try to fix me or change me. You just… loved me anyway.”
Tears pricked my eyes.
“I don’t know how the hell I got lucky enough to deserve you,” he said. “But I know I don’t want to wake up another morning without you. I want all of it. The bar, the chaos, the ceiling tiles, the god-awful paint samples. I want every fight, every kiss, every grocery run, and every Sunday morning in bed.”
My lip quivered, and I bit it, trying not to burst into a puddle of mush.
“Lydia Isla,” he said, holding out the ring, his voice rough now, “will you marry me?”
I stared at him.
Not just because he looked unfairly good kneeling in the grass, river roaring behind him like the universe was screaming YES in my ear, but because every moment, every inch of this— him —was more real than anything I’d ever dared to want.
I nodded, tears sliding down my cheeks. “Yes,” I whispered.
He stood quickly, grabbing my waist and lifting me off the ground like I weighed nothing, spinning me in a way I hadn’t been spun since middle school dances and dreams with too many stars.
He kissed me, hard and sweet and reverent.
And when he slid the ring on my finger and looked down at it like it meant something more than metal ever could, I knew this was it.
This was home.
Reckless River was home.
Callum Benedict was my forever.