Chapter 9 Arm’s Reach
Arm’s Reach
? No Complaints - Noah Kahan
Callie
Pickles are great until you’re in one.
How the hell did I get myself into this situation? One minute I’m sleeping in my car, and the next I’m moving in with Jaxon fucking Hayes.
I leave him behind to deal with the tow and head inside.
The whole place smells like him, mixed with a subtle undercurrent of earth and cedar.
The interior is beautiful, with slanted wood paneled ceilings and warm decorative accents.
To the left of the entry, there’s a large metal staircase leading to an upstairs loft.
I feel tiny standing beneath the high ceilings.
Straight ahead is an expansive living area with a large stone fireplace that immediately draws the eye.
A brown leather sectional sits across from the floor-to-ceiling windows, and an oversized armchair and ottoman are angled toward the fire.
I trail my fingers along the bank of bookshelves.
Some of the spines are cracked from repeated use, while others are in pristine condition.
I pick up one particularly well-loved copy of The Hobbit, scanning the annotated pages. His handwriting is neater than I expected. I replace the book on the shelf and peer out the window. I can vividly picture myself here on a perfect rainy day with a steaming cup of tea and a smutty romance novel.
Something foreign stirs in my chest—something I refuse to give voice to. I can’t stay here forever. Nothing is permanent, not for me. I’d like to think there’s a simple life waiting for me at the end of all of the hardship, but hope is fleeting, and I’ve learned to temper my expectations.
The vision dissolves as reality sinks in.
I won’t be living here alone. I have a roommate now, and I have no idea how to share a space with someone.
Does he expect me to clean up after him?
I guess it’s the least I could do if I’m not paying rent.
And what about groceries? Oh god, what if Jaxon wants to bring someone home? My thoughts spiral until I’m drowning.
I rush back to the porch and suck in a lungful of fresh air as I sink onto the top step. A fresh wave of sadness and uncertainty hits me for the first time since the fire. It’s like my mind is only now catching up to everything I’ve been through.
I don’t cry.
I never cry.
Not anymore. Tears are a sign of weakness.
I glance out over the serene moonlit landscape as the distant sound of a horse’s whinny reaches my ears. A calm settles over me. There’s a comforting stillness here—something I’ve never had the privilege to experience before now.
For as long as I can remember, survival has always come at the expense of comfort.
I made a home wherever I could find it. Eventually, I got used to the crappy low-rise apartment with little more than a street view and a small patch of grass near the parking lot.
I thought I was finally getting my fresh start.
Then I lost that, too.
My throat constricts against the sudden onslaught of emotion. For the first time in… I don't know how long… something settles within me. I can breathe here, completely unencumbered.
I don’t deserve it, but I won’t take a single moment for granted. Maybe someday I'll finally be able to stop running. But for now, Whispering Oaks Ranch is my home, however temporary.
Jaxon
With a container of leftovers in hand, I return home to find Callie sitting on the top step of the porch with her arms wrapped around herself. I take a seat beside her, keeping a good bit of distance between us. She glances out over the ranch and slides her hands up and down her arms.
I pull off my jacket and drape it around her shoulders. There’s a decent chill in the air, but it’s nothing compared to whatever Callie’s going through. I can endure a little cold to offer her some comfort.
“You ok?”
She pulls the jacket tighter around herself and inhales. “I think I’m having a delayed reaction.”
“What do you mean?” I stare at her profile, taking in the subtle upward slope of her nose and her impossibly long eyelashes.
How have I never noticed her eyelashes?
Her pert chin peeks out between round cheeks, creating a delicate heart-shaped silhouette. I’ve imagined her a million different ways, but my feeble mind could never have conjured someone so utterly captivating.
“It’s like I’ve been in fight-or-flight mode for so long. Now that I’m settling in somewhere that feels safe, it’s given me time to slow down and reflect. I lost everything, Jax. The life I built for myself, everything I worked for since…"
I wait for the end of her sentence. Since what? What has this incredible woman been through?
She sighs and hangs her head. “It’s gone. Everything I have left is shoved into that car.”
Unable to resist the pull, I close the distance between us and wrap my arm around her. She stiffens at first before resting her head against my shoulder. She smells sweet, like lavender and orange blossom, but with my jacket around her, she also smells like me.
Like mine.
I offer her a sympathetic smile. “You’ll build it back up again.”
She blows out a ragged breath, clutching at the sides of my jacket like it’s the only thing holding her together. “I don’t think I can. I don’t have any fight left in me.”
“You’re one of the strongest people I know. You can do this, but if you need strength, you can borrow mine.”
She angles her head upwards, and those blue-green eyes hold me captive once more.
I could lose my sight and all memory of her, but somewhere in my consciousness I’d still remember the color of her eyes.
There’s a lifetime of pain there, and I momentarily forget how to breathe, suffocated by the sheer weight of it.
“Why are you so nice to me?” she murmurs.
“Everybody deserves kindness, Callie.”
“Not everybody.”
I want to ask more. I want to know what happened in her past to make her believe that cruelty could be someone’s default setting, but it’s not my place.
It’s clear that whatever secrets she’s hiding, they’re born of survival.
Maybe someday she’ll trust me enough to open up.
Until then, I’ll be here, a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold—whatever she needs, she’ll have it.
My fingertips skim along her cheekbone as I tuck a lock of hair away from her forehead. A foreign emotion flashes in her eyes, but it’s gone before I can make sense of it.
My gaze darts to her lips—impossibly soft in the most beautiful shade of pink. I lean in ever so slightly, and her eyelids drift shut behind her wire-framed glasses.
Just one touch. That’s all it would take for me to lose myself completely. I’ve dreamt of this very moment for longer than I care to admit. As much as I want to close the distance, I can’t bring myself to take the last step. Not yet. Not when there are still so many secrets between us.
I inhale sharply and pull away. “Do you need to get anything from your car?”
She nods solemnly. “Just a few things.”
“I’ll meet you inside and give you the ten-cent tour. Tomorrow we can go pick up Arthur.”
Her face pulls into an adorable frown. “Do you mean Atticus?”
“Atticus. Right. I knew that.”
My skin prickles with awareness the second she steps inside my home. She has a small ratty backpack thrown over one shoulder and a Willow Valley Library tote in her hand. My stomach clenches uncomfortably. Is this everything she owns?
“Your house is beautiful,” she says.
I can’t help but preen under the attention. “Thanks. I built it myself.”
“You're kidding.”
“I told you I was full of surprises, Callie baby.”
After Ryan died, I poured everything I had into building this house. I thought it would fill the void he left behind, but all it did was distract me from the guilt for a time.
“Come on. I’ll show you around.”
I take her through the main living space with its massive stone fireplace and the large kitchen I don’t use nearly enough. I’ve never had occasion to cook for anyone else, and it feels like a waste to make an entire meal for one person. Maybe now I’ll be able to put it to good use.
I lead the way down a narrow hallway that extends from the entry all the way to the back of the house.
The first doorway to the right opens up to a decent-sized bathroom, complete with an antique clawfoot tub and a large vanity.
Her expression shifts to one of awe as she gazes at the tub, and I add baths to the imaginary list of Callie’s favorite things.
“Feel free to use whatever you need. Towels are in the closet, and I think my sister might’ve left some bubble bath the last time she visited.”
“I can’t remember the last time I had a bath,” she says faintly.
My fists clench at my sides as I think of everything she’s been through. I don’t know the extent of it, but living without basic necessities for as long as she did could not have been easy.
“The laundry room is across the hall.” I point toward the closed door and carry on down the hallway.
I come to a stop between two doors. “This is my room.”
I don’t bother opening the door. I’m not sure if she’d recognize any of it from my videos, but I can’t take that risk.
There's only one room left, hidden behind the last door across the hall from mine. I twist the knob and push it open. She takes one step inside and does a half turn, taking in her surroundings.
There’s an antique queen-size four-poster bed in the middle of the room with two nightstands bracketing it.
A set of windows takes up the far wall, with light filtering curtains hanging from floor to ceiling.
A large matching dresser sits across from the bed with a mirrored hutch perched on top.
It’s nothing special, but it sure as shit is better than sleeping in a car.
I stay in the hallway, aware that if I step into a bedroom with Callie, I won’t want to leave. “The leftovers are on the counter. I’ll let you get settled for the night. Do you need a ride to work in the morning?”
She doesn’t meet my gaze. “No. I have the day off.”
“Alright. I'll send Griffin over to look at your car tomorrow.”
It’s a goddamn feat that I’m able to resist pulling her into my arms. This night couldn't have been easy for her; I’m still keyed up from the ordeal myself. I manage to walk away without doing something reckless, but every atom in my body is begging me to turn back.
Halfway down the hallway, I hear the quiet whisper of my name. “Jax?”
“Yeah?”
“Your jacket.”
“Keep it.”
A small smile tugs at Callie’s lips as she pulls it tighter across her chest. She looks damn good in my clothes. Too good.
“Goodnight, Jax.”
I love the way she says my name. I spent years imagining it, but nothing could ever come close to reality. It takes all of my strength to walk away just then, knowing the woman I’ve been searching for is finally within arm’s reach.