Chapter 13
Chains POV?
Two months. That’s how long Cleo had been in Creek Wood, since she walked into Sally’s diner and shifted everything without even trying.
It had been six months since she lost her husband. In that time, I learned something important: grief doesn’t move faster just because you want it to. It doesn’t bend, soften, or hurry. That’s why I kept my distance.
Mostly.
I stayed close enough to see her and talk when it felt right. But I kept enough distance not to push for something that didn’t belong to me. That was my rule.
Until today.
I found her alone on the clubhouse porch, coffee in hand. She wasn’t looking for anyone, just watching the yard like she was still trying to work out where she fit. When she looked up and smiled at me, I walked over anyway.
“Cleo.”
“Chains.”
It was the same as always, as if nothing had changed between us.
“Mind if I sit?”
She shook her head. “No.”
I sat down next to her, and for a while, neither of us said anything. We just listened to the sounds around us: kids shouting, a bike in the distance, music coming from inside the clubhouse. After a bit, she tilted her head.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
I let out a short laugh. “Not avoiding you.”
Her eyebrow lifted.
“Giving you space.”
“That sounds worse.”
“It probably is.”
She gave a small smile, and then the silence returned.
This silence felt heavier, more honest. So I stopped pretending.
“I like you.”
It was simple. No build-up, no hiding. Just the truth between us. Cleo didn’t answer right away. She just looked at me, like she was trying to find a place for it in her world. I kept my eyes forward and waited.
“I’m not asking you for anything,” I said quietly.
“I’m not asking you to move on. I’m not asking you to forget Wade.”
She caught her breath a little when I said his name.
“He mattered,” I added. “He still does.”
That made something flicker in her expression.
“I know it’s only been six months,” I said.
“I’m not stupid.”
She let out a faint huff. “Good.”
That almost made me smile. “I’m interested in you, Cleo.”
She turned her head a little. It wasn’t fear. Just awareness.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I added.
“What does that mean?” she asked quietly.
“It means I’ll wait.” A beat.
“If it takes six months, I will wait.”
Another beat.
“If it takes a year, I will wait.”
Her fingers tightened around her coffee. “And if it never changes?”
That question hit hard. It wasn’t dramatic. Just real.
“Then I’ll still be here,” I said.
“I'm not asking for more than you can give.”
Silence stretched between us. It wasn’t uncomfortable. Just honest.
Then she let out a slow breath. “How about we start as friends?”
I nodded once. “Friends.”
“Yeah.” she whispered.
Simple. Safe. It was a beginning that didn’t ask anything from either of us. She held out her hand, I took it. Warm and steady. Neither of us let go right away.
Then, “Chains!”
Tommy.
I turned just as he came sprinting across the yard, like he didn’t understand danger or consequences. Cleo sighed beside me.
“No brakes,” she muttered.
“No survival instincts,” I added.
He stopped in front of us like he’d been launched.
“Can we look at your bike?”
Cleo opened her mouth instantly. “No.”
Tommy turned to me. “Please?”
I almost laughed. “You always double-check your audience?”
“Yes.”
“Smart kid.”
Cleo pinched the bridge of her nose. “Five minutes.”
Tommy lit up. “YES!”
He grabbed my hand and dragged me across the yard. Cleo followed, shaking her head.
“You’re going to let him break something,” she called.
“He’s six. I think that’s a guarantee, not a possibility.”
That earned a laugh from her, and it hit harder than it should have.
We reached my bike, and Tommy looked at it like it was the best thing in the world.
“You really ride this?”
“Every day.”
“Can I ride it?”
“No.”
“Can I sit on it?”
I glanced at Cleo. She rolled her eyes.
“Go on then.”
Tommy climbed up carefully, completely serious now. Like this mattered more than anything else in his world.
“You like bikes?” I asked.
“Love them.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re fast.”
I nodded. “Good reason.”
He grinned like I’d just made his whole day. Cleo leaned against a post nearby, watching us. She didn’t interfere. She was just there.
Skylar appeared a few minutes later, holding her sketchbook close to her chest.
She hesitated before stepping forward. “I finished it.”
She held it out. I took it and stopped. My bike, drawn properly, not just copied. Understood. I studied it properly.
“You drew this?”
“Yeah.”
“You like bikes?” I asked.
“I like drawing them.”
Fair enough.
“Can I keep it?” I asked.
Her eyes widened. “You really want it?”
“Yeah.”
A pause. Then she nodded. “Okay.”
Something changed then. It was small. Quiet, but real.
Trust.
Cleo saw it too. I could feel her watching me. She wasn’t judging, just noticing how I was with her kids. I moved carefully, respectfully, like it mattered, because it did.
“Chains.”
Graves. I helped Tommy down from the bike and walked with him toward the steps. We didn’t speak until we were out of earshot.
“You good?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
He studied me. “You look it.”
I exhaled. “We said, friends.”
“Uh-huh.”
“That’s it.”
Graves looked at me for a second longer. He wasn’t calling me out, he just saw right through it, because I was still watching her.
“You’re already in it,” he whispered softly.
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. I didn’t answer right away, because he wasn’t wrong.
“I know what we said,” I said eventually.
Friends. The word felt smaller now, not as solid.
“But that’s what we are.”
Graves nodded slowly, like he accepted it even if he didn’t fully believe it. Then he clapped my shoulder once.
“Just don’t lie to yourself about where it’s heading.”
He walked away before I could answer, leaving me there. I was still watching her, still caught in something I hadn’t planned, and realizing he was right.
We said we were friends, but that wasn’t where this was going anymore. I’d already stopped holding back.