Chapter 23
The Town Knows Before They Do
Kate
Iwake up with my hand pressed to my forehead, right where Grayson kissed me last night.
It was just a forehead kiss. Nothing scandalous. Nothing that should have kept me awake half the night replaying the moment over and over.
But it did.
Because it felt like a promise. Like he was saying soon without words.
And I'm ready for soon.
I get dressed in a daze, pulling on jeans and my favorite sweater, braiding my hair over one shoulder. When I come downstairs, Grayson's already gone, probably chopping wood or fixing something that doesn't need fixing.
That man can't sit still.
I make coffee and realize we're out of milk. And probably a dozen other things since neither of us has done a proper grocery run in days.
Time for a trip to town.
—
The general store is busy for a Tuesday morning. Mrs. Patel is at the register, ringing up Mrs. Henderson's groceries while simultaneously giving advice about her daughter's upcoming wedding.
I grab a cart and start browsing the aisles, tossing in milk, bread, eggs, and far too much chocolate because I deserve it.
"Kate!" Mrs. Patel spots me the moment I approach the counter. "How lovely to see you, dear!"
"Morning, Mrs. Patel." I leave my cart on the side and start unloading items.
She doesn't ring anything up yet. Just leans against the counter, studying me with those knowing eyes.
"You're glowing," she announces.
I blink. "I'm what?"
"Glowing." Her smile widens. "It's so wonderful to see, you know. You and Grayson. Everyone's noticed."
"Noticed what?" I ask, though I have a sinking feeling I know where this is going.
Mrs. Patel leans in conspiratorially. "That you're really in love."
I freeze, milk carton halfway to the counter.
"We're not—I mean, we're just—" I stumble over the words, my brain short-circuiting.
Because are we?
The forehead kiss. The hand-holding. The quiet mornings and long evenings. The way he looks at me like I'm the answer to a question he's been asking for years.
Is that love?
"Oh, sweetie." Mrs. Patel pats my hand gently. "It's written all over both of you. The way you smile when you talk about him. The way he watches you when you're not looking. That's love."
I open my mouth to deny it. To say she's mistaken. To maintain some kind of plausible deniability.
But I can't.
Because she's right.
I'm in love with Grayson Hart.
The realization hits me like stepping off a curb I didn't see. My heart races.
Oh no.
Oh no, no, no.
"I need to go," I blurt out, suddenly panicked.
Mrs. Patel laughs warmly. "Of course, dear. Let me ring these up for you."
She checks out my groceries while I stand there having a minor existential crisis.
When did that happen?
Was it the sunrise conversations? The wood-chopping disaster? The way he told me I deserve more with such absolute certainty?
Or was it slower? A hundred small moments adding up until suddenly I couldn't imagine my life without him in it?
"That'll be thirty-two fifty," Mrs. Patel says.
I hand her my card numbly.
"Kate?" She studies my face with concern. "Are you alright?"
"Fine," I squeak. "Just... fine."
She hands me my bags, still smiling that knowing smile.
"Love is scary," she says gently. "But it's worth it. Trust me."
I nod, unable to form words, and practically flee the store.
—
I drive back to the cabin in a daze, Mrs. Patel's words echoing in my head.
I park outside the cabin and sit in the car for a moment, trying to collect myself.
Okay. This is fine. People fall in love all the time. It's normal. Natural. Nothing to panic about.
Except we haven't even kissed yet. Except he's still dealing with his past and I'm still figuring out my future. Except everything is complicated and messy and—
The front door opens. Grayson steps onto the porch, squinting in the sunlight, clearly wondering why I'm sitting in the car instead of coming inside.
My heart does that stupid flutter thing it's been doing lately.
Yeah. I'm definitely in love.
I grab the groceries and get out of the car, forcing a smile.
"Need help?" he calls.
"I've got it!"
I make it up the porch steps without dropping anything, which feels like a victory given my current mental state.
Inside, I find Grayson in the kitchen, making lunch. He's chopping vegetables for what looks like a salad, his movements precise and practiced. He's changed into a clean flannel—dark blue that brings out his eyes. His hair is slightly damp like he just showered.
He looks domestic. Comfortable. Content.
I stand in the doorway, watching him, and think: This is what home feels like.
Not a place. Not the cabin or even Maple Glen.
Him.
Grayson is home.
He turns and catches me staring.
"What?" A small smile plays at his lips.
"Nothing." I set the groceries on the counter, my heart full to bursting. "Just... thank you."
His smile fades to something more serious. "For what?"
I step closer, drawn to him like gravity.
"For letting me stay. For being honest. For making me feel like I belong here." I pause. "For seeing me."
His eyes soften. He sets down the knife, wiping his hands on a dish towel.
"Kate—"
"I know we're taking things slow," I continue, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. "I know we're figuring things out. But I need you to know that this—" I gesture between us "—this is real for me. You're real for me."
Grayson walks toward me, slow and deliberate. Each step makes my pulse race faster.
He stops in front of me, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his body.
He cups my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones in that way that makes me forget how to breathe.
"Kate," he says again, his voice rough with emotion.
I look up at him, my heart pounding so hard I'm sure he can hear it.
This is it. He's going to kiss me. Really kiss me.
Finally.
His eyes search mine, asking permission. I give the barest nod.
He leans in.
His phone rings.
We both freeze.
The sound is jarring, intrusive, breaking the moment like glass shattering.
Grayson closes his eyes, his jaw clenching in frustration.
"Ignore it," I whisper.
The phone keeps ringing.
He pulls back slightly, checking the caller ID.
His expression changes. Hardens.
"It's Maxwell," he says.
"So ignore it."
"He's called three times today. It might be important."
"Or it might be him trying to interfere again."
Grayson's hands drop from my face. He steps back, running one hand through his hair.
"I should—"
"No." I catch his hand. "Don't. Whatever he wants, it can wait."
The phone stops ringing.
We stand there in the sudden silence, the moment gone.
Grayson looks torn.
"I'm sorry," he says quietly.
"Don't be sorry. Just..." I squeeze his hand. "Don't let him ruin this. Whatever we're building, it's ours. Not his."
He nods, pulling me closer. I rest my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat gradually slow.
"Soon," he murmurs against my hair. "I promise. Soon."
"I'm holding you to that."
I feel him smile. "Good."
His phone buzzes with a voicemail notification.
We both ignore it.