Chapter 32
Mitch
I wake up with a stiff neck and a dead arm.
For a second, I don’t know where I am. Then I turn my head and see Callie beside me—same bed, her bed, her room—and the baby monitor crackles to life on the nightstand. A soft buzz of feedback, followed by a small, tired whimper from Landon.
That’s what pulled me out of sleep.
I didn’t mean to fall asleep here.
Last night, after we finally got Landon to take the medicine and he calmed down a little, I told Callie I was heading out. I had my boots on. Hand on the doorknob. I even opened it.
Then he cried again.
So I waited.
When he settled, I sat down on the couch—just for a minute, I told myself. Just in case he woke back up and Callie needed help again.
And I’m glad I stayed. Because she did.
She wouldn’t have called me. I know that. She would’ve handled it on her own, exhausted and quiet and stubborn. So when he started up again, I went back upstairs.
After that, everything blurs together—the crying, the feeding, checking his temperature, pacing the room, taking turns rocking him. Callie crying too, at one point. It felt like the morning would never come.
But eventually he went down.
She’s tucked under the blankets, I’m stretched out on top of them, still dressed, boots kicked off somewhere I don’t remember. I think I told her I’d leave in ten minutes if he didn’t wake up again.
The sun is just starting to creep through the window. Callie stirs and blinks a few times, disoriented, then her eyes land on me.
“Oh,” she whispers.
“Hey,” I say quietly. “I, uh…fell asleep.”
She nods, like she already knew that. “Obviously.” She sits up and stares at the monitor for a moment before she rubs her hands over her face.
“He still asleep?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she murmurs.
I let out a slow breath and sit up, my neck kinked, but I swing my legs over the side of the bed. The room feels warmer than it should, heavier.
“I gotta go,” I say quietly.
“I know,” she whispers.
I stand and grab my boots. Before I leave, I press a quick kiss to the top of her head and leave in a quiet yet quick manner.
* * *
Luke and I are parked under a strip of shade, the truck idling while the AC wheezes like it’s about to give up. We’re both already sweated through our shirts and we’re not even halfway through our day. Luke’s got his lunch balanced on his thigh; mine’s on the console, but I’m not that hungry.
“I accidentally stayed over at Callie’s last night,” I say.
Luke freezes midbite, slowly turning his head. “You what?”
“Relax,” I add immediately. “Nothing happened. Landon had a fever.”
Luke leans back against the seat, shaking his head. “Man, you’re playing with fire.”
“I was pacing around the room with a screaming three-month-old,” I mutter. “Not exactly a mood.”
Luke snorts despite himself. “You still proposing this weekend?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “No doubt.”
“You nervous?”
“Out of my mind.”
Luke laughs softly. “Good. Means you’re not stupid.”
I laugh.
“She’ll say yes this time, right?”
“Yeah, we’ve talked about it enough.”
Luke swallows the food in his mouth. “Good.”
He stares out the windshield for a long second, jaw tight. “Sometimes I think about asking Maddie,” he says finally.
I glance over, not surprised. “Yeah?”
He shrugs “I mean…it’s not like I’ve got a ring or anything. But I think about getting one.”
“What stops you?”
He scoffs quietly. “Everything.”
I wait.
“She’s changing,” he says. “College is really changing her, and I don’t wanna be the guy who proposes because he’s scared she’s gonna outgrow him.”
“Then don’t,” I say.
He just sighs aggressively like he’s already come to that conclusion and doesn’t like it.
“I love her so damn much. But half the time it feels like I’m trying to hold onto something that doesn’t wanna stay still.”
“That’s tough.”
“Yeah,” he mutters, tossing his lunch container back in the box and pulling out onto the road.
I text Callie before we start the next job, checking in on her and Landon. She says his fever broke and she hasn’t given him more Tylenol—probably a tooth. She’s worried about going away this weekend now.
I tell her that between the six of us, we can take shifts.
She laughs, knowing I’m only half kidding.
When I get home, Macy’s putting groceries away, already showered and in pajamas, a bright green face mask painted on her face.
She looks like Shrek.
She immediately pesters me about not coming home last night. No surprise there. I lucked out this morning. She was still asleep when I left. Then she launches into a full report about how Mrs. Banks asked—again—if Callie and I are engaged. Swore she thought we already were.
“She’s nice,” Macy says. “But she’s got her nose so far in everyone’s business, you’d think she was writing a book about you.”
I agree and head upstairs. Brad calls while I’m fresh out of the shower. He’s on speaker while I’m wrapped in a towel, swiping on deodorant and trying not to drip water all over the bathroom floor.
“So what’s the plan?” he asks.
“Plan?” I say, digging through the drawer for a clean T-shirt.
“Yeah,” he presses. “When you sealing the deal?”
I pause, phone pressed between my shoulder and ear. My eyes flick to the hallway like Callie might somehow hear me from the other side of the wall.
“I don’t know,” I say finally. “When it feels right.”
Brad chuckles, low and knowing. “Good answer.”
“You fishing for details?” I ask.
“Always,” he admits. “But I’ll let it slide. You sound like a man on the brink.”
I laugh quietly. “Appreciate the confidence.”
“Hey,” he adds, more serious now, “you guys will be great. You already are.”
“Yeah,” I say, though my chest feels tight.
We hang up, and the bathroom goes quiet again, just the hum of the fan and my own breathing.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror longer than I mean to. Because the truth is, Brad’s right, and I have to find peace in that.
* * *
The rest of the week passes in pieces. Long workdays that melt together under the heat, sweat-soaked shirts and sunburned necks. Evenings filled with short check-ins—How’s Landon? Did he nap? You good?—nothing heavy, nothing urgent. Just enough to stay connected.
By Friday, my nerves feel frayed in a way I can’t fully explain. I’m excited. I’m ready. But there’s something heavier riding underneath it all. This weekend isn’t just lake water and bonfires and fireworks.
It’s a turning point.
When I pull into the driveway, Callie’s front door is already open, only the screen door holding back the thick July air. The porch is crowded—duffel bags, totes, a folded portable crib, a diaper bag, the cooler. Baby stuff everywhere. Way more than we’ve ever had to take to the lake.
I shut the truck off and just sit there for a second, taking it all in.
Before, trips meant a bag, maybe two. A cooler tossed in the bed. That was it. Now, I’m mentally mapping space, trying to figure out how everything’s going to fit.
Macy’s not coming with us—she’s riding up with Luke and Maddie—which helps. But still. This is different. Everything is different.
But seeing Callie in the doorway, prepared, ready to roll, makes me smile and take a deep breath. Everything will be great.
We’re on the road about twenty minutes later, the truck humming beneath us.
Landon’s tucked into his car seat, wide-eyed and entertained by the little mirror Callie clipped onto the headrest so she can see him without twisting around.
He keeps making faces at himself, mouth opening and closing like he’s having a conversation only he understands.
Callie’s quiet beside me, hands folded in her lap, eyes flicking between the road and the mirror every few seconds. I know that look. She’s running through lists in her head—what she packed, what she might’ve forgotten, whether the baby sunscreen’s in the right pocket of the diaper bag.
I reach over and lace my fingers through hers.
“You packed more than we’ll need,” I say gently.
She exhales, smirking like she knows it’s true. “I know. I just…there’s nothing up there. I basically had to bring the whole house.”
I chuckle. “Fair.”
We stop once on the way—Landon needs to eat, needs a diaper change, needs the world to slow down for a minute. After that, he’s out cold, mouth slack, fists relaxed, the kind of deep baby sleep that feels like a win.
By the time we pull into the gravel drive, we’re the last ones there.
Brad’s truck is parked furthest up, Luke’s beside it, tailgate still down but empty—clearly already unloaded.
I cut the engine and grab Landon’s car seat carefully, easing it out without waking him.
Callie slings the diaper bag over her shoulder, grabs the smaller tote, and we head up the steps together.
The cabin’s already alive.
Laughter drifts out through the screen door, overlapping voices and easy teasing. I hear Macy’s voice first—something about Callie’s strawberry oatmeal bars—and then Brad arguing that Callie always says she’s going to make them, like it’s a personal promise to him.
I push the door open with my foot.
“Hey, hey—there they are!”
Everyone looks up at once. Maddie and Macy are already in swimwear—Maddie in a bright pink bikini top, her hair braided down her back, Macy in cutoff shorts and a sheer cover-up, ponytail high and messy.
Brad’s in American flag swim trunks, already halfway into lake mode, and Luke’s still got a cutoff on with dark blue trunks, sweat already darkening the fabric.
“You made good time,” Luke says. “We’ve only been here, like, half an hour.”
I nod. “Yeah, he did good for his first long ride.”
Brad steps closer, bending to peer into the carrier now that Landon’s eyes are open, wide and curious. “What’s up, man,” he says seriously. “You ready to party, buddy?”
Landon blinks at him, unimpressed.
Callie bursts out laughing before I can say anything. “The only kind of drunk he’ll be getting is milk.”
“Dang,” Brad says, straightening. “Living wild already.”
Luke claps his hands together. “Someone get this kid a floatie.”
Callie shakes her head, smiling as she reaches for the carrier handle.
I take a glance at everyone’s outfits once more, “You guys going swimming already?” I ask, glancing at the towels draped over the chairs.
“Oh yeah,” Macy says. “Ask Luke about his truck.”
Luke laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “AC quit on me on the way here.”
“Yeah,” Macy says, crossing her arms, though she’s smiling now. “And I couldn’t even open the back windows because all our stuff was stacked to the ceiling. I sat in the middle seat. Sweating. Trapped.”
“Oh, it wasn’t that bad,” Luke argues, already grinning.
Maddie doesn’t miss a beat. “Says the guy who ate bean burritos for lunch.”
The room erupts—Luke laughing the hardest, hands up in surrender.
I glance over at Callie while Luke and Macy keep going back and forth. “I’ll unload the truck,” I tell her quietly. “You hang out in here, get settled. I’ll grab everything.”
She nods, then looks around at everyone. “Don’t wait on us,” she says with a laugh. “We’ve got way more stuff now.”
Brad steps forward, already reaching for his shoes. “I’ll help,” he says. “That way we can all go at once.”
Callie smiles at me, soft, grateful, and carefully lifts Landon from his car seat, holding him against her chest. The sight still gets me every time.