32. Cal
CAL
“ I will tell you everything. I promise,” I say, voice barely above a whisper.
Margot doesn’t answer.
She just stares out the window, her arms folded tightly like she’s holding herself together.
The silence between us is thick, louder than any fight we could’ve had.
Her distance is a knife to my gut, cold and cutting deep.
She’s leaned away from me—not just physically, but emotionally too.
And I feel it. Oh, I feel it like ice spreading through my chest.
I grip the wheel harder to keep my hands from trembling. But they still shake.
I blew it. I should’ve told her. I meant to tell her. I kept telling myself I needed more time, just a little more time. I thought if I could show her who I really was first, it would somehow make the truth easier to swallow. But now—now I might’ve lost that chance.
She doesn’t even look at me.
I try to speak again, but my throat’s tight. My body’s thrumming with panic, but I can’t let it show. I have to hold it together. For her. For us. If there’s still an us.
As we pull into the driveway, I spot a figure near the porch steps—arms crossed, eyes sharp behind her glasses.
It’s Thea.
I blink. It’s nearly midnight, and she never comes out this late. Shoot, she rarely comes out at all unless she suddenly runs out of food or one of her mysterious walkabouts around the orchard. But here she is—standing like a sentinel, waiting.
Margot notices her too and frowns.
Did something happen?
The moment we park and get out, Thea starts walking toward us. Her gaze is locked on me, not unkind, but… laser-focused. Analytical.
“Thea?” Margot asks. “Is something wrong?”
Thea stops a few feet away and lifts her chin slightly. “You’re Cal Hale,” she says, tone flat but certain. “You created TechBit.”
Margot stiffens beside me.
I don’t move. I can’t. It feels like I’ve been caught in a trap I set for myself.
Thea’s eyes don’t waver. “It’s you. Isn’t it?”
It’s over. I feel it in my chest—like something collapsing in slow motion.
I turn to Margot, desperate to explain, to say something, anything that might hold this together. But she’s not even looking at me.
She’s staring at Thea.
“What did you call him?” she asks, her voice low and sharp.
Thea’s face falls instantly. She looks from me to Margot, guilt written all over her. “Oh, you didn’t know? I’m so sorry?—”
Margot cuts her off. “Thea! Tell me who he is!”
I want to step in. I should. But I can’t move. My feet are rooted to the gravel, my heart pounding so loud I can barely hear Thea when she says, “This guy is a billionaire tech genius.”
She lets out a nervous laugh. “If this isn’t already awkward, I’d be asking for his autograph right now.”
Thea must feel it—the shift in the air, the tension clinging to every breath—because she backs away with a stammered “Sorry” and practically sprints toward the house.
And then it’s just us.
Margot turns to me slowly, arms crossed over her chest like she’s holding herself together. Her eyes… I’ve never seen them like this. So hurt.
That’s somehow worse.
“I should’ve told you,” I say, my voice raw.
“From the beginning. But I-I didn’t know how.
I was tired, Margot. Burnt out. I wanted to disappear for a while, and then I met you.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I could breathe again.
Like I could be someone else—just Cal, not Calvin Hale. ”
She doesn’t say anything. Just looks at me. That quiet burns more than shouting ever could.
So I keep talking.
“I sold TechBit. Yeah. For five billion. I left L.A., walked away from everything—my company, my board, my apartment, all of it. Because I couldn’t take the pressure anymore. And I didn’t want to be worshipped or chased or used. I just wanted peace. And then I found your inn. Found you.”
Still, nothing.
“I never lied about how I felt,” I add softly. “That was real. It’s still real.”
“Was it you who sent the inn money the other day? The anonymous donor?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
I swallow hard. There’s no point lying now. “Yeah.”
She lets out a laugh—sharp and broken—and it shatters something in me. “Oh, I’m such a fool.”
“Margot—” I step closer, reaching for her arm, desperate to explain, to fix this somehow.
But she jerks away from me like I’ve burned her. “Don’t. Don’t touch me.”
Her eyes are glassy now, filling fast. “You lied to me, Cal. Every single day, you let me believe you were someone else.”
“I didn’t mean to?—”
“You let me fall for someone who doesn’t even exist,” she snaps, voice cracking. “I asked you again and again if there was something I didn’t know. And you just—what? Thought I’d be okay with finding out like this? From a photographer and my little sister?”
“I was trying to protect what we had,” I say, my chest tight. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“Then stay away from me,” she says through her teeth, wiping at her face. “Stay away from me. You and your stupid lies.”
And then she turns and walks away—back into the house, into the dark.
And I let her.
Because right now, I don’t think I deserve to follow.
I stand in the dark for a long time, the porch light from the inn flickering like it’s mocking me. I don’t move. I can’t. Every cell in my body is telling me not to go inside—that I’ve messed it all up beyond repair.
Eventually, my legs start moving, like they’re not mine anymore. I cross the gravel slowly, quietly. The night’s air bites at my skin, but I deserve it. I deserve worse.
The orchard house glows warm in the distance, like a beacon. And I head straight for it.
Sam is sitting outside in his rocking chair, looking like a man who has the whole world figured out. He sees me coming and slows his rhythm, eyes steady on me.
I stop in front of him. I don’t say hi. Don’t ask to sit. I just start talking.
“I lied to her,” I say. My voice is hoarse. “About who I am. About everything.”
Sam doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t even blink.
“I’m not just some guy passing through,” I say. “My name’s Calvin Hale. I started TechBit. I sold it. I burned out. I wanted to disappear. So I came here. And I didn’t tell her. I should have. I know I should have.”
When he looks confused, I slow down and explain everything to him. He gestures for me to sit, and the words rush out of me like water from a broken tap.
I pause, breathing hard, heart thudding like I’ve just run miles instead of spoken a few sentences. “I kept meaning to. I told myself I’d earn her trust first. That I’d be honest when it mattered. But it mattered the whole time. And now… she hates me.”
Sam leans forward a little. He’s quiet, watching me like he’s measuring every part of my soul.
“I never meant to hurt her,” I whisper.
He nods once, slowly. Then says, “You planning to fix it?”
“I don’t know how.”
“Well, son,” he says, “then that’s the first thing you’ve got to figure out.
Margot’s a proud girl. Always has been. She’s got this spine made of steel, just like her mama.
But what most people don’t see is how much she feels underneath it.
She doesn’t hand out her trust easily, and when she does? It means everything to her.”
I nod slowly, throat tightening.
“She let you in,” he says, eyes locking on mine. “You lied to her.”
“I know,” I whisper. “I know.”
“I don’t have any big advice or magic words for you, Cal.” He sighs. “Only thing I can tell you is this—if you’re sorry, really sorry, then you’re going to have to show it. With honesty. With consistency. With work. Now go figure it out.”
Sam’s words might be intended to encourage, but they don’t help me.
I feel alone and ostracized, even though it’s all in my head.
I need something concrete, but as I walk away, I realize that’s the easy way out, and Sam is right to hold back.
This is my mistake, and I must put in the work to fix it myself.