22. Finally, Us
Finally, Us
Levi
“Ishould really shower,” I said again, though I made no move toward the bathroom. I couldn’t seem to let go of her hand, couldn’t quite believe this was real.
Cassie laughed. “Oh, you definitely need a shower. But first, she reached up on her tippy-toes and kissed me one more time. “You smell.”
"I have been kinda busy today."
"Yes, I can see that, but what happened to your forehead?” Cassie reached up and pulled my hair back from my forehead."
I reached up to touch the spot she was focused on, feeling the evidence of where a piece of falling debris caught me. Just one of those small injuries that come with volunteer firefighting, but the concern in her voice made my chest feel warm.
“It’s just a scrape. The helmet shifted when we were pulling the hose.”
She gave me a disbelieving look, disappeared into her bathroom, then came back holding a wet washcloth and a first aid kit.
I grabbed her hands before she could grab the kitchen chair. “Shower first, clean up later.” I kissed her on the nose and went to shower before she could protest.
After I’d showered and was smelling a whole lot better, I stepped out to find Cassie in the kitchen, popping open a can of soda she’d stashed in the back of the pantry like contraband. I crept up behind her, slipped my arms around her waist, and kissed the nape of her neck.
She laughed, the sound quick and surprised, and turned to face me.
For a moment, she slipped away, just long enough to pull out a chair and gesture for me to sit.
When she settled across from me, her smile faded into that sharp, steady focus she usually reserved for students who swore the dog had eaten their homework.
I sank into the chair, suddenly feeling like a kid called to the principal’s office.
“Your helmet shifted, huh?” She shook her head, disbelieving.
“Hold still,” she instructed, using an alcohol wipe to clean the wound, then dabbing at the scrape with an antiseptic wipe that stung more than the injury itself.
“You don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do,” she said simply. “Now hold still, you’re as bad as my students.”
Her actions spoke volumes. I was almost willing to overlook the student comment, but I’m not that kind of guy. Naturally, I had to tease her, just a little, so I reached out and tickled her side.
“Am not.” I protested as she doubled over in laughter.
I’d been taking care of people for most of my adult life.
First in the military, then here in Everwood, looking out for family, neighbors, retired military, and anyone else who needed help.
It was who I was, what I did, so automatic I rarely thought about it.
But having someone want to take care of me? That was new territory.
“There,” she said, pressing a bandage over the cleaned scrape. “Much better.”
Her fingers lingered on my face for a moment, tracing the edge of the bandage. I caught her hand and pressed it flat against my cheek. Her palm was soft, and her touch made everything feel right.
“Cassie,” I started, then stopped.
“What?”
“I love you.”
The words came out simple and certain, without the elaborate buildup. Just the truth, plain and clear.
Her face lit up. Curiosity melting into joy.
“I love you too,” she said, and her voice carried the same simple certainty mine did. “I’ve been in love with you for months. I just didn’t know how to say it.”
“Months?”
She nodded. “Since the day I got the job at the school. Maybe even before that. I kept telling myself it was friendship, or just the comfort of having someone in my life. But it was love.”
“What was it?” I teased, clearly wanting to hear it again.
“Love,” she said again, smiling. “Complicated, inconvenient, absolutely terrifying love.”
I laughed, pulling her closer until she was curled in my lap, her head on my shoulder. “Why terrifying?”
“Because I’d never felt anything like it before. Because it made me want things I never thought to want. Because loving you meant admitting that this place, this life, wasn’t a part of the plans I’d made before I got here.”
“And now?”
“Now I know it is.” She tilted her head to look at me, her eyes bright. “I have a feeling you were always a part of the plan. I just didn’t realize it. Until now.”
I kissed her again, slower this time. She melted against me and made that small sound when my hand tangled in her hair. This was right. All of it. The weight of her in my arms, the taste of her lips, the way she held onto me. She’d finally found something she didn’t want to let go of.
When we broke apart, we were both breathing hard.
“You know what’s funny?” she said, her fingers playing with the collar of my clean shirt.
“What?”
“We’ve been dancing around this for months. All those careful conversations, all that polite distance, all those moments when we almost kissed and then didn’t. And then did.” She shook her head, laughing. “We could have been doing this the whole time.”
“I know. Took you long enough?” I laughed and poked at her side.
“Yeah, but I’m ready now.”
“Good,” I said, kissing her forehead. “Because I’ve been ready since day one.”
“Day one? Really?”
“The moment you stepped out of that tow truck, looking ready to fight the whole world but trying to be polite about it.” I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I looked at you and thought, ’There she is. There’s the woman who’s going to change everything.’”
“I was a mess that day.”
“You were perfect that day. Fierce and stubborn and trying so hard to be independent. I knew right then that if you ever decided to stay, it would be the best thing that ever happened to me.”
She was quiet for a moment, and when she looked at me, there were tears in her eyes.
“What?” I asked, suddenly concerned.
“I can’t believe it took me this long to figure it out.”
“Now, before we solve world hunger, can we eat?” My stomach was ready to eat its way to dinner.
The slow cooker in her kitchen smelled good, and the guest house glowed with soft evening light. Outside, I could hear the quiet sounds of Everwood settling down for the night. Car doors closing, voices calling goodnight, teenagers laughing as they walked home from whatever they’d been up to.
It was peaceful and ordinary and absolutely perfect.
“I should probably call the station,” I said eventually, though I made no move to reach for my phone. “Let them know I made it home safe.”
“Home?” she asked, a smile in her voice.
“Yep.” I knew exactly what I was saying. Home wasn’t my house anymore, or even Everwood specifically. Home was wherever she was.
She sighed with contentment. “I like the sound of that.”
“Me too.”
Eventually, we managed to separate long enough for her to plate dinner and open a bottle of wine she’d been saving for a special occasion.
I gathered all my smoky things and placed them outside to air out a bit before putting them in the washer.
When I emerged from her laundry room a few moments later, I found her setting the table by the window, and my heart skipped a beat.
It was such a commonplace task, but it felt warm.
“Better?” I asked, running a hand through my still-damp hair.
“Much,” she said, though the way she was looking at me suggested she hadn’t actually minded the smoky, rumpled version either. “Although I have to admit, there was something appealing about the whole ‘heroic firefighter’ look. Kind of a yummy look.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for future reference.”
The food was simple but perfect: roast with potatoes and vegetables from the farmer’s market, bread from Dot’s bakery, and wine.
But the best part was the conversation. The easy way we talked.
She told me about the phone call with her father and the moment she knew for sure that declining the Miller’s Pass job was the right choice.
I told her about the barn fire, and why farmers shouldn’t run their own electrical.
About the way the whole volunteer crew worked together with neighbors from down the road, and the Doc’s dog herding the cows away from the fire.
“That’s what I love about this place,” she said, refilling our wine glasses.
“What the Doc’s dog herding cattle?”
“No, smarty pants. The way you look in your gear.”
After dinner, we took our wine glasses and migrated to the couch, her legs across my lap, my hand resting on her ankle - it felt natural.
Her eyebrows pulled together. “Can I ask you something?” she said eventually.
“Anything.”
“What would you have done if I’d taken the job? If I’d decided to leave?”
“I would have let you go,” I said honestly. “I would have helped you pack, driven behind you to the first highway rest stop, wished you well, and pretended my heart wasn’t breaking.”
“Really?”
“Really. Because loving someone means wanting them to be happy, even if their happiness doesn’t include you.”
She was quiet for a long moment, processing this.
“I’m glad you didn’t have to do that.”
“Me too. More than you know.”
Outside, the sky had cleared completely, showing stars so bright they looked like diamonds scattered across black velvet. We moved to the window to get a better view, and I wrapped my arms around her from behind, resting my chin on the top of her head.
“Beautiful night,” I observed.
“Perfect night,” she corrected. “Clear sky, warm house, excellent company, and nowhere else I need to be.”
“Nowhere else you want to be?”
“Nowhere else I want to be,” she confirmed, leaning back against my chest. “This is exactly where I belong.”
I turned her in my arms, so she was facing me, her face turned up in the soft light from the streetlamp outside. She was beautiful.
“I love you, Cassie Grant,”
“I love you too, Levi Marshall,” she replied, her voice warm with certainty. “And I’m staying put.”
This time, when I kissed her, it was hot and heavy.
When we broke apart, she was smiling and biting her bottom lip.
“So, what happens now?”
“Now we build something together,” I said. “Until we can’t remember what life was before this.”
“I’d like that.”
“Good,” I said, pulling her closer. “Because I’m planning on keeping you for a very long time.”
She laughed. “I’m counting on it.”