Chapter 16
Sixteen
GRAY
That morning conversation with Rhea has become my anchor.
Even a quick, five-minute chat over her latest story about Mrs. Patterson’s granddaughter or Mrs. Chen’s newest romance arrival at Ink & Embers Bookstore sets the tone for everything that follows.
During slower periods, we text throughout the day.
I find myself holding my phone a little too often, waiting for a sign that she’s thinking about me, too.
The evenings have fallen into their own pattern.
Every night, I find some excuse to see her.
Bringing her dinner when she works late, walking her home when Emma ends her own shift early, or just sitting on the steps outside her building talking until the mountain air gets too chilly to ignore.
It's never planned, never official, just an easy companionship that feels as natural as breathing.
But lately, I’ve started to worry that I’m coming on too strong.
The anxiety sneaks up on me, making me question the comfort I feel when we’re together.
I’m always the one reaching out, always suggesting we hang out.
What if I’m overwhelming her? What if she’s just being polite?
That fear sits just under the surface, sometimes growing bigger, a shadow from my past that won’t quite go away.
I remember how much it hurt to be rejected before, thinking I understood someone, only to realize I was wrong.
There are times when that old dread comes back out of nowhere, making me worry I’ll fall into the same patterns.
The fear of losing control and pushing her away feels a lot like the fear of slipping back into old habits I’ve worked so hard to break.
This morning is just like always. I order a coffee, an apple-cinnamon scone, and engage in a few minutes of easy conversation while Emma works behind the counter.
“What time does Rhea come on shift?” I ask, hoping to run into her in passing since she didn’t work the early morning shift today.
Emma offers a kind smile. “I sent Rhea a message last night, giving her the day off. She was looking more harried than usual yesterday.”
I immediately worry I’m the reason for her stress, so I go inward, politely thank Emma, and quietly accept my coffee. Back outside, I look across the street at the beautiful windows in Rhea’s living room, but the curtains are still drawn.
Instead of worrying about what I might’ve done wrong, I realize she’s probably just sleeping in on a last-minute day off. The thought of her resting just across the street brings a smile to my face. She works hard, so she deserves it.
Returning to the cabin, I drink my caffeine, eat my scone, and break out my guitar to work on a song I’ve been concerned about finding the right sound for.
I do my best to occupy myself all morning, but today, there’s no midday text.
My phone stays quiet. I keep checking it, hoping for that familiar buzz, but by noon, the silence in the cabin feels heavy.
Without her usual messages, laughter over my romance novel jokes, and her perfectly timed GIFs, everything seems off.
Rhea is not a late sleeper. Even on her days off, she's usually up by eight, texting me about whatever book she stayed up too late reading or sharing pictures of some elaborate breakfast she's decided to make for herself. But radio silence until the afternoon is completely out of character.
By one o'clock, I'm pacing the cabin's deck again, earning concerned looks from Andrew.
“She's fine. People are allowed to sleep in on their day off.” Andrew tries to be helpful, but I know my girl.
“Rhea doesn't sleep in. Ever. She's like a human rooster.” Opening a coffee shop early in the mornings is the perfect job for her.
“Maybe she had a wild Saturday night? She might’ve stayed out past nine-thirty and lived dangerously for once in her life.” Zep throws out, being a complete asshole and unhelpful.
The joke falls flat because I can’t shake the feeling in my chest. The unease just takes over. What if something happened? What if she’s sick? Or what if she’s decided she doesn’t want me around, and this is her way of pulling back?
When my phone finally buzzes at 2:15, I practically dive for it.
Rhea: I just woke up! Can you believe it? What are you guys up to today?
Relief floods through me so completely that I have to sit down. The abrupt shift from tension to calm leaves me momentarily breathless, my muscles releasing as quickly as they had tensed. I take a moment to calm down a little more before responding.
Gray: Just hanging around the cabin. You okay? You never sleep this late.
Rhea: Confession: I stayed up to finish “just one more chapter,” which turned into half the book. Woke up when my e-reader startled me at four this morning. Very dignified.
I'm grinning like an idiot at the mental image of Rhea getting attacked by her own reading device.
Gray: Occupational hazard of book addiction. We missed you this morning.
Rhea: I missed you, too. Can I come up to the cabin for a bit? I want to hang out if you're not busy.
I stare at the message for a full thirty seconds, convinced I'm misreading it. She wants to come here. She's asking me to hang out. For the first time in three weeks, I'm not the one initiating contact.
Gray: Of course! We're not doing anything important.
Rhea: Perfect. Give me an hour to make myself presentable. See you soon.
“Rhea's coming over,” I announce to the room, probably sounding way too excited about it.
“We gathered that from your ridiculous grin. What's the occasion?” Parker grins.
“She asked to come hang out. She never asks first.” I show my hand, letting the guys know how vulnerable I’ve been with her, but I can’t be bothered to care if they know I’m struggling without Rhea.
Andrew looks up from his guitar with understanding in his eyes. He knows how carefully I've been walking this line and how afraid I am of pushing too hard or wanting too much.
“That's good, brother. It means she's getting comfortable with the idea of you being in Dogwood Hollow.”
An hour later, I hear Rhea’s car in the driveway. I hurry to the window. She gets out, smiling so brightly it feels like the whole place lights up. When she sees me, she waves, and I wave back from inside.
“Gray! Can you help me unload?” she calls out.
Help her unload? I'm already moving toward the door, curiosity and delight warring in my chest. “What did you bring?”
“Fall projects,” she says mysteriously as I jog down the porch steps.
I reach her car just as she's opening the back hatch, and my eyebrows shoot up. The entire cargo area is filled with pumpkins. Seven of them, in various sizes, from massive down to perfectly round mini ones.
“Jesus, woman. How many pumpkins does one person need?” I ask in mock concern.
“It's not for one person. It’s for seven people. Well, six and a half, if we're counting Cody.” She chuckles at her own joke, and I join her.
“Hey!” comes an indignant shout from Cody on the porch, where the rest of the guys have gathered to see what's happening.
Within minutes, we've formed a pumpkin brigade, passing the gourds from car to cabin like we're handling precious cargo. Rhea directs the operation with the efficiency of a woman who's clearly put thought into this.
“Okay, those three big ones go on the kitchen counter.” She points to the spot she’s indicating. “The medium ones can go on the dining table, and the little ones wherever they look cute.”
“What exactly are we doing with all these pumpkins?” Wyatt asks, settling a particularly hefty one on the counter.
“Carving them, obviously. It's almost Halloween, and this place needs a spookier atmosphere.” Rhea heads back to her car. “But that's not all.”
She returns with two large boxes that she sets on the kitchen island with a flourish. “Halloween decorations. I figured you guys probably don't have any, and the village goes all out for trick-or-treaters.”
“Trick-or-treaters come up here?” Cody peers into one of the boxes.
“A few brave families with older kids make the trek. But more importantly, you're all volunteering at the Mountain Mornings Cafe booth in the village on Halloween night. Emma and I could use the help.” Her bossing us around arouses me in a way that makes it difficult to think of anything else but her ordering me around in the bedroom. We’ve never fully had a lot of time to experiment in the sex department because I was drunk for a large part of our relationship.
Parker's head snaps up so fast I'm surprised he doesn't give himself whiplash. “Emma will be there?”
Rhea grins. “All evening. We're serving hot chocolate and cider, along with some Halloween-themed pastries. And before you ask, yes, you all must dress up. No exceptions.”
I catch the way Parker tries to look nonchalant about Emma's involvement and file it away for later teasing. Apparently, Zep isn’t the only one developing feelings for a local woman.
“What happens after trick-or-treating?” Andrew’s already unpacking fake spider webs from one of the boxes.
“The adults take over. There's this whole parade down Main Street, kind of like Mardi Gras but with more ghost costumes and significantly less nudity. Very family-friendly debauchery.”
“Sounds perfect,” I say, and I mean it. The thought of joining in small-town Halloween traditions and being part of a normal, wholesome event, and far removed from the music industry appeals to me more than I could’ve guessed.
For the next three hours, we turn the cabin into a Halloween wonderland.
The scent of pumpkin and a hint of woodsmoke fills the air, making everything feel cozy.
Rhea has thoughts on everything, from where to put the fake ravens to how to hang the spider webs.
She’s clearly in her element, leading the decorating with the same focus she uses when making coffee.