Chapter Ten – Caleb
Best picnic ever, Caleb’s bear said with a contented sigh. Although it would be even better if you shifted and let me say hello properly.
Not happening today, Caleb replied as he glanced at his mate sitting beside him, her face tilted toward the sky, eyes half-closed, as she listened to the sound of the stream. I don’t want to spoil this moment.
What if it didn’t spoil it? his bear pressed. What if Hannah finding out that she is our mate is the best news she ever heard?
Caleb huffed a quiet laugh. She might feel that way. But first would come shock. Tension. Maybe even fear.
And he didn’t want that for her. Not today.
He hadn’t known Hannah long, but from what he’d witnessed in that short time, her life was anything but settled and secure.
“This is a special place.” Hannah turned and smiled at him in a way that reached deep into his soul.
Caleb’s heart ached for her. Not in a pitying way. In a wanting way.
For a few quiet minutes, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was easy rather than awkward.
The stream murmured beside them, the water clear enough that light fractured into bright shards across its surface.
Hannah shifted beside him, sitting up and brushing crumbs from her fingers. “I kind of want to put my feet in,” she said, nodding toward the water. “Is it freezing?”
Caleb smiled. “It is cold. But not unbearable.”
“That sounds like a challenge,” she said, already scooting off the blanket.
Before he could warn her properly, she kicked off her shoes and rolled up the cuffs of her trousers, laughter bubbling out of her as she tested the water with her toes.
“Oh...” She sucked in a breath. “Okay. That’s cold.”
Caleb laughed, the sound surprising him with how easy it felt. “You get used to it.”
She shot him a look over her shoulder. “You say that as if you’ve done this before.”
“My brothers and I used to meet up with my cousins. We spent many long, happy days playing in these woods, paddling in this stream,” he said, standing and joining her at the bank. “Summer days usually ended with numb feet and wet trousers.”
Hannah grinned, then deliberately lowered both feet into the stream, hissing softly as she adjusted to the shock.
After a moment, she sighed. “Oh. That’s actually... really nice.”
Caleb sat beside her, boots still on, watching the way her toes stirred the current. She leaned back on her hands, face tilted up again, eyes closed. The sun caught in her hair, glinting off copper strands that the breeze teased loose from her ponytail.
“I never did things like this,” she said lightly, almost offhand. “Never played in woods or paddled in streams.”
Something in her tone snagged at him. Not sadness exactly. More like sorrow. For a child who had missed out on such simple joys he’d taken for granted.
She’s opening up, his bear murmured. She trusts us.
“What did you do instead?” Caleb asked quietly.
Hannah shrugged. “Stayed busy. Stayed practical.” She wiggled her toes in the water, sending ripples dancing outward. “This feels very... indulgent.”
Caleb watched her, every instinct in him pulling closer even as he stayed where he was, letting her set the pace. He didn’t want to rush her, didn’t want to risk making her shut down.
“You deserve indulgent,” he said simply.
She laughed at that, but the sound faded as she opened her eyes and looked down at the stream, watching the water slide past like time itself.
“Maybe,” she said. “I’m just not very good at it.”
The words lingered between them, gentle on the surface, carrying more weight underneath.
Caleb felt it then. The faint shift. The moment when playfulness gave way to something more fragile. More real.
And he stayed still, ready for whatever she wanted to share. Because he’d been waiting his whole life for a moment like this.
A moment with her.
Hannah slipped her feet a little farther into the stream, inch by inch, until the water lapped at her ankles. She exhaled sharply as the cold bit again, but she didn’t pull back, didn’t retreat.
“You’re braver than you think,” he said.
She glanced back at him, one eyebrow lifting. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do.”
She smiled at that, but there was something thoughtful behind it now, her gaze drifting back to the water as she nudged a smooth stone with her toes and watched it tumble away downstream.
“I think,” she said slowly, “I just didn’t grow up believing there were things like this meant for me.”
The words were light. Casual. But they carried a heaviness. A weight he wished he could share.
His bear stirred inside him, quiet now. Listening.
“What do you mean?” Caleb asked, keeping his voice steady, careful not to spoil the moment.
Hannah shrugged. “Little things. Fun things.” She gestured vaguely around them.
The stream. The trees. The open sky above the canopy.
“For as long as I can remember, I was always taught to be... sensible. Practical. If something didn’t serve a purpose, it was unnecessary.
If it wasn’t productive, it was selfish. ”
Caleb frowned. “You were a kid.”
She let out a soft breath that might have been a laugh. “Yes. But that didn’t really factor into it.”
The water murmured between them, flowing on as it always had.
“I don’t remember anyone ever encouraging me to go play,” she continued, still watching the current. “Or to climb trees. Or to get dirty and come home hungry and tired.” She paused. “I learned pretty early that being useful was safer than being... carefree.”
Caleb’s heart ached for her. For that sensible child.
His bear rumbled low in his chest, not angry, not fierce. Grieving.
“That’s not how it should be,” Caleb whispered.
Hannah smiled again, reflexively, as if to soften the statement. “I turned out fine.”
Caleb didn’t argue. He knew better than to challenge that kind of armor head-on. Instead, he shifted closer and unlaced his boots, rolling his jeans up before sliding his feet into the stream beside hers.
The cold hit hard, stealing his breath for a second, and Hannah laughed outright at the expression he couldn’t quite hide.
“Cold?” she asked lightly.
“Oh, yeah!” he replied, grinning despite himself.
She leaned back on her hands again, shoulders brushing his this time, the contact light but unmistakable. His skin tingled from her touch.
“I think I would’ve liked this,” she said after a moment. “If it had been an option.”
Caleb swallowed.
“It’s not too late,” he said gently.
She hesitated. Just long enough.
“I don’t know. It’s still hard to let go,” she said finally. “The understanding that no one is going to catch me if I fall keeps me on track.”
The words were simple. Plain. But they tore through him all the same.
His bear surged, fierce and aching all at once. We would catch her. Every time.
Caleb closed his eyes briefly, the image rising unbidden. A small girl at the edge of a stream, unsure whether she was allowed to step closer. Watching other children laugh and splash while she stood back, hands clenched, already learning how to hold herself together.
He wanted—goodness, he wanted—to reach across time and pull her into his arms. To tell her it was safe to fall. Safe to play. Safe to be held.
When he opened his eyes, Hannah was watching him, something cautious flickering in her expression, as if she’d revealed more than she’d intended.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I didn’t mean to... overshare.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” Caleb interrupted gently. “Not for this. Not ever.”
She studied his face, searching for something. Pity, maybe. Discomfort. Instead, she found a man who didn’t flinch from what she’d shared. Who never would.
“That wasn’t easy to say,” she admitted.
“I can only imagine.”
It was true; Caleb could only imagine what her life was like with no family to fall back on. It was something he’d always taken for granted.
And to share it with a relative stranger... that took courage.
She exhaled slowly, as if setting down something she’d been carrying for a long time. “I guess... being here makes it feel different. Like maybe there’s another way. Like I don’t have to fight so hard for everything.”
Caleb turned fully toward her then, the movement deliberate. “You don’t.”
Her breath caught at the certainty in his voice.
His bear pressed close, unwavering. She will never have to fight for our love.
No. It’s already freely given. Caleb didn’t say the words aloud. Not yet. But he let them bloom and grow in his chest, solid and unmovable. Unshakable. Like the mountains around them.
They sat there together, feet numb from the cold, shoulders touching, the stream flowing around them. Above them, leaves rustled in the breeze. Somewhere nearby, a bird took flight.
Hannah leaned into him just a fraction more; it felt deliberate, not accidental.
And Caleb stayed exactly where he was.
Ready for whatever she needed next.
And what came next was a splash in the face.
Caleb gasped as Hannah flicked water at him with a laugh that bubbled up spontaneously, her eyes shining with mischief.
The way they should have when she was a child — bright and unburdened.
“Sorry,” she said, not looking sorry at all. “I couldn’t help myself.”
Caleb blinked water from his eyes, momentarily stunned by the sudden playfulness. Then he grinned, slow and dangerous.
“Oh, you’ve done it now,” he warned, his voice dropping to a mock growl.
Hannah’s eyes widened as she realized what was coming. She scrambled to her feet, water splashing everywhere, but she wasn’t quite fast enough. Caleb cupped his hand and sent a wave of icy water arcing toward her, catching her squarely across the middle.
She shrieked, the sound echoing through the trees, followed immediately by laughter... real, unfettered laughter that seemed to surprise even her.
“That’s freezing!” Hannah protested, hopping back with a laugh as she splashed through the shallows, sending ripples skittering across the surface of the stream.