Chapter Twelve – Caleb
The restaurant had been loud, busy, alive with the rhythm he’d known his whole life. But Caleb had moved through it like a man slightly out of step with his own world.
His thoughts had stayed at the cabin.
With her.
She’ll be waiting up, his bear murmured for what had to be the hundredth time.
We don’t know that yet, Caleb replied, though hope pressed hard against his ribs as he turned onto the familiar road leading toward home.
The cabin lights glowed through the branches before he reached the clearing, soft and golden against the dark. Caleb cut the engine and sat in silence as he pushed out his senses to locate his mate.
She hadn’t gone to bed.
I told you she would wait up for us, his bear said smugly.
She could have just fallen asleep in front of the fire, Caleb replied, tempering his excitement.
Then go find out, his bear urged.
Caleb got out of the truck, strode to the door, and opened it slowly.
There she was, curled on his sofa, firelight playing across her features as she dozed.
The embers in the grate cast a gentle glow across the room, highlighting the curve of her cheek and the soft fall of her hair against the cushions.
His bear stirred immediately, a low rumble of delight vibrating through his chest. She waited up for us, his bear whispered.
Or she fell asleep in front of the fire, Caleb said, repeating his earlier warning that they should not get their hopes up.
He closed the door quietly behind him, careful not to wake her. The latch clicked softly, and Hannah stirred, her eyes fluttering open. For a moment, she looked disoriented, blinking in the low light. Then her gaze found his, and a slow smile spread across her face.
“You’re back,” she said, her voice husky with sleep.
Tell her we’ll always come back to her, his bear urged.
“I thought you would be in bed,” Caleb said instead, setting down the small paper bag he’d brought from the restaurant.
Hannah sat up, pushing her hair back from her face. “I didn’t mean to nod off. I just... I wanted to see you before the day ended.”
See, I told you she waited up for us. His bear preened with satisfaction. She missed us.
I know, Caleb replied, trying to keep his face calm even as hope bloomed in his chest.
He moved toward the fire, adding another log, giving his hands something to do besides reaching for her. The flames caught quickly, casting shadows across the room as they grew.
“I brought something,” he said, gesturing to the bag. “From the restaurant. Nothing fancy, just dessert.”
Hannah’s eyes lit up. “Dessert? Now I’m definitely glad I waited up.”
Caleb laughed, the tension in his shoulders easing. “I’ll grab some plates.”
In the kitchen, he took a moment to steady himself, hands braced against the counter as he breathed slowly. In and out. In and out.
But it was difficult to calm himself when his bear was practically bouncing with excitement. What a way to end the day! Now I know she’s going to stay!
Easy, Caleb cautioned. Don’t get ahead of yourself.
You’re the one getting ahead of yourself with all these worries, his bear countered. She’s here. We’re here. That’s what matters.
Caleb couldn’t argue with that logic. He gathered two plates, forks, and, on a whim, two small glasses. The bottle of wine they’d opened at the vineyard sat on the counter where he’d left it earlier. There was easily enough for a couple more glasses.
When he returned to the living room, Hannah had moved to sit on the rug before the fire, the blanket pulled around her shoulders. The sight of her there made his heart stutter.
“What did you bring?” she asked, eyeing the bag with undisguised curiosity.
Caleb set everything down on the coffee table and pulled out two slices of his mother’s blackberry pie, still warm from the oven, the deep purple filling glistening in the firelight.
“My mom’s specialty,” he said, placing a slice on a plate and handing it to her. “Blackberry pie with a hint of cardamom. It’s... well, you’ll see.”
Hannah took the plate, inhaling deeply. “It smells amazing.”
“It goes especially well with this particular vintage of Thornberg wine,” he said as he poured the wine.
“Perfect,” Hannah said, accepting the glass with a smile.
They settled side by side before the fire, the heat washing over them as they ate. Caleb watched from the corner of his eye as Hannah took her first bite, savoring her reaction more than the pie itself.
Her eyes closed briefly, a soft sound of appreciation escaping her. “Oh my goodness,” she murmured. “This is incredible.”
She loves it, his bear said, unnecessarily pleased. Our family’s food. Our mother’s recipe.
I can see that, Caleb replied, taking a bite. The familiar flavors of home filled his mouth... sweet berries, buttery crust, the subtle warmth of spice.
“Your mother is a genius,” Hannah declared, taking another bite. “Seriously. This might be the best pie I’ve ever had.”
Pride swelled in Caleb’s chest, not for himself, but for his family, for the traditions they’d built, for the simple joy their food could bring.
“She’ll be thrilled to hear that,” he said. “Family recipes are sacred in the Thornberg household.”
Hannah nodded, understanding in her eyes. “Food is memory,” she said softly. “It’s one of the truest forms of love I know.”
The simplicity of her statement caught him off guard. It was exactly what his family believed, what they’d built their lives around. The restaurant wasn’t just a business; it was their way of caring for their community, of creating a place where people felt nourished in every sense.
“Yes,” he agreed, his voice low. “That’s exactly it.”
They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, the only sounds being the crackle of the fire and the occasional clink of forks against plates.
Caleb found himself hyper-aware of every slight movement she made—the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the careful way she gathered the last crumbs of crust on her fork, the gentle sigh of contentment as she finished.
When they were done, Hannah set her plate aside and leaned back on her hands, her face tilted toward the fire. The flames cast a golden glow across her skin, making her appear almost luminous in the darkness.
She’s glowing again, his bear observed.
She is, Caleb agreed, unable to tear his gaze away.
“Thank you,” Hannah said, turning to look at him. “Not just for the pie. For today. All of it.”
Caleb swallowed hard, caught in her gaze. “You don’t need to thank me.”
“I know,” she said simply. “But I want to.”
She shifted closer; the blanket slipping slightly from her shoulders. Caleb’s breath caught as she leaned toward him, her eyes never leaving his. There was a question in them, an uncertainty that belied the deliberateness of her movements.
His bear surged forward eagerly. She’s going to kiss us!
I know, Caleb replied, his heart hammering in his chest.
Hannah paused, her face inches from his, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her breath, could see the flecks of gold in her eyes. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, then back to his eyes, the question becoming more evident.
Every instinct in him cried out to close the distance, to claim her mouth with his, to show her exactly how he felt. His bear was practically howling with impatience. What are you waiting for? Kiss her!
But Caleb saw the slight tremble in her lower lip, the hint of exhaustion around her eyes. She’d had a long, emotional day, and he wanted—needed—their first kiss to be something she was absolutely certain about.
With hard-won restraint, Caleb lifted his hand and brushed his thumb across her cheek, then leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead instead.
“It’s getting late,” he said softly, pulling back to look into her eyes. “And it’s been a long day.”
Hannah blinked, confusion and a hint of hurt flashing across her face before understanding dawned. “You’re right,” she said, offering him a small smile. “I am tired.”
What are you doing? his bear demanded, incredulous. She wanted to kiss us!
I want her to be sure, Caleb replied firmly. I want her to have a clear head when we first kiss. When she chooses us.
His bear grumbled but subsided, unable to argue with the logic. After all, their mate deserved nothing but their absolute respect and care.
Hannah tucked the blanket more securely around her shoulders, a slight flush coloring her cheeks. “I should probably get some sleep,” she said, rising to her feet.
Caleb stood as well, gathering their plates. “I’ll clean up. You go ahead.”
She hesitated at the foot of the stairs, looking back at him with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher. “Caleb?”
“Yes?”
“I’m glad I took that wrong turn,” she said quietly. “I’m glad I met you.”
His bear hummed with contentment. See? She’s already choosing us.
“I’m glad too,” Caleb replied, his voice rough with emotion.
Hannah smiled, but sadness tinged her lips. “Goodnight, Caleb.”
“Goodnight, Hannah. Sleep well.”
He watched her go upstairs, each step taking her further from him. Only when she disappeared from view did he allow himself to breathe properly, to feel the full weight of what had just happened—and what hadn’t.
She almost kissed us, and you stopped it, his bear said, still slightly accusatory.
Caleb sighed, gathering the dishes and carrying them to the kitchen. When we kiss her for the first time, I want it to be perfect. I want her to be absolutely certain.
She seemed pretty certain to me, his bear grumbled.
Maybe, Caleb conceded. But she deserves more than a tired, impulsive decision at the end of an emotional day.
His bear considered this, then nodded reluctantly. You’re right. Our mate deserves the best of everything. Including the best first kiss.
Caleb smiled as he rinsed the plates, listening to the soft sounds of Hannah moving around upstairs.
Tomorrow her car would be ready. She would have decisions to make. But tonight, she was here, under his roof, having chosen to wait up for him when she didn’t have to.
And that, Caleb thought as he dried his hands and turned out the kitchen light, was already more than he’d dared hope for.