Chapter 19
Penelope
The car hums softly as we drive, tires crunching over the uneven gravel of the country road.
I press my forehead to the window, staring at the fields stretching out under the low afternoon sun, though I’m not really looking.
My chest feels hollow, a weight that’s been curled tight inside me for years pressing down.
Eleven years since Mom died, and some mornings, grief wakes first. Today, it’s thick, clinging like fog.
I try to focus on the gold sunlight spilling over the fields, the distant hum of cicadas, the wind teasing strands of hair across my cheek, but my mind drifts back to her.
Mom. Her laugh that could fill a room, the quiet strength in her hands, the way she made even the simplest moments feel sacred.
I want to tell her about the store, to show her this next step, to hear her voice telling me it’s going to be okay.
But she’s gone. Buried far away. And I want her so badly it hurts.
Cas glances at me, his eyes calm but sharp, seeing me too clearly. The car slows, gravel crunching beneath the tires until we roll to a stop at the side of the road. His hand brushes my shoulder, light but grounding. I force a smile, the reflex I learned long ago with Mark. “I’m fine,” I whisper.
But Cas isn’t Mark. He unbuckles his seatbelt and leans over. His hands cup my face, warm and steady. “Sunset, talk to me.”
The world shrinks until it’s just him, me, the car, and the hum of the tires. My smile crumbles. Tears spill down my cheeks before I can stop them. “I… I miss my mom,” I choke out.
He pulls me closer, and I let my body shudder against him. His fingers thread through my hair, and his other hand traces slow, soothing circles down my back. I sob harder than I have in years, letting the grief I buried for Mark finally rise.
“I just…” My voice shakes. “I woke up this morning so excited about the store. I wanted to tell her so badly…” My breath catches. “But I can’t.”
“I’m so sorry, baby,” Cas murmurs, low and unwavering. “You must miss her so much. I can’t even imagine not being able to talk to my mama. I wish I could bring her here for you.”
I hiccup, pressing my face harder against his chest. My hand brushes over the wet streaks running down his shirt. “Oh… Cas, I’m so sorry. I ruined your shirt.”
He glances down, shrugs, and presses a gentle kiss to my temple. “It doesn’t matter. Your heart needed to be free. That’s more important than a shirt.”
I close my eyes, letting his words sink in.
His hands stay steady in my hair, tracing slow circles down my back, holding me like I’m the most fragile thing in the world.
And in that moment, I realize something I’ve never felt before.
No one has ever let me be this raw. Mark pushed me to hide, to smile, to be perfect.
People usually turn away from pain, or they try to fix it with clichés.
But Cas doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t tell me to stop. He doesn’t make my grief about him.
He just accepts me. All of me. The strong parts, the messy parts, the parts that ache and tear me apart. He makes room for it. And for the first time in years, my chest loosens. Someone finally sees all of me and still wants me.
I pull back just enough to look at him, tears streaking my cheeks. My voice is small and trembling. “I wish I could visit her grave so badly today.”
Cas pulls me closer again, his chest warm against mine. “I know, Sunset. I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, voice low and steady. “I wish you could. I know how much you miss her.”
I let my forehead rest against his shoulder, letting the weight of my grief settle into his arms. “I just… I wanted her to see this next step,” I whisper.
“And she does,” Cas says softly, pressing a gentle kiss to my hair. “She’s proud of you. And I’m proud of you too.”
◆◆◆
The town spreads out before us as we drive in, sunlight dipping lower, spilling gold across brick buildings.
My chest feels lighter, grief softened, though not gone.
Anticipation flutters in my stomach. We pull up in front of the store Cas told me about.
The big windows catch the fading light, scattering it across the sidewalk.
The bell jingles as Cas pushes the door open, and the scent of fresh paint and old wood greets me.
I step inside, letting my fingers brush the smooth counter, the edge of the windowsill, imagining a tripod capturing someone’s smile, the soft click of a shutter echoing in the quiet space.
The store is smaller than I imagined, but perfect.
Warm light, open space, everything ready to be filled with my creativity.
“This is it,” Cas says, brushing his fingers against mine as he walks beside me. “I can see you here, doing your magic.”
I spin slowly, heart hammering. “I can imagine the lights here, the backgrounds there… Oh, a corner just for baby shoots.” My hands sketch the layout in the air, excitement building. “I love it. I can see it.”
“You really think I could do this?” My voice catches, fear edging the thrill. “I’m scared of messing it up.”
Cas tilts his head, eyes steady. “Sunset, I think there’s nothing you can’t do.”
Heat blooms in my chest. I squeeze his hand, leaning close. “How about pizza to celebrate?” I tease, needing something light after the storm in the car.
He laughs, low and warm, and my stomach flips. “Pizza sounds perfect.”
I scoot closer, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. He chuckles. “You’re always making me happy, cowboy,” I murmur.
“I’ll spend my life doing that if it means this smile,” he says, eyes warm. I squeeze his hand again, letting my heart swell.
We step back into the car, sunlight fading, leaving a soft glow on the dashboard.
I press my face to the window, watching the street pass by, imagining the studio alive with people, laughter, and light.
Cas reaches over, brushing his fingers against mine, his thumb stroking gently.
My heart hammers, and I can’t help but smile.
“Pizza first, then hot tub and wine?” he teases, glancing at me.
“Deal,” I whisper, laughing softly, leaning into him. Everything, the grief, the fear, the excitement, the love, mingles together, and for the first time in years, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
◆◆◆
Three days later, I sign the lease. My name scrawled across the papers feels like a key turning in a lock, a door swinging open to a life I’ve only dared to imagine.
The Hawthornes are over the moon for me, Lily especially.
She’s been buzzing all day, refusing to tell me what she’s planning, but the secret smile on her lips gives her away.
By evening, the house hums with voices and clinking glasses.
Warm light spills from the kitchen, carrying the smell of garlic bread, roasted tomatoes, and something sweet baking in the oven.
My heart stutters as I pause on the stairs, taking in the scene below.
Everyone’s here, faces I’ve come to think of as family, laughter bouncing off the walls like music.
Cas is in the kitchen, leaning close to his mother, whispering something that makes her smile. They both glance up when I appear, and the air shifts. His eyes catch mine, and the little curve of his lips makes my stomach flutter.
“Hey, Sunset.” His smile is warm as he crosses the kitchen toward me. He pulls me in without hesitation, his arm solid around my waist. The kiss he gives me, in front of everyone, is gentle and sweet, and it makes my cheeks burn.
“Hi, cowboy,” I whisper back, my breath catching as his dimples appear.
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his thumb brushing the edge of my jaw. “Before dinner,” he murmurs, voice low just for me, “come take a walk with me. I’ve got something I want to show you.”
The look in his eyes, excitement threaded with a hint of nerves, makes my pulse race. I nod.
We slip out the back door into the October air.
It’s crisp and smells of pine and damp earth, the sun bleeding red and orange across the horizon.
The lake glimmers in the distance, mirroring the sky.
A breeze pulls at my hair as we walk, leaves crunching under our boots, his hand steady around mine.
The path winds up a small hill, and my heart hammers with every step. Then, tucked under a tall pine and surrounded by wildflowers, a yellow bench appears. My breath catches. Yellow. Mom’s favorite color.
Cas’s hand tightens around mine, and his voice is soft. “I made it for you, I hope you like it.”
I step closer, fingertips grazing the smooth wood. A small brass plaque gleams in the fading light: In loving memory of Emily
Lawson. Tears sting my eyes. I run my hand over the wood, imagining Mom beside me, the warmth, the love, the quiet presence I’ve longed for.
“You did this for me?” I whisper, turning to him.
He nods, voice low. “I thought you deserved a place where you could talk to her and just be with her.”
I take his face between my hands and pull him down to me, kissing him slow and deep, letting all the gratitude, love, and awe pour into it. When I pull back, my forehead rests against his, tears dampening my skin.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“I love you,” he murmurs, and my heart leaps. I want to say it back, but fear still coils tight in my chest. Instead, I pull him closer, pressing my lips to his again, trying to speak all the words my mouth can’t yet form.
The yellow bench waits behind us, glowing in the twilight, a place where grief and love can exist side by side. And for the first time, I finally feel allowed to hold both.