Page 27 of Rescued In The Storm

The realization sits heavy in my chest, undeniable now that I've faced it. I can't fix this with careful planning or strategic thinking. I can't approach Sarah Miller like a problem to solve or a trail to navigate.

This is going to require something I'm far less practiced at. Vulnerability.

* * *

Morning comes too quickly after a mostly sleepless night. I drag myself out to the lodge's garden at dawn, a space I usually avoid because it's more Rowan's domain than mine. But the kitchen gardens behind the lodge are the only place I know to find what I need.

My knowledge of flowers is limited at best. I can identify most of the wildflowers on our trails, but only because guests sometimes ask about them. The careful cultivation of blooms has always been Rowan's specialty. Still, even I can recognize the vibrant lavender and deep purple blooms that Sarah always keeps in window boxes outside her bakery.

I kneel beside a patch of what I hope are the right flowers, pulling gardening shears from my back pocket. A peace offering feels juvenile, but showing up empty-handed feels worse.

"Interesting," a voice says from behind me. "I don't recall adding 'flower thief' to your job description."

I turn to find Declan standing over me, arms folded across his chef's jacket, an amused glint in his eyes despite the early hour.

"I'm not stealing," I mutter, turning back to the flowers. "Just borrowing."

"From Rowan's meticulously planned garden? Bold move." He crouches beside me, eyeing my targets. "Those aren't even in bloom yet. You want the ones on the south side."

I sigh, setting down the shears. "How did you even know I was out here?"

"Mom mentioned you might be making some questionable decisions this morning." He grins, not bothering to hide his enjoyment of my discomfort. "Something about Sarah Miller."

Of course she did. In the Callahan family, privacy is a theoretical concept at best.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Clearly." Declan gestures to the gardening shears. "That's why you're committing horticultural crimes at six in the morning."

Before I can respond, another voice joins in. "So it's true." Rowan strolls toward us, work gloves already on his hands despite the early hour. "Connor's finally figured out what the rest of us have known for years."

I stand, brushing dirt from my knees. "You two ganging up on me now?"

"Absolutely," Declan says cheerfully. "It's not often we get to see the great Connor Callahan, master of mountains and emotional repression, reduced to groveling."

"I saw Liam heading to the office at dawn," Rowan adds quietly. "Apparently Lauren's been there all night working on some budget crisis. He looked about as miserable as you do."

"Two Callahan men tripping over themselves with women in one week," Declan shakes his head in mock dismay. "Mom must be beside herself."

"Leave Liam out of this," I say, feeling a strange sense of kinship with my oldest brother for once. "Whatever's going on with him and Lauren is their business."

"Just like whatever's going on with you and Sarah is yours?" Declan counters. "Funny how nobody told the town gossips that."

Rowan, ever the quieter of my brothers, simply kneels to examine the flowers I was about to butcher. "These won't work," he says matter-of-factly. "Come on."

Without waiting for a response, he starts walking toward the greenhouse at the far end of the garden. After a moment's hesitation, I follow, Declan falling into step beside me.

"You know you're being an idiot, right?" Declan says, his tone somewhere between teasing and serious. "Two days of radio silence after kissing her? Even I know that's not how it works."

"I needed time to think."

"Because that's exactly what you need—more time to overthink instead of actually feeling something," he retorts with an eye roll.

"It's not that simple."

"It never is," Declan agrees, his tone softening slightly. "But it's worth it."

Inside the greenhouse, Rowan is already selecting flowers with careful precision. Not just the purple blooms I was aiming for, but others I can't name, creating a small, thoughtful arrangement.

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