Page 51 of Love Story

I’m so tired.

THE LIVING ROOMwas small but warm, a haven of coziness that immediately put me at ease.The kind of place where every corner told a story.The sofa I sat on was deep and comfortable, and in front of us, the fireplace crackled, casting a soft, flickering glow over the room.On the mantel, framed photos showed the generations of Sam’s family—smiling faces in front of the farmhouse, kids climbing trees, and even an old black-and-white picture of Samuel P.Caldwell himself, standing proud beside a towering maple.

Syrup seemed to touch everything here, not just in scent but in spirit.A carved plaque on the wall readMaple Life, and a little ceramic syrup bottle sat on the coffee table, its paint chipped, as though it had seen years of use and love.The faint sweetness of maple mingled with the earthy aroma of burning wood, wrapping around me like a blanket.

I wasn’t shaky in here.

The city wasn’t intruding.

After using the bathroom to fix whatever we could, Sam made me sit on the sofa, the heat from the fire crackling in the hearth filling the room, then he sat beside me after making us hot drinks, glancing toward me occasionally as if to check that I was still okay, but he didn’t push.That was one of the things I liked about him—he didn’t fill the silence unless it needed filling.

My mug of cocoa was still too hot to drink, so I held it between my hands, feeling the heat seep into my fingers.It was grounding, a small connection to the present as my mind swirled with everything I couldn’t express.The past I was trying to escape had followed me here, settling over me like a shadow I couldn’t shake.

“I love it here,” I said quietly, more to myself than Sam.“It’s so quiet, and I can think.”

“I guess it’s not like the city,” he replied, his voice light but probing.

“Nothing like the city,” I admitted, sighing heavily.

“You miss it?”

“No.Yes… no.”My gaze fixed on the swirl of steam rising from my mug.“Everything I tried to hold on to in the city just… slipped away.My boyfriend left me when I didn’t have a job, my best friend Brad… well, he…” I trailed off, the words tangling in my throat.“Fuck, it’s a long story, and now I don’t even have my apartment, and…”

“And you burned out,” Sam finished for me, his tone understanding.

I didn’t correct him.How could I?It was what I let everyone believe—even Aunt Harriet.Anyway, he wasn’t wrong, not entirely.Ihadburned out—flown too high, crashed to the ground in pieces.But that wasn’t the whole truth.He couldn’t know the weight of what had driven me to this place, the mess I’d left behind, and how every decision I’d made seemed to ripple outward, ruining more lives than my own.Sam couldn’t know that, and he didn’t need to.Not yet.

“Yeah,” I said instead, my voice strained.

Sam leaned back in his chair, studying me.“You’re happy in Caldwell Crossing, then stay.Simple.”

I let out a hollow laugh, shaking my head.“It’s notthatsimple.”

“It could be,” he said, his words so matter-of-fact they hung between us.He made it sound easy—too easy.

I wanted to believe that staying was as simple as he made it sound.But I knew better.I knew the city wasn’t done with me yet, so I changed the subject.

“You know,” I murmured, my voice low and teasing, “your mom was staring out the window when we came in.”

Sam groaned, covering his face with one hand.“I bet she’s already messaging Harriet about us.”

I chuckled, my breath brushing against his neck.“Let her.Whatever plan they cooked up seems to be working.”

Sam pulled back, just enough to meet my gaze.His sapphire eyes softened as he looked at me.“I’m glad it did,” he said, his hand cupping my cheek, the warmth of his touch grounding me.“Kissing you is addictive.”

My smile widened, and I leaned in, brushing my lips over his.“Good,” I murmured against his mouth.“I want you addicted.”

The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, as if we had all the time in the world.Everything else—his farm, my worries, the endless noise of my mind—faded away.There was only Sam, his solid warmth, the way his lips moved against mine.

But then he yawned, breaking the moment with a groan.He pulled back reluctantly, his thumb brushing along my jaw in a way that made me shiver.“I’d love to take you upstairs and show you how much I want you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “but I’m not sure I can make it without falling over.”

I smirked, poking his firm stomach.“Eat first.Then sleep.I’ll even make it easy for you.”

I slid off the sofa and headed to the kitchen, rummaging through his fridge and pantry.It wasn’t fancy, but I pulled together some sandwiches and chips, brought everything back to the couch, and we ate together, snuggled close, the fire casting a warm glow over us.

As he leaned into me more and more, I could feel his exhaustion.His body relaxed against mine, his breathing slowing.When we finished eating, his head rested heavily on my shoulder, his eyelids fluttering shut.

“Sam,” I whispered, shaking him a little.“You need to go to bed.”

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