You too. See you tomorrow, partner.
Partner. Such a simple word to make my chest tight with want and fear in equal measure.
I turned off the lights and headed for bed, but sleep felt impossible. My mind kept replaying moments from the day. Fraser’s hand on my elbow when his leg cramped, the way he’d seamlessly deflected Eleanor’s and Brianna’s matchmaking, how natural it felt to work beside him.
Seven years of careful solitude, and this man was undoing me one patient smile at a time.
The really terrifying part? I was starting to think Iwantedto be undone.
10
FRASER
The weather alert on my phone woke me from my afternoon nap, its shrill tone cutting through the darkness. I fumbled for the device, squinting at the screen through sleep-blurred eyes.
SEVERE WEATHER WARNING:High winds and heavy rain expected. Power outages likely. Residents advised to secure property and prepare for extended outages.
Outside, the wind was already picking up, rattling the windows in their frames. I lay back on my couch, listening to the storm build. After thirty years of reading weather patterns for fire behavior, I could tell this would be a big one.
The barometric pressure had been dropping all day. Even if I hadn’t had a small weather station in my backyard, I would’ve known since my leg had been screaming about it.
By the time darkness fell, the full force of the autumn storm had hit Forestville. Rain lashed against the windows in sheets, and the old oak in my backyard groaned ominously with each gust. The power flickered twice during dinner, a warning ofthings to come. I had a backup generator I could use if needed, but I really hoped I wouldn’t.
I checked my phone, debating whether to text Calloway. It was early still—barely seven—but something nagged at me. Maybe it was the way he’d mentioned once that storms made him anxious, or maybe it was that I’d gotten used to checking in with him. We’d met up for coffee a few times since the Fall Festival two weeks ago, and I felt like his walls were slowly coming down. We texted now on most days, simple messages about the weather, a book we’d read, or a beautiful line of poetry.
I had no reason not to reach out to him under the circumstances, so I typed out a quick message.
Storm’s getting nasty. You doing okay over there?
He didn’t respond.
The power went out around nine, taking with it the comforting hum of modern life. I had camping lanterns and plenty of experience with extended outages from my firefighting days, so that would do for now. If the outage lasted until midnight, I’d start the generator. It was noisy as all get out, so I didn’t like using it.
But as the evening wore on with no response from Calloway, that nagging feeling that something was wrong with him grew stronger. By ten, I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I needed to check on him. Driving in this weather was insanity, but I couldn’t shake my worry.
The storm had intensified, turning the short drive to Calloway’s house into a fierce battle against wind and rain. My truck could take it, but the view through my front windshield was nothing but a wall of gray. What if I accidentally hit something or, worse, someone?
I breathed out with relief when I made it to his driveway. His car was parked there, so he had to be home. Why wasn’t he responding?
My leg protested every step of the walk up to his front door, the cane nearly useless on the slick sidewalks. I had to grab the garden fence twice to prevent myself from slipping.
His house looked dark and somehow smaller in the storm, hunched against the weather like it was trying to protect itself. No lights, but the power was out all over town. What worried me more was the absolute stillness behind those windows. Nothing moved.
I knocked, then knocked harder when the wind swallowed the sound. “Calloway? It’s Fraser. Just checking on you.”
Nothing.
I knocked again, harder this time, fighting the urge to simply break the door down. “Calloway, I’m getting worried. Can you let me know you’re okay?”
All I could hear was the storm that raged around me. Okay, time for stronger measures. I pushed against the door again, this time putting my whole shoulder and weight into it, and felt the old lock give way. I’d apologize later for breaking in and pay to fix the door. Right now, I needed to find him.
The house was cold and dark, stormlight casting everything in shades of gray. I found him in the living room, curled into the corner of the couch with a blanket pulled up to his chin. His whole body was shaking, eyes wide and unfocused in the dim light. Oh fuck.
“Hey,” I said softly, not wanting to startle him further. “It’s me. It’s Fraser.”
His eyes found mine, and I saw naked terror there. Not of me, but of something deeper, older. The storm, the dark, some resurfaced trauma I wasn’t aware of.
I moved slowly, telegraphing my intentions as I crossed the room. “I’m going to sit down, okay? Right here next to you. You’re safe. The storm will pass.”