by Kacey Linden
Once they were inside, Cale cranked up the heat and pulled away from the curb.
“I can’t tell you what to do, Willow,” he said, “though I wish I could. I would tell you to stay here, and make a home in Echo Creek, but that’s because it’s what I want. I don’t want you to leave. I want you to choose hope, and happiness. But I only know the tiniest part of what your life has been like. All I can tell you is that a decision based solely on fear is almost guaranteed to be the wrong one.”
Willow groaned and let her head fall back onto the seat. “That doesn’t help, you know.”
“I know,” he said, reaching over to grasp her hand again. “And I’m sorry.”
She lifted her head, remembering something else she needed to ask him. “Cale, what’s going on with my car? You haven’t mentioned it in a while. Has Marty found parts for it yet?”
“He’s located most of them,” Cale told her, dropping her hand to navigate a turn. “And he’s promised me a rundown of the total price by this weekend. Uncle Pete has also come up with a few promising used vehicles, if you’re interested in going that route.”
She turned to look at him suspiciously. “If I hadn’t asked, when were you going to tell me?”
He fell silent.
“Never?”
“Eventually,” he hedged. “You hadn’t been working for long enough yet to afford either one, so I didn’t think it would hurt to wait.”
“Is that the only reason?”
He glanced over at her briefly and shifted in his seat. “No.”
“Tell me the truth. Is the price going to be higher than you thought?”
“No. Might even be less.”
“Then why?”
“I didn’t want to remind you that you were planning to leave,” he said briefly, keeping his eyes on the road. “I thought if I didn’t bring it up, you might eventually realize that you didn’t have to keep running.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she told him, folding her arms. “That was my choice to make.”
“You’re right,” he admitted. “And I’m sorry.”
She considered that, not feeling angry, exactly, just perplexed. “Why did you do it?”
“Because up until about a week ago, I was afraid that you might just disappear. That you would get tired of waiting and we would never know where you’d gone or what had happened to you.”
Oh. She had considered bolting. Several times. But not for a while.
“Are you still afraid?”
“I am,” he said. “But not of the same things. I’d like to think that you care enough about a few of us here that you wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”
“I won’t,” she promised. “So what scares you so much?”
“Having to watch you drive away,” he told her. “The town—and my life—would feel empty now without you in them.”
She sighed and gazed out the window at the snowflakes drifting on the wind. “I told you it was a bad idea for us to be together.”
“No. I don’t agree.”
“And if it rips your heart out when I leave? What then?” she demanded.
“Then you’ll have to trust me,” he said soberly. “I knew that was a possibility from the beginning. But I would rather have a few weeks with you than wonder forever what would have happened if I’d been willing to take a chance.”
She’d felt the same way at first. But the regrets were beginning to mount, as she realized she’d never genuinely cared for anyone before. Never had anyone to lose. The thought of leaving now made her want to curl into a ball and sob.
“I’m scared, Cale.” Almost as soon as she said it, Willow felt the tears spring up in her eyes. “So scared that I’ll get this wrong. Rory said I should give love a chance, but I just know I’m going to mess it up and I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”
Cale stopped the truck in front of Marcia’s house and turned to look at Willow, intending to say whatever was needed to convince her not to break up with him. But when he saw her tears… They hit him like a punch to the gut. She was hurting, and he had no right to be thinking about himself.
He reached over, took her hand and pulled her close, tucking her against his shoulder and letting her tears soak into his jacket. “You’re not alone any more. You don’t have to figure any of this out by yourself. We’re here. Just let us in.”
“I don’t know how.” Her plea was stark and unmistakably honest. “But I know I want to try.”
She lifted her head and smiled tremulously, looking so beautiful and sad that he cupped her chin and kissed her. It was only their second kiss, so he kept it gentle and sweet, waiting for her to either pull away or deepen the kiss. When she shifted closer and touched his hair with tentative fingers, it felt like a miracle. Sliding his hand behind her head, he leaned in for more and must have let some hint of the intensity of his feelings slip through because Willow pulled back, breathing hard, her eyes uncertain.
He bent forward and kissed her forehead, choosing to break the tension. “You know, I think you should consider getting yourself a hat. Your ears are freezing.”
“But I’m never outside for longer than five minutes,” she replied defensively. To his delight, she actually seemed a little disappointed that he wasn’t kissing her again. “A hat would be a total waste of money. And when I wear one, I can never take it off, because then my hair looks like a mangled mushroom.”
“I bet it looks exactly like your hair looks now,” Cale said confidently, getting out of the truck and meeting her on the walk, which was almost completely covered with a thin layer of snow. “Perfect.”
“You’re delusional,” Willow proclaimed, “but since that’s working in my favor I’m choosing to ignore it.”
He laughed, and pulled her tightly to his side as they strolled up to the front door. It was only with reluctance that he let her go when Marcia opened the door, and with even more reluctance that he waved goodnight and returned to his truck, feeling colder now that Willow was no longer there to fill the space and the silence.
He missed her already.
Cale made his way home, feeling all the warmth and hope of their budding relationship, while at the same time feeling incredibly helpless. Willow was beginning to trust him. She was letting him into her life and her heart one tentative step at a time, a precious gift that he was determined to protect. But he was still hiding a secret that could destroy her fragile, newfound hope.
She’d already caught him hiding something from her. If she ever found out that he’d faked her car problems to keep her from driving away into a bitterly-cold night with only a single gallon of gas, she would never forgive him. Never trust him again.
But what could he do? He had enough information to go after Elliot Renner, but not without her willing testimony, which she would never give. She was too worried that Cale might find out about the stolen car—which he could only keep off her record using her testimony against Elliot.
What if he simply went to her and told her that he already knew? That he’d always known?
No. The risk was too great. She still might simply disappear from his life and he couldn’t bear the thought. He was falling for her, harder every day.
He was too afraid to admit the truth, and he knew Willow felt the same. Something would have to break eventually, but how could he risk having to give her up? Was there any way for them both to reveal their secrets without losing everything they’d built between them?
Unable to banish his anxious thoughts, Cale called his detective friend in Seattle that night, and asked him to look into a few more aspects of Willow’s case. They’d gone over Elliot’s phone together when Cale had made his trip to the city and discovered a list of contacts, including at least one cop who had long been suspected of unsavory dealings with the drug trade. Now Cale was hoping for help with finding out the identity of Elliot’s dealer.
Afterwards he sat in his kitchen and tried not to imagine Willow across the table, leaning
on her elbow as she shared the minute details of her day—details that would only be important to the one who loved her most. He tried not to picture her in his living room, sitting crosslegged on the carpet in front of the fire with Duke’s head in her lap and Bear lying beside her. And he resolutely shut his mind to the image of her head on the pillow next to his, her hair tousled with sleep and her hazel eyes smiling a good morning.
For three years, he’d only been able to picture Marissa in his house and in his life. How had Willow moved in and taken over his mind and heart so completely?
She was nothing like Marissa. In many ways, she was his former fiancée’s opposite. Short, where Marissa had been tall. Slender rather than athletic. Blonde instead of brunette and shy instead of bold. Willow’s strength was quieter and harder to see, but she was just as strong, in all the ways that mattered.
And yet, even though her courage continued to astound him, Willow needed him too, which Marissa never had. In fact, it had irritated her whenever he did little things to help her or make her day easier, or simply to remind her how he felt. She’d loved him, in a way, but had never wanted to lean on him.
Willow, by contrast, took nothing for granted. Even the tiniest gestures still surprised her—a touch on the hand, a kiss on the cheek, or a sympathetic hug. He would have given the world just to make her happy, but she saw the simplest expressions of his care as a miracle.
The truth was, over the past few weeks, he’d come to realize that he needed her too. Needed her raw courage, her straightforward approach to life, and her undimmed joy in the simple beauties of the season. In spite of all the obstacles between them, he was just going to have to find a way to convince her to stay in Echo Creek. No matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t sure he could still imagine his life there without her.
The next morning, Cale awakened to four inches of fresh snow, and a forecast for more throughout the day. It was his day off, so he grabbed a shovel and spent the first hour of the morning clearing his driveway, the sidewalk in front of his house, his neighbor’s driveway, and the walkway from his neighbor’s house to his mailbox. Grant Farrell was eighty-five, almost totally deaf, and completely convinced he could still shovel his own snow. Cale usually left him the sidewalk—Grant really was spry for his age—but couldn’t see making him do the driveway as well.
Afterwards, he threw the shovel in the back of his truck and drove cautiously over to Marcia’s, where he set to work on the front walk. Before he’d cleared more than a few feet, the door creaked open and Willow’s golden head peeked out.
“Cale Matthews, what are you doing?”
“It’s an arcane ritual for hastening the arrival of spring,” he deadpanned. “What are you doing?”
“I am perfectly capable of shoveling a little snow,” she scolded.
“Then prove it.” He grinned. “If you dare.”
She muttered something under her breath and slammed the door.
Five minutes later she emerged from the garage, snow shovel and gardening gloves in hand.
“Wait, you still don’t have a hat,” Cale protested. “Or warm gloves, and it’s cold out here. Go back inside and I can take care of this.”
“Or, I can help and it will go twice as fast,” Willow retorted. “I’ll be fine. The work will warm me up.” As if to prove it, she picked up an entire shovelful of snow and flung it at him.
Cale dropped his own shovel, grabbed a handful of snow, and threw it, so fast that all she could do was stare, openmouthed, as it hit her in the chest.
“You’re dead,” she growled, dropping her own shovel and pulling on the gloves. It didn’t take more than a few snowballs for Cale to realize that she could throw. She hit him in the arm, the shoulder, and then the back as he ran for cover behind the porch. Laughing, she chased him down and took a snowball to the leg before hurling a stinging shot to his ear.
“That’ll teach you to mess with…”
Cale was aiming for her chest, but the shot went high and hit her directly in the forehead.
He heard a yell of outrage, but he was already running, laughing so hard he almost couldn’t breathe. She caught him before he could escape around the house, tackling him into the snow and shoving a giant handful of it down the back of his collar.
Cale yelped, rolled over and sat up, to see Willow standing over him, the light of victory in her eyes and an enormous ball of snow in her hands… until he tripped her and she fell backwards, causing the snow to fly up into the air and fall directly onto her face.
She lay there for a moment, shaking, her expression hidden behind the remains of her giant snowball.
A little worried, Cale crawled to her side and cleared the snow from her face—only to discover that she was laughing.
“I can’t believe you did that,” she protested, when she could finally breathe again.
“Neither can I,” he said, grinning ruefully as he brushed the last of the snow from her cheeks and pulled her to her feet. “But I think I should claim that it was all part of a devious plot.” When she looked up inquisitively, eyes lively with laughter and curiosity, he removed his beanie and placed it neatly over her already wet hair. “To convince you that you really do need a hat.”
She rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the ribs. “You don’t quit, do you?”
“Never,” he said, dropping a kiss on top of her head.
They finished the shoveling without further incident, after which Cale refused to come in for coffee. “I’ve got a few more places to shovel, but I’ll be back this afternoon to make sure everything is ready.”
“I wouldn’t worry,” Willow told him confidently. “Marcia has been baking nonstop since yesterday and already has the cider mulling.”
“The tour starts at seven and goes until eleven,” he reminded her. “That could be a lot of cookies. I’m sure you’ll want to stay for a bit to meet some of the guests, but when would you like to leave?”
“Leave?” she echoed. “Oh. Right.”
“We are still on for our date?” he asked, grinning.
“Yes.” She pulled off his hat and returned it to him. “I’m actually looking forward to it, mostly.”
“Mostly?” he repeated, in his most offended voice.
“I’ve only been on one date before, remember? And it was memorable for all the wrong reasons. I don’t actually know how to do this.”
“Dating isn’t something anyone really knows how to do,” he reassured her. “Just relax and have fun and it’ll be the best date you’ve ever had.”
“That’s not exactly a very high bar,” she pointed out.
“Which is the only reason I’m not worried,” he joked. “It won’t be all that hard to live up to your expectations.”
“Cale, if you live up to those expectations, I’m dumping you,” Willow asserted, turning around and retreating towards the house.
He watched her go, smitten anew when she turned to wave, her eyes filled with laughter and a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. He had never looked forward to a date more in his life, and he promised himself that this would be far better than Willow’s past experience. Whoever she’d dated first didn’t matter. It was who she dated last that counted, and Cale’s heart had begun to insist that he wanted to be the only man she ever dated for the rest of her life.
Chapter 11
Willow could remember thinking that Christmas was magical. It transformed ordinary places into a shining wonderland of lights and presents and music and put the whole world in a mood to give and forgive. The whole world except her little corner of it.
But this Christmas, her corner of the world was part of the magic. The snow had fallen gently all day, leaving a perfect blanket over everything outside, while the inside of the house smelled of cider and ginger cookies. Lights twinkled, perfectly wrapped presents beckoned, and the fire crackled with a friendly heat that filled the house and enfolded Willow in a haze of happiness.
By six, the trays of cookies were set out and
all of the mugs were arranged on the breakfast bar. Mrs. Dillon was pacing around muttering about forgetting something, but there was no way she’d forgotten anything.
At six thirty, Willow dashed upstairs to get ready. She looked through the clothes Mrs. Dillon had given her and picked out the most stylish pair of jeans, along with a hunter green sweater. Her hair… She’d never really spent much time on her hair, and it had never bothered her before. But now, she wished she could manage one of those fancy up-dos she’d seen in magazines.
In the end, she made a loose braid that fell forward over her shoulder and tied the end with a simple black band. She had no makeup or jewelry, so she would have to be enough as she was.
Cale seemed to think she was enough. Staring at her slender face in the mirror, Willow tried to see herself through his eyes. He claimed she was beautiful. Brave. Funny. Until recently, all she had ever been able to see in her own reflection was fear and uncertainty. Just lately, though, she had imagined there was also a tiny glimmer of hope. Maybe even the beginnings of happiness.
Was it enough to stake her future on?
She returned downstairs, just as Cale came through the front door. When he caught sight of her, the admiration in his eyes made her insides go warm and melty and shot a shiver up her spine.
“You look perfect,” he announced and kissed her on the nose.
When she blinked, he kissed her lips and laughed at her expression.
“But I’m feeling like I ought to go home and change.” He removed his coat to reveal a forest green henley, almost the exact shade of her sweater.
As he stood in the hall, smiling down at her, Willow was struck almost speechless by the realization that he was there for her. She had a date with the tall, gorgeous, kind, funny, and caring man in front of her.
Tears of disbelief started in her eyes, and she tried to turn away, but it was too late. Cale had seen them and instantly reached out in concern.
“Willow, what’s wrong?”