Chapter 5
1399 Words
Grace hadn’t seen Kaleb for days.
After their strange, unsettling midnight encounter, he had vanished from her world as though the Valley itself had swallowed him whole. He didn’t appear in the dining room at breakfast, didn’t linger in the hallway. Once, on her way to school, she glimpsed the silhouette of his plane carving through the frosted sky, its wings flashing briefly in the sun before shrinking into a speck and then nothing at all.
At night, when the inn was still and the wind pressed against the windows, she sometimes heard the faint creak of bedsprings above her. Kaleb’s bed. That sound was the only proof he hadn’t disappeared entirely. And though part of her wished she could erase even that reminder, the truth was harsher—his absence gnawed at her in a way that unsettled her more than his presence ever had.
Every whisper of him reminded her that she was weak. Broken. That Alex’s ghost clung to her skin like frost that refused to thaw. Kaleb’s existence—his nearness—was proof that her fractured pieces didn’t only belong to her. They spilled over, cut into others, offended them. Hurt them.
She told herself she needed to move on. From Alex. From Chicago. From the girl she had been before everything fell apart. She told herself she needed to behave like a normal human being.
And still, when Lucia Alvarez slid into the seat beside her in the staff room and invited her to the Blue Moose—the Valley’s only tavern—Grace forced a smile and said yes.
The week crept by, heavy with anticipation.
Each day she taught her classes, pretended at ease, then returned to The Spruce to collapse into silence. Each night she turned over the thought of Friday in her mind until the weight of it pressed on her chest like a stone. The Moose would be crowded, unpredictable. And unlike Natasha’s dining room, there would be no gentle rules of civility holding people in check.
By Friday evening, Grace’s nerves thrummed so tightly she felt she might splinter apart. She showered, dressed in casual clothes, and perched at the edge of her bed, rehearsing excuses that would let her escape. A stomach bug? Overused. A family emergency? She had no family here. A work crisis? Everyone would know it was a lie.
Time slipped through her fingers like snow. Her excuses crumbled to dust. And when the knock of footsteps passed her door, she startled up and strode into the hallway with more force than she meant to—colliding nearly headlong with Harlan Bennett.
The big doctor steadied her with one broad hand, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Easy there. Is the place on fire?”
Grace flushed. “No. I was just rushing.”
He tilted his head, recovering his composure with that Southern charm he wielded like a shield. “Couldn’t wait to see me?”
“Absolutely,” she answered, and for once the smile that curved her lips felt real. Harlan was easy. Safe. A man who flirted with broad strokes and never expected her to give him more than banter in return.
When he offered his arm, she let him escort her down the narrow stairway, their laughter mingling in the warm lamplight. Natasha’s frown as they passed only deepened Grace’s amusement.
But the laughter faded the moment she crossed into the Blue Moose.
The tavern was a riot of mismatched furniture, rough laughter, and the tang of beer thick in the air. Everything about it spoke of survival, of a place cobbled together not for beauty but for endurance. The crowd was already swelling, locals filling every corner, their voices rising like a tide.
Grace’s pulse spiked. Automatically, her eyes swept the shadows for a face she dreaded and half-hoped to see. Not Alex. Never Alex. But the habit was ingrained, and it burned her nerves raw.
Instead, she spotted Kaleb.
He was at the bar, shoulders squared, the rough line of his jaw shadowed by his beard. He turned as though he had sensed her gaze—those storm-dark eyes landing on her, stripping her bare.
Her breath caught. She looked away too fast, heat rushing up her throat.
And then he was at her elbow.
“Thought you were too good for the Moose,” Kaleb said. His voice was quiet, but it cut through the din like a blade.
Grace stiffened. “When did I ever say that?”
Their eyes locked, fire against ice. He didn’t smile. Didn’t soften. He simply watched her, his scrutiny so sharp her skin prickled with awareness.
She forced herself to shrug, pretending carelessness. “They’re not my favorite,” she admitted when he pressed about crowds.
His frown deepened, and something unspoken hovered on his lips—something that might have unraveled her—but before he could speak, another presence thundered in.
“Kaleb Kinoy, socializing?”
A man shouldered into her space, broad as a wall, eyes glinting with mischief. Isaac. Kaleb’s cousin, by the resemblance. Where Kaleb carried his silence like armor, Isaac wore his charm like a weapon.
“Who’s this?” Isaac demanded, gaze sweeping Grace from head to toe as though she were a prize to be claimed.
Grace’s skin crawled. She pasted on a smile, introduced herself, endured his smirk. His interest was blatant, suffocating. She tried to step away, but he caged her easily with his body, leaning down to whisper in her ear.
And Kaleb—Kaleb’s eyes burned. Not with desire, not with tenderness. With something darker. Protective. Possessive.
Grace excused herself with brittle politeness, slipping back to her table, but Isaac wasn’t finished. He followed. He pressed. His flirtation grew heavier, edging into something that wasn’t playful anymore. And every time her gaze snagged on Caleb’s, across the bar, she found him still watching—jaw tight, hands curled into fists, as though holding himself back from a fight.
The crowd blurred. The laughter became jeers in her ears. Isaac’s hand brushed hers, held it too long, his beard scraping against her palm when he forced her touch against his cheek.
Panic flared.
Grace excused herself for the bathroom, fleeing down the narrow hallway, heart pounding. She splashed cold water on her face, whispered You’re fine. You’re safe.
But when she stepped out, Isaac was waiting.
He caught her arm. Spun her. His body pinned hers against the wall, his mouth descending before she could breathe. His lips were hot, suffocating, tasting of beer and arrogance.
“Stop,” she tried, her voice muffled. Her hands shoved at his chest, but he was immovable, the hallway too narrow, her breath too short.
And then, suddenly—he was gone.
Kaleb.
He wrenched Isaac back with a snarl, eyes blazing with a fury so raw it made Grace’s breath seize. The sound he made wasn’t human. It was low, guttural, vibrating with something primal.
He steadied her with one burning hand on her arm, then dropped it as though her skin had scorched him. “Are you okay?” His voice was harsh, ragged, but the intensity in his gaze made her tremble harder than Isaac’s assault had.
Grace nodded, though she wasn’t sure it was true.
Isaac lunged again, and Kaleb slammed him back, fury etched in every line of his body. Others rushed in, voices clashing, but Grace barely heard them. Her pulse drowned everything out.
She fled.
Later, in the cold dark of her room, she sat rigid on her bed and stared at the faint glow of the tavern down the street. The shadows moving inside it whispered of gossip, pity, shame.
She pulled her blanket tighter, but nothing could warm the chill in her chest. She had come here hoping Alaska might wash her clean of her past. Instead, she had carried her brokenness with her. She didn’t belong here. She didn’t belong anywhere.
And yet—when she closed her eyes—she saw Kaleb’s face. The fire in his eyes. The hand that steadied her, then withdrew as though touching her had cost him something.
Grace hated the way her heart responded. Hated that some part of her didn’t feel fear when she thought of him. Hated that instead, she felt the echo of warmth.
A dangerous warmth she couldn’t afford.
- Writer
