Page 21 of Call It Love (Sterling Mill #5)

Anna

I smiled through the rest of the evening, kept the conversation going, and even teased Jordan a little over dinner.

But it was a stretch—like trying to cover a deep crack in a cake with too-thin icing.

Even Jordan noticed. I caught the way his eyes kept flicking toward me, uncertain, like he was trying to understand what had changed.

I could pretend all I wanted, but what happened wasn’t okay.

The moment kept replaying in my head—me standing there in the kitchen, laughter still in the air, and then suddenly, not.

Chase’s teasing smile had faded into something else in my mind, something colder, something from before.

My body had reacted before I even realized it, stepping back like I needed to protect myself.

I hated that Chase saw it.

He didn’t push. He gave me space. But by the time he came back from taking Jordan home, I’d already cleaned up dinner and slipped out to the quiet of my cabin. I needed time to breathe. To let the ghosts settle.

But I was still too keyed up to sleep .

Instead, I stayed up late, the soft glow of the kitchen light keeping me company as I gathered ingredients I hadn’t touched in years.

Goat’s milk. Lye I’d spontaneously purchased on my last trip to town, as if some part of me already knew I’d need it.

Oils. Lavender I’d picked from the garden and hung to dry.

I needed something familiar. Something slow and calming. Something I could control with my own hands.

So I made soap. The way Mama taught me. My hands moved from memory as, late into the night, I mixed and poured as the scent filled the kitchen—soft, floral, familiar. Shortly after midnight, I finally collapsed into bed, too tired to do anything but sleep.

The next morning, I was still in my robe, hair a mess, when a knock came at the door.

I opened it cautiously, and there he was.

“Chase,” I said, tugging my robe a little tighter over the old T-shirt I wore. “Is everything okay?”

He gave me that crooked, boyish grin that made something flutter in my chest. “Depends.”

“On?”

“Well… I know today’s your day off, but how do you feel about spending it with me?”

My brows lifted. “Now?”

“What better time?”

“What exactly are we doing?”

He leaned against the door frame. “Thought we could pick up lunch at Ruth’s and head to the lake. A picnic, then maybe some paddle boating. Or just relaxing.”

“I could make something instead,” I offered.

He stepped a little closer, brushing his knuckles gently along my cheek. His touch was warm, and I leaned into it, my body responding before my brain could catch up. Everything about his movements was unhurried and deliberate, giving me all the space in the world to back away if I needed to.

My heart beat faster. This time not with fear, but with something more complicated. Anticipation. Want. Need.

His mouth brushed against mine, gentle and tentative.

My breath caught, and my fingers that had curled uncertainly at my sides now slid up his chest. His lips moved over mine, no pressure, no expectation, as if asking if this was okay.

And everything inside me whispered, Yes!

His hand found my waist, but he didn’t pull me in. He just let the moment happen. Letting it be exactly what I needed it to be, and that made my chest ache in the best way.

We stayed in a kiss that was slow and languid. Reacquainting ourselves through touch. I could feel him harden against me, but he made no move to further the kiss.

When he finally pulled back, I had to fight the impulse to haul him back to me and forget our plans for the day. To pull him back to my bedroom and pick up where we’d left off.

Instead, I opened my eyes to find him already watching me, his gaze tender but watchful, like he was still checking to make sure the storm from last night had fully passed.

“That was nice,” I murmured, my voice slightly unsteady. I was just now noticing we were still standing where anyone could have seen us.

His lips curved into a knowing smile, the heat in his eyes making the green practically glow. “That was just a promise,” he said, then leaned in to whisper in my ear, “ Nice isn’t what you’ll be calling it by the time we get where I hope we’re headed. ”

His voice was low and wrapped around me like a promise. My breath caught in anticipation.

Then, as if he hadn’t just unraveled me with his kiss and that line, he straightened. “You work hard all week. Today’s about treating you.”

“Okay,” I whispered, the words barely pushing past the flutter in my chest. I gave him a shy smile. “Let me clean up and get dressed. Want to wait inside?”

I didn’t wait for an answer; I just pushed the door open and disappeared toward my bedroom, heart racing.

Once the door clicked shut, I leaned against it, relishing its cool touch against my heated skin.

My breath still came in quick gasps. My lips still tingled from his kiss. And my skin still burned where his hands had barely touched me.

But it was more than just physical. It was the way he looked at me—like I was something precious.

It felt too soon for that. But his words still echoed in my head— That was just a promise.

And right or wrong, I wanted him to keep that promise. I wanted more. Not just the physical relief I knew he could give me, but what was behind that kiss. The connection. The comfort. The belief in me.

He wanted me to feel safe in wanting him back.

And God, I did want him.

I moved to my dresser and grabbed clean clothes with trembling hands, determined to enjoy the day and not think too hard about everything.

When I emerged a few minutes later, pulling my hair into a ponytail, he was standing by the table, looking over the mess I hadn’t had time to clean this morning.

The table was covered in supplies—bowls and molds, scattered sprigs of lavender, a saucepan with a thermometer still inside.

A wooden spoon rested in a mixing bowl with remnants of leftover cream that hadn’t quite hardened yet.

“Sorry,” I said, catching his gaze. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“You’re worth the wait,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “I’m not in a hurry,” he added, then glanced at the table. “But it looks like you were working on something.”

I followed his gaze and gave a sheepish smile. “Oh. That. Just a hobby I used to enjoy.”

He arched a brow, encouraging me.

“I used to make lavender soap with my mom,” I said quietly. “Back before…well, before things got complicated. I haven’t made any in years, but I found goat’s milk in town a while back and with all the lavender in the garden, I figured, why not?”

He leaned in and scooped a small bit from the bowl. “It’s soft. Almost like lotion.”

“It’ll continue to harden as it ages. It takes a while, but it’s worth it. Mama and I used to give them as gifts. She always said it helped calm people down. I’m not sure that actually works, but it’s good for the skin, if nothing else.”

He looked at me with a slow smile. “I believe it. I felt calmer the second I walked in here. But that might be more about being with you.”

My heart warmed at his words. I slipped my arm through his. “I’ll clean it up later. Right now, let’s go on that picnic.”

As usual, Simply Ruth’s, the popular diner in Sterling Mill, was buzzing. The low hum of conversation mixed with the clatter of dishes and the hiss of a griddle. More than a few eyes followed us as Chase and I walked inside.

Either he didn’t notice, or it didn’t bother him. He walked straight to the counter in the back like he belonged there. Which, of course, he did. I was the outsider who was more than aware of how the talking had grown quieter.

“You still like a Reuben?” Chase asked, glancing down at me.

“You remember?”

He winked. “Hard to forget how you used to hoard it and guard it like it was gold. You never wanted to share a bite.”

I chuckled at the memory. “Yeah. I haven’t had one in ages, though. Sounds perfect.”

He smiled at the server behind the counter. “We’ll take two Reubens, please. And two slices of the lemon meringue pie.” He added water and chips to the order and turned to me.

Over my head, he waved to a few people, exchanging nods and easy smiles.

I knew how small-town life worked. Word would travel faster than a fly to honey that we were here together.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” I said under my breath.

His brows drew together. “Why not?”

“I told you. People will associate the name Washington with yours now. They’ll talk.”

“Let them.”

“You’re not worried they’ll tie you to my husband and in-laws?”

Chase turned his full attention to me, his expression unapologetic. “Look, if they don’t know me well enough to trust my judgment—or know you for who you are on your own—then I don’t care about their opinion or their business. I care about you .”

Without waiting for a reply, he leaned in and brushed a kiss across my lips. Nothing flashy. Just simple and sincere.

“Let them talk about that ,” he said with a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I saw such sincerity in his eyes that I couldn’t deny his reasoning. It had been a long time since I’d had someone who put me first.

“O…okay,” I stammered.

He nodded, seeming pleased that I believed him.

Our order was ready, and as we weaved our way toward the entrance, Chase paused to greet a couple near the window.

I hesitated, then followed his lead, offering a few polite smiles and quiet hellos to those around us.

It started off as the mask I was familiar with wearing—the polished, practiced expression I used as Mason’s wife.

But as a few people returned my smile, some hesitant, others kind, I felt the shift as my smile became less rehearsed. More mine.

Something loosened in my chest. I felt freer. Less fragile. And it felt good. Really good.

As we walked outside into the warm afternoon, the sunlight caressed my face. I was feeling lighter than I had in ages. Chase shifted our lunch and reached for my hand. His fingers laced with mine.

I looked up to thank him, but my attention was grabbed by a man across the street. He watched me with a hard, flat stare.

Chase immediately felt the shift in me. “What’s wrong?” He followed my gaze across the street, his eyes narrowing when they landed on the man. “Is that your father? ”

I swallowed hard and nodded. “Let’s just ignore him.”

His jaw tightened, and I had a feeling Chase wanted to confront him.

I reached for his arm and tugged gently. “Please.”

His eyes softened as they turned to me. “If that’s what you want.”

We’d only taken two steps in the opposite direction when a voice stopped me.

“Anna?”

I whirled around, surprised to find my mother coming out of a store since she rarely came to town with her husband. A bag was hooked over her arm, and I caught a glimpse of fabric and yarn.

Memories came uninvited—curtains that brightened up the rooms, pillows that made it feel homier.

I didn’t think there was anything my mother couldn’t sew.

Clothes, too, although I didn’t appreciate them at the time.

They never matched what the other girls were wearing, but looking back, there was love in every stitch.

“Hi, Mama,” I said, my voice quiet as if I might spook her.

She glanced across the street, and I half expected her to bolt. Instead, she stepped closer, her expression a mixture of surprise and something else—relief, maybe.

“You’re looking well, sweetheart,” she said quietly. “Stronger.”

“Thanks,” I answered, managing a small smile. “I think I am.”

Her eyes shifted to Chase, who stood just a step behind me. He didn’t interrupt, just offered a respectful nod. “Ma’am.”

She returned it with a faint one of her own, then looked back at me. “I…I’ve been coming to town, hoping to see you. I didn’t know how else to find you.”

“I’m sorry. I should have reached out, but I wasn’t sure if I should.”

“It’s okay. I understand.”

“I’m staying at Silver Creek Farm. I work there now. It’s close to you if you wanted to visit.”

Her expression brightened just a little. “I’d like that.”

“Maggie!”

She flinched slightly at the call. She looked over at her husband and lifted her finger.

“He usually comes to town every other Sunday,” she murmured.

I wasn’t sure if she was warning me or letting me know she’d be with him. Either way, it was good to know.

“If you need anything, Mama?—”

“Maggie.” His voice was sterner this time.

She leaned in suddenly and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Be well, sweetheart.” She looked at Chase once more, then hurried across the street.

I watched as they walked away.

“Will she be okay?” Chase’s voice was quiet but full of concern.

I hesitated. “He’d never hurt her. At least not physically. He never yells. He’s just…” I exhaled slowly, struggling to find the right words. “Everything is rules and expectations. It’s his safety net, I think.”

I looked down the street where they’d disappeared, an ache in my chest. I saw how my dad’s behavior had chipped away at my mother. And I knew from my own experience that some hurts didn’t leave bruises, but it didn’t mean it didn’t leave a mark.

Chase studied me with a furrowed brow, and a slight frown pulled at his lips. “I’m sorry, Anna. I knew he wasn’t warm and fuzzy, but I didn’t know he was so…”

“So emotionally absent?” I offered.

He nodded.

I looked at him, grateful he didn’t try to excuse it. Even so, I felt the need to make sense of it.

“He thinks softness makes people weak,” I said slowly.

“He believes if you let people get too close to you, they’ll use it against you.

I don’t know what happened to make him believe that, only that something did.

I was a baby, and neither of my parents talked about it.

But it’s why he moved us off the grid. I think he convinced himself he was protecting us. ”

I paused and tried to clear the ache in my throat. “I think he’s gotten worse. My leaving has made him distrust me.” My voice wavered, but I wouldn’t let guilt take hold. “I can’t fix him,” I said quietly, more to myself than to Chase. “And I won’t change for him.”

Chase didn’t hesitate. He reached out and gently lifted my chin until our eyes met. “Don’t change for anyone,” he said, his voice ringing with certainty. “You don’t need to. You’re perfect the way you are.”

I started to open my mouth, instinctively ready to reject the compliment. Instead, I just let his words seep into me, filling the cracks in my soul that had formed over the years.

“I’ll remind you of that next time I forget to clean up Jack’s poop, and you step in it,” I said, lifting my eyebrow and trying to lighten the moment.

He chuckled. “All right, maybe not completely perfect.” He straightened up and tapped me on the nose. “But you’re still the one I want to have a picnic with.”

And perfect or not, the afternoon definitely was.