Page 104 of Chasing the Sun

His face was inches from mine, his deep eyes intensifying in the darkness. One finger slid down my nose with the gentlest touch. “It never really was.”

Before I could respond, he cupped my jaw, tilting myface up as his mouth claimed mine. It wasn’t hurried or desperate—it was deep, lingering, full of something I couldn’t name but felt down to my bones. His lips moved over mine with purpose, with quiet possession, like he was memorizing the shape of me, like he was staking his claim.

By the time he pulled back, my breath was uneven, my lips tingling, my thoughts scattered and wantingmore.

Cal paused, brushing his thumb over my bottom lip before stepping away. With a click of his tongue, he barely had to glance down before Scratch trotted after him like she’d been waiting for the cue. Scratch purred, entirely unbothered, as if she had already decided where she belonged.

I stood there, stunned, watching them disappear into the night, my lips still tingling, my heart still racing.

That man was going to ruin me.

I shut the door behind me, leaning against it for a long beat, letting out a slow breath. My lips still tingled, my skin still warm from Cal’s touch. My body hummed with the weight of everything that had happened tonight—the intimacy, the way he had opened up, the way I had let him in.

Who was I kidding? I had fallen for Callum Blackwood. Hard.

Shaking my head, I moved toward the bed, peeling back the covers before finding a pair of cozy pajamas. I needed a hot shower and a deep sleep to recover from my evening with Cal. As I stripped off my jeans, I caught sight of my discarded phone on the nightstand. The screen glowed with a string of missed texts, one from Selene.

Selene

I don’t know why I am surprised you pulled it off, but the Keepers are all in for helping with the barn raising. Are you ready for Star Harbor to descend on you like a well-meaning hurricane?

I exhaled sharply,my pulse skipping.

It’s really happening.

My mind spun as I typed out a response. I set the phone down, the weight of it pressing into my chest. This farm, this wild dream—it was coming together, piece by piece, and not just because of me, but because of them. The people of this town, the Keepers, my family. Even Cal.

I ran my hands over my face, overwhelmed, but in the best way.

For the first time since I’d come back to Star Harbor, I wasn’t just trying to hold on to someone else’s dream. The dream had become my own, and I was building something real. Something lasting and meaningful.

And for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t doing it alone.

THIRTY-ONE

CALLUM

I woke before sunrise.

The Drifted Spirit was quiet, the kind of stillness that only existed in those fragile moments before the rest of the world woke up. I moved through the inn on instinct—bare feet against worn hardwood, the soft creak of the floorboards beneath my weight, the faint scent of coffee beans filling the air as I started a fresh pot.

It was muscle memory at this point. My routine. Brew the coffee. Look out over the land. Pretend like I wasn’t aching for something more.

The air was cool against my skin as I poured a travel mug for myself. And then, without thinking, I grabbed a second one.

For her.

I stared at it for a long beat, watching the steam curl into the air. It was ridiculous. She could pour her own damn coffee, but I set it on the counter anyway. In a paper bag, I gathered a few baked items that I had made, just in case anyone got hungry.

Steam curled from the mugs as I leaned against thecounter, staring out the kitchen window toward Star Harbor Farm. The sky was just beginning to shift, navy giving way to shades of deep purple and dusky pink, streaks of gold breaking over the horizon.

It would be a good day for barn raising.

I exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over my jaw. The land was still now, but in a few hours, it would be crawling with people. The Amish. The Keepers. The whole damn town.

Elodie.

She consumed my thoughts. I glanced toward the counter. Our two mugs sat there, both filled to the brim. One black, the way I always drank it. The other fixed just the way she liked—oat milk, a thick layer of foam, and a drizzle of caramel over the top.