Page 16

I TOOK OUR coffees to the small table by the sofa, forcing myself to take a deep breath and turn my attention back to the letters.

I was so immersed in their story that I didn’t notice when the door creaked open, and Sam returned, carrying a large wooden box with Sam’s Stuff painted on the side in faded letters.

He placed it on the table, then opened it and sifted through what appeared to be a collection of childhood mementos.

At last, he extracted a bundle of papers secured with string, the edges of the pages darkened with stains.

“I thought you might like to see this,” he said, dropping it onto the table in front of me.

“We were assigned to write a story about someone from history, and I had the perfect candidate. So, this is Samuel P. Caldwell, as told by ten-year-old me.”

A smile tugged at my lips as I picked up the report—this was exactly what I needed.

Something straightforward, something that didn’t carry weight.

Something good. The string was neatly tied, the paper edges worn and stained to look like an old document.

“I soaked it in tea and baked it in the oven to give it that aged look,” Sam said.

“Took forever to dry.”

I loosened the string and opened the first page.

Sam’s handwriting stretched across the paper, uneven and bold, the kind of careful effort that belonged to an elementary school project.

“Samuel Philip Caldwell, born in 1880,” I read aloud, “the eldest son of a farmer and the founder of Caldwell Crossing, New Hampshire.” There was an asterisk beside the word founder and an explanation beneath it.

“A town founder is like the person who started everything. They chose the spot where the town would be, decided how it should grow, and worked really hard to make it happen. That is so cute.”

Sam shrugged, leaning against the back of a chair.

“It’s not Pulitzer-worthy, but I think it works.”

I continued reading, turning the page to find a section titled Things that Were Changing for Samuel .

Underneath, bullet points highlighted the advancements of the time, including electric power in towns (though not on the farm) and telephones.

There was also a section on a phonograph, which Sam noted was an old-fashioned music player, accompanied by a pasted-in photo.

Another section, What Samuel Used , explained that horses were still used to pull farming equipment and that Samuel cultivated crops and tended livestock alongside his father until they began the maple farm.

When I got to the last page, I was hooked on how cute ten-year-old Sam was, and I read the last of it out loud.

“Then he grew a maple farm, the town got big around it, and the railroad was close, and they called the town Caldwell Crossing. The End.”

I looked up at Sam, who watched me sheepishly.

“It sums up his life pretty well, don’t you think,” he said with a smile.

I liked his smile a whole lot.

I liked it so much I wanted to kiss it again.

But should I be doing this?

I was supposed to be back in Boston, facing everything I’d been avoiding.

And what awaited me there…

it might not have a happy ever after.

Then what?

I was selfish—I knew it—but right now, I wanted him.

I wanted this moment, his warmth, his smile, which made me forget everything else.

And that made me the worst person in the world.

I nodded, placed the report back on the table, and wondered how to begin Operation Get Sam in Bed.

“Do you have a toothbrush that I can…”

“Yeah, sure, in the bathroom, I left it on the side for you.”

I scampered into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, tried to fix my hair, and then was back with Sam as quick as I could.

“That was fast,” he joked, but I cut him off when I took the coffee from his hand and settled on his lap, straddling his thighs and staring down at him.

“You. Me. Bed.” I murmured.

Sam chuckled, his hands settling on my hips.

“Eager, are we?” he teased, but I could see the desire darkening his eyes.

I leaned in, brushing my lips against his.

“You have no idea.”

We stumbled to our feet, lips locked in a heated kiss.

Sam’s touch roamed my back as we shuffled toward the bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded clothing in our haste.

I laughed as I nearly tripped over my pants, Sam steadying me with strong arms.

“Careful there,” he murmured against my neck, nipping gently.

We tumbled onto his bed in a tangle of limbs, both of us down to our underwear.

Sam hovered over me, his weight a delicious pressure.

I arched up, seeking more contact.

“Wait,” Sam said, pulling back.

“We should talk about y’know…”

I didn’t know, and I frowned up at him, and then it hit me.

“Right, of course. I’m on PrEP. The last test was negative two months ago, and I’m vers.” I tilted my chin.

“But I prefer to bottom.”

Sam’s eyes darkened.

“Negative and on PrEP. But it’s been a while for me. We should still use condoms, and fuck, I can’t wait to be inside you.”

“It’s been a while for me too.”

Sam smiled, brushing a strand of hair from my forehead.

“No rush then. We can take our time.”

I laughed, wrapping my legs around his waist. “Oh no, we’re not slowing down now. We can go slow next time.”

Sam’s eyes lit up.

“‘Next time’, huh?”

“Definitely,” I breathed, pulling him down for another kiss.

Our movements became more frantic, hands exploring every inch of newly exposed skin.

Sam’s lips trailed down my neck, leaving a heated path.

I gasped as he kissed and tugged at my nipples, my hips bucking up involuntarily.

“Sam,” I moaned, threading my fingers through his hair.

“Please…”

He looked up at me, eyes dark with desire.

“What do you need, Ben?”

“You,” I panted.

“Inside me. Now.”

Sam’s lips curved into a wicked smile.

He crawled up my body, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my chest and neck.

I arched into him, desperate for more contact.

“Patience,” he murmured against my skin.

I whined in frustration, my hands roaming over his back.

Every brush of his body against mine sent sparks of electricity through me.

The anticipation was exquisite torture.

Sam’s fingers trailed down my sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He gripped my hips, positioning himself between my legs.

I wrapped them around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Please,” I begged again, beyond caring how needy I sounded.

Finally, agonizingly slowly, Sam began to push inside me.

I gasped at the stretch and fullness, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

Sam stilled, giving me time to adjust. His eyes locked with mine, filled with a mixture of lust and tenderness that made my heart ache.

I nodded, signaling I was ready.

He started to move, setting a maddeningly slow pace.

Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through me.

I clung to him, our bodies slick with sweat as we rocked together.

“Faster,” I pleaded, my voice rough with need.

Sam obliged, picking up the tempo.

The room filled with the sounds of our labored breathing and the whisper of skin against skin.

I lost myself in the sensations, my world narrowing to just Sam and the incredible things he was making me feel.

I could tell he was getting close.

His movements became more erratic, his grip on my hips tightening.

I slid a hand between our bodies, desperate to find release.

“ Please …come with me, Ben,” Sam pleaded, his voice husky and strained.

His words pushed me over the edge.

I cried out as pleasure exploded through me, my body tensing and shuddering.

Sam followed moments later, burying his face in my neck as he climaxed with a deep groan.

We lay tangled together, catching our breath.

Sam’s weight pressed me into the mattress, but I didn’t mind.

I never wanted him to move.

I ran my fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, savoring the afterglow.

Eventually, Sam lifted his head to look at me.

His eyes were soft, a tender smile playing on his lips.

He brushed a gentle kiss against my mouth.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured.

I felt a rush of warmth in my chest. “So are you,” I replied, tugging him down for another kiss.

Sam chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips before carefully pulling out and disposing of the condom.

He flopped back onto the bed beside me, and I curled into his side, resting my head on his chest.

“So much for going slow,” Sam said with a chuckle, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back.

I grinned up at him.

“I told you we’d go slow later.”

“You did,” he agreed, kissing my forehead.

“Though I have to admit, I’m not complaining.”

We lay there in comfortable silence, basking in the afterglow.

Sam’s steady heartbeat under my ear was soothing, and I fought to keep my eyes open.

“Shower?” Sam asked, his hand still on my back.

I lifted my head to look at him, a mischievous glint in my eye.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Sam grinned and pulled me in for a deep kiss before we separated and went to the bathroom.

The shower was spacious, with warm water cascading over us as we stepped inside.

At first, we focused on cleaning up, passing the soap back and forth.

But soon enough, soapy hands began to wander, and cleaning gave way to more intimate touches.

Sam pressed me against the cool tile wall, his lips finding that sensitive spot on my neck again.

“Round two already?” I teased, even as I tilted my head to give him better access.

“What can I say?” Sam murmured against my skin.

“You’re irresistible.”

We took it slow this time, savoring every touch and kiss as the steam swirled around us.

Sam’s touch branded my skin, and I shivered despite the warmth of the water.

“You’re beautiful,” Sam whispered, his lips brushing my shoulder.

I felt my cheeks flush, not just from the shower’s heat.

“So are you,” I replied, letting my hands trail down his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingers.

“Stay here with me forever,” he said, his voice low, the words slipping out like a secret.

I stiffened, my hands freezing mid-motion.

“Sorry?” I asked, my voice shaky, unsure if I’d heard him right.

Sam pulled back, his brow furrowed, the vulnerability in his expression hitting me hard.

“I’m sorry,” he said, gripping his damp hair.

“I didn’t mean to… I just got caught in the moment.”

I swallowed, my heart pounding.

“Sam, you know I have to go back to Boston,” I said, my voice quieter now.

He nodded, his jaw tightening and his gaze locked on mine.

“Do you?” he asked.

The question hung between us, and I couldn’t answer right away.

My mind raced, trying to untangle the knot of emotions inside me.

Boston was my past, my mess, my chaos.

But it was also unfinished, a thread that still needed tying off.

Sam was quiet, his gaze steady but unreadable.

He reached out and cupped my face, his thumb brushing my cheekbone.

The touch was so tender it made my chest ache.

“The thing is,” he said, “I can see forever with you.”

His words were like a punch to the gut—raw, honest, and terrifying.

Because I felt it, too.

I could see it in the quiet mornings, the laughter over pancakes, the way he looked at me as if I mattered.

But that didn’t mean I deserved it.

Not with the mess I was dragging behind me.

“Sam…” I started.

He pressed his forehead against mine, cutting me off.

“You don’t have to have all the answers right now,” he said.

“But don’t shut the door on what we could have. Don’t decide for both of us that this is over before it starts.”

My throat was tight, and I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I kissed him, pouring everything I couldn’t say into it.

The uncertainty, the fear, the hope—I let him feel it all.

The water continued to cascade around us, but for a moment, time stood still.

At that moment, I believed that maybe forever was something we could figure out together.

We explored each other, trading languid kisses and gentle caresses.

The urgency from earlier had faded, replaced by a tender intimacy that made my heart ache in the best way.

I’d never been with anyone like this, where just a touch was enough to make me sigh.

Eventually, the water started to cool, and we stepped out of the shower.

Sam wrapped me in a soft, fluffy towel, gently rubbing my arms to fend off the chill.

We dried ourselves off and returned to the bedroom, still bundled in our towels.

“I’m not working today or tomorrow. You could stay for tonight, maybe?” His eyes were warm and hopeful, but hope began to fade when I didn’t answer immediately.

“It’s just an idea. You don’t have to.”

The offer hit me harder than it should have.

I wasn’t a man to play with someone’s heart, yet I was walking a dangerous line, falling for Sam a kiss at a time, and considering a future here in Caldwell Crossing.

The man who’d broken his heart—Byron—had left Sam in pieces, stringing him along with promises that had never materialized, leaving him to pick up the shards of something that could’ve been.

Could I risk being that for him—someone he grew close to who went on to break his heart?

Could I ask him to wait for me if things went south?

If the case dragged on or if I had to testify or got tangled up in ways I couldn’t foresee?

Hell, what if the prosecution decided that with the missing audit records, I wasn’t just a whistleblower but complicit in some way?

Could I let Sam tether himself to someone who might end up on the wrong side of the law or at least a public spectacle?

Or end up behind bars?

Could I let myself fall in love?

No, I couldn’t.

And yet, selfishly, I want to stay in his arms, if only for tonight.

My head told me I had no right to hold on to him, not with the storm clouds of my past still circling.

But my heart? My heart won out over my head every single time.

I managed a nod, keeping my tone light.

“I want to stay.”

With you.

In Caldwell Crossing.

Was he asking for more?

Commitment? I couldn’t promise him anything longer than tonight.

Not when Boston still loomed like a shadow over everything.

Sam nodded, rummaging through his dresser.

He handed me a soft T-shirt, a pair of jogging bottoms, and a thick sweatshirt.

“These should work, but they’ll be a bit loose.”

I slipped them on, inhaling the faint scent of Sam’s laundry detergent while tracing the logo of Stonebridge Maple Farm—a maple leaf and a stone bridge, silver on dark red.

When I looked up, Sam was watching me with a gentle expression.

“What?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious.

He shook his head, smiling.

“Nothing. You look sexy in my clothes.”

I felt my cheeks heat up as we headed to the living room and curled up on the sofa again, watching an old James Bond film and chuckling over his not-so-witty one-liners.

I sent Harriet a message explaining I was now staying overnight, and she responded with a thumbs-up.

I ignored Rachel’s newer messages, which included screenshots of the latest updates in the Nelson Review online war.

In fact, while Sam made us coffee, I finished everything and closed my phone, powered it down, and tucked it under the pillow again.

Sam’s cabin felt like a world of its own, a bubble of warmth and quiet I didn’t want to disturb.

Outside, everything could crumble for all I cared, but here?

Here, it was safe. I’d told myself I wouldn’t check my phone today—no emails, no messages, no news—just one day of peace.

Sam didn’t push. He didn’t ask.

He just… was. And that was precisely what I needed.

He offered me a hand and we headed into his bedroom, and all too soon we were cuddled up under the covers.

We kissed a little, but Sam was growing quieter, and yawning.

“Night,” I whispered, turning so that he was the big spoon, and I was nestled into him. “Night.”