Page 11 of Sunshine and the Grumpy Groundskeeper (The Callahans of Elk Ridge #1)

Chapter Eleven

Daisy

I wake up feeling lighter than I have in months, maybe years. The morning light streams through my cabin window, highlighting Rascal's tiny paw prints on the floor and my hastily discarded clothes from yesterday. My notebook sits open on the table, filled with sketches from the wildlife blind.

Seven days until I'm supposed to leave. But what if I didn't? What if I stayed? Not forever, maybe, but longer? Janet's words echo in my mind. The deadline isn't set in stone. Sometimes the best stories aren't the ones we plan.

The thought sends nervous butterflies swarming in my stomach. I reach for my phone, smiling at the memory of Rowan's text from yesterday. Surely he'd be up by now, probably already maintaining some trail or fixing something for someone else.

No response to my good morning text. Odd, but he's never been much for technology.

An hour later, showered and dressed in my best hiking outfit, I set out to find him. The morning air is crisp, full of possibility as I check his usual spots—the maintenance shed, the east trails, even the wildlife blind where we shared that perfect moment yesterday.

No Rowan.

"Have you seen your son?" I ask Evie when I finally duck into the lodge's main building.

“He’s working on the north property line today. Some fence repairs that couldn't wait,” she says, her eyes not meeting mine.

The north property is the furthest from my cabin, from the wildlife blind, from everywhere I might naturally encounter him. The realization sits like a cold stone in my stomach.

"Is everything okay?" I force brightness into my voice.

Evie's gentle hand on my arm tells me I'm not fooling anyone. "You should ask him that, dear."

The trek to the north property takes almost an hour, Rascal trotting dutifully beside me, occasionally looking up as if to ask why we're venturing so far from our usual paths.

"Hey, stranger!" I call, when I spot him. "You're a hard man to find today."

He straightens slowly, and even from a distance, I can see the change. His shoulders are set in a stiff line, his face a careful mask that reminds me of our first meeting.

"Daisy." No smile. No warmth. Just my name, flat and neutral.

"I was hoping we could talk." I approach, Rascal running ahead to greet him. For once, Rowan doesn't bend to scratch his ears. "About yesterday. And about what happens next."

"What happens next is you finish your research and head back to New York for your book launch." His tone is matter-of-fact, almost rehearsed. He turns back to the fence post, hammering with unnecessary force.

"How did you know about that?" I stop a few feet from him, suddenly unsure.

"Mom mentioned it." He doesn't look at me. "Janet called the lodge. Sounds like an amazing opportunity. Everything you've worked for."

The distance in his voice is worse than anger would be. "It is, but I've been thinking?—"

"Don't." The hammer pauses mid-swing. "There's nothing to think about."

"Rowan, what's going on?"

"Yesterday was a mistake." The words fall like stones between us. "I got caught up in the moment. We both did."

The air leaves my lungs in a rush. "A mistake?"

"We come from different worlds, Daisy." He finally looks at me, his eyes deliberately empty. "You've got this amazing career taking off. National book tour. Celebrity endorsements. Everything you deserve."

"And that automatically means there can't be anything between us?" My voice catches, betraying the hurt his words inflict.

"Be practical." He turns back to the fence. "You belong in the city with your career. I belong here with my trails. Yesterday was nice. But it doesn't change reality."

"Reality." I echo the word, feeling something crack inside me. "And what reality is that, exactly?"

"The one where you leave in a week. The one where your life is book launches and publicity tours and city lights. The one where this—" he gestures between us, "—was never going to be more than temporary."

"You don't know that." I step closer, desperate to find the Rowan from yesterday, the one who carved animals into my trail markers and built me a perfect creative space. "We could figure something out. I could stay longer, or?—"

"Don't." His voice hardens. "Don't throw away everything you've worked for because of one kiss."

"Is that what you think I'd be doing?"

"I think you're getting swept up in mountain magic. In fairy tales about forest guardians and talking animals." His words cut like he intends them to. "But real life isn't a storybook, Daisy.”

I search his face for any sign of the man who held me yesterday, who looked at me like I was something precious, who seemed to understand the way I see the world. There's nothing but cold resolve in his expression.

"So yesterday meant nothing?" I hate the tremor in my voice. "The wildlife blind, the kiss, everything we shared was what? Killing time until I leave?"

"It meant that I forgot, for a moment, that some differences can't be bridged. That was my mistake."

"Differences?" I repeat, anger starting to burn beneath the hurt. "What differences, Rowan? The fact that I see magic in these mountains? That I write children's books? That I come from the city?"

"All of it." He sets down his hammer, finally giving me his full attention. His voice is calm, detached, like he's explaining trail safety to a stranger.

Tears burn behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. "You don't get to make that choice for me."

"I'm being realistic." His jaw tightens. "Something you might want to try."

The barb lands exactly as intended. This is Derek all over again.

Except this hurts worse, because Rowan was supposed to be different. He was supposed to understand.

"I thought you saw me," I whisper. "Really saw me."

Something cracks in his expression, just for a moment. "Daisy?—"

"No." I back away, the hurt crystallizing into something harder, sharper. "You've made yourself perfectly clear. It was a mistake. Message received."

The cabin walls close in around me as I mechanically fold clothes into my suitcase. Each item represents a day I thought I was building something real. Each notebook a collection of moments that now feel like fiction.

"I can get you in for meetings tomorrow afternoon," Janet says through the phone I've wedged between my ear and shoulder. "But honey, are you sure? You still had a week left for research."

"I have everything I need." My voice sounds hollow even to my own ears.

"Did something happen with?—"

"No." I cut her off, unable to hear his name. "I’m ready to get back to real life."

Janet's silence speaks volumes. "I'll email your itinerary," she finally says.

I work methodically, efficiently, refusing to linger on memories. The wildlife sketches go into a separate folder. His jacket, returned to the lodge office with a brief note of thanks. Each action another brick in the wall between then and now.

Until I find it.

The tiny purple sweater, perfectly sized for Rascal, made with such care by hands that just hours ago pushed me away. I sink to the floor, the soft yarn clutched against my chest as the dam finally breaks. Rascal whines softly, pressing his warm body against my side as I sob.

"It was real," I whisper to no one. "I know it was real."

But real isn't always enough.

Morning comes too quickly and not quickly enough. Evie meets me at the lodge as I check out, her eyes soft with understanding I can't bear to acknowledge.

"You don't have to leave, dear," she says gently.

"I do." I hand her the cabin key, our fingers briefly touching. "Thank you for everything. The lodge is magical."

"The lodge will be here." The weight of her words encompasses more than timber and stone. "Whenever you're ready to return."

I nod, not trusting my voice. She presses a small package into my hands.

"For the journey," she says. Blueberry muffins, still warm.

Packing the car feels strange after my time here. Rascal settles reluctantly in his carrier, sensing the wrongness of our abrupt departure. I make one final sweep of the cabin, then load the last of my bags.

As I close the trunk, something pulls my gaze toward the eastern trail. The path that leads to the wildlife blind. To his gift that now feels like a monument to what might have been.

That's when I see him.

Rowan stands at the edge of the trees, partially hidden like the forest creature I once thought him to be. Our eyes lock across the distance. For one breathless moment, I think he might come to me. That he might fight for what we found in these mountains.

He doesn't move.

I slide into the driver's seat, hands shaking on the steering wheel. In the rearview mirror, his figure grows smaller as I drive away. The mountains that felt like home just days ago now loom in my mirrors like monuments to another life I almost had. Ahead lies New York, success, everything I worked for before I knew what else I might want.

The book will be published. Children will enjoy the adventures of forest friends and a brave little rabbit who learns to read trail markers. It will be everything I dreamed of.