Page 12 of Sunshine and the Grumpy Groundskeeper (The Callahans of Elk Ridge #1)

Chapter Twelve

Rowan

T he wildlife blind stands empty, abandoned like the foolish hopes I built along with it. Three days since Daisy left, and I've avoided this place like a wound too fresh to touch. Now I stand in the doorway, staring at the space where she once sat, sketching forest creatures and weaving magic from ordinary things.

A sheet of paper flutters in the light breeze—one of her drawings, forgotten. A groundhog wearing a tiny vest. Gordon the Groundhog Mayor. I carefully pick it up, my fingers tracing the lines she drew with such joy.

I did the right thing. I know I did. So why does doing the right thing feel like tearing out a piece of myself?

"I thought I might find you here."

Mom's voice startles me. I quickly fold the drawing, tucking it into my pocket.

"Checking for maintenance issues." My voice sounds hollow even to my own ears.

"Of course." She steps inside, her eyes taking in the small touches I'd added for Daisy. "It's beautiful, Rowan. A perfect gift."

"It doesn't matter now."

"Doesn't it?" She settles onto the small bench, patting the space beside her. When I don't move, she sighs. "You've been working yourself to exhaustion for three days. Avoiding everyone."

"I've been busy." The excuse sounds pathetic. "There's work to do."

"There's work to hide behind, you mean."

Before I can respond, footsteps approach outside. Liam appears, his expression a mixture of concern and determination.

"Intervention time?" I ask bitterly.

"If that's what you want to call it." He leans against the doorframe, blocking my escape route.

"I'm fine."

"You're miserable," Mom counters gently. "And too stubborn to admit you made a mistake."

"The mistake would have been letting it go further." I turn away, unable to bear the sympathy in her eyes. "She has her book launch, her career taking off. Everything she's worked for."

"So you decided for her," Liam says. "Without even giving her a choice."

"There was no choice to make." I run a hand through my hair, frustration building. "We're from different worlds. She needs?—"

"What exactly do you think she needs?" Mom interrupts. "Because from where I'm sitting, what she needed was someone who saw her magic and didn't try to change it. Someone who built her spaces to create instead of telling her to be more practical."

Her words hit too close to the conversation with Daisy, to the hurt in her eyes when I pushed her away.

"It wouldn't have worked."

"You mean you were too afraid to try." Liam's voice lacks its usual judgment, replaced by something like understanding.

"I was being realistic." The defense sounds weaker each time I use it.

"No, sweetheart." Mom reaches into her bag, pulling out a bound manuscript. "You were being afraid."

I recognize it immediately. It’s a copy of Daisy's book draft, the pages she'd been working on during her stay. The cover shows a small rabbit and a bear standing at a fork in a trail.

"She left this behind," Mom says, holding it out to me. "Or maybe she left it for you. I'm not sure."

Reluctantly, I take it, opening to a random page. The illustrations punch the air from my lungs. There’s the bear teaching the rabbit to read trail markers, to find safety in the forest, to trust that some paths, though difficult, are worth taking.

"Read the dedication," Mom says softly.

I flip to the front page, where Daisy's handwriting flows across the paper:

For the forest guardian who taught me that the most magical trails are the ones we're brave enough to follow, even when we can't see where they lead.

Something cracks inside me, a wall I've built so carefully finally beginning to crumble.

"You became the very thing you feared most," Liam says quietly. "The one who leaves."

"I didn't—" But I did. Not physically, but in every way that mattered. I closed the door before she could walk through it. I abandoned what we might have had because I was too afraid to risk the pain of losing it later.

"She was never just another guest, son." Mom touches my arm gently. "And you know it."

The truth I've been fighting crashes through my defenses. "I’ve been falling for her." The words, finally spoken aloud, hang in the small space.

"We know." Liam's smile holds no triumph, only relief. "The question is, what are you going to do about it?"

"It's too late." Even as I say it, something rebellious stirs in my chest. "She's gone."

"Gone, not vanished." Mom stands, taking the manuscript from my hands and opening it to the last page—an illustration of the bear standing alone at a crossroads, looking lost. "Some stories aren't finished yet."

"She's meeting with her publisher tomorrow," Liam adds. "Some big planning session for the BookWorld promotion in Manhattan."

“I called Janet,” Mom adds.

"Manhattan." The word itself represents everything I'm not—urban, sophisticated, bustling with ambition and opportunity.

"Terrifying, isn't it?" Mom's eyes twinkle with understanding. "A place with no trail markers, no familiar paths."

"I wouldn't even know how to find her."

"I have her address." Mom pulls out a slip of paper, clearly prepared for this moment. "And the publishing house information. Janet said they'll be meeting all day, planning the launch that's coming up in a few months."

I stare at it, the neat handwriting mapping a route to another world. To her world.

"What would I even say?" The question emerges more vulnerable than I intended.

"The truth might be a good start." Liam pushes off from the doorframe. "That you were wrong to tell her to leave. That you're sorry. That you love her."

"And if she doesn't want to hear it?"

"Then at least you tried." Mom tucks the paper into my shirt pocket, right next to Daisy's forgotten sketch. "Which is more than you can say right now."

They're right. Of course they're right. I've spent my life maintaining the grounds and trails, ensuring safe passage for others while refusing to step off my own carefully marked path.

"I need to pack." The decision crystallizes. "And book a flight."

Mom's smile blooms like mountain laurel in spring. "Already done. You leave in three hours."

"You were that sure I'd come around?"

"No." She cups my cheek like she did when I was small. "But I was sure you'd regret it forever if you didn't try."

New York City is too loud, too bright, too crowded. Taxi horns blare as I study the address on the hotel slip for the tenth time, double-checking I'm heading in the right direction.

The Plaza Hotel looms ahead, impossibly grand against the backdrop of Central Park. I pause on the sidewalk, my hiking boots and flannel shirt marking me as clearly out of place among the suits and designer dresses flowing through the revolving doors.

This is madness. What am I doing here? Chasing a woman I pushed away through a city I don't understand to say... what, exactly?

The truth, Mom had said. Start with the truth.

The lobby gleams with marble and gold, making the lodge's rustic elegance seem quaint by comparison. The woman at the reception desk eyes my outdoorsman appearance with professional wariness.

"I'm here to see Daisy Harper," I say, my voice rough from disuse during the flight. "She's a guest."

"I'm afraid I can't give out information about our guests, sir."

Of course. What did I expect? That I could just waltz in and find her, like spotting a deer on a familiar trail?

"Could you at least let her know Rowan Callahan is here?" I try again. "From Mountain Laurel Lodge?"

The receptionist's perfectly shaped eyebrow lifts slightly. "One moment, please."

As she reaches for the phone, movement by the elevator catches my eye. Daisy emerges, dressed in a simple blue dress that somehow makes her look both professional and utterly herself. Her hair is pulled back, her expression tired but composed as she checks something on her phone.

She hasn't spotted me yet. I could still leave, spare us both the aftermath of my mistakes. But then she looks up, scanning the lobby, and our eyes lock across the polished expanse.

Time suspends as shock registers on her face, followed by confusion, hurt, and something else I can't quite name. She doesn't approach, but she doesn't flee either, frozen in place as I cross the lobby toward her.

"Rowan?" My name on her lips carries a universe of questions. "What are you doing here?"

"I needed to see you." The carefully rehearsed speech evaporates, leaving only raw honesty. "I made a terrible mistake."

Her expression hardens. "Which one? Pushing me away or following me to New York?"

"The first one." I swallow hard. "Definitely the first one."

A businessman bumps past us, breaking the moment. Daisy glances around the busy lobby.

"We can't do this here." She gestures toward a quieter corner with plush seating. "Although I'm still not sure we should do this at all."

I follow her, aware of the space between us and the rigid set of her shoulders that used to relax around me.

"How did you even find me?" she asks once we're seated.

"Janet told Mom about your meetings. Mom gave me your hotel information." I hesitate. "I'm sorry for just showing up like this. I should have called, but I was afraid..."

"Afraid of what?"

"That you wouldn't want to talk to me. That you'd hang up. That you'd be right to do so."

Something in her expression softens slightly. "I had back-to-back meetings all day. Might not have answered anyway."

"How did they go?" I ask, genuinely wanting to know despite the more urgent matters between us.

Surprise flickers across her face at the question. "Really well, actually. BookWorld is excited about the forest friends concept. If the launch goes well, they're offering a multi-book contract."

"That's amazing, Daisy. You deserve it."

"Do I?" Her eyes search mine. "Because the last time we spoke, you made it pretty clear my dreams were impractical fantasies."

The deserved jab hits its mark. "I was wrong. So wrong." I lean forward, willing her to believe me. "I said those things because I was terrified."

"Of what?"

"Of this." I gesture between us. "Of caring about someone who had every reason to leave. Of not being enough to make you want to stay."

Her eyes widen slightly. "So you pushed me away first? Before I could leave on my own?"

"It sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud."

"It is ridiculous." But the ghost of a smile touches her lips. "And incredibly frustrating."

"I know." I take a breath, gathering courage. "The truth is, I fell in love with you, Daisy. With your stories and your kindness and the way you see magic in everything. And it scared the hell out of me."

She's very still, her expression unreadable.

"I convinced myself it was better to end it cleanly than risk watching you realize the mountains weren't enough. That I wasn't enough." I meet her gaze steadily. "I was a coward."

"Yes, you were." Her voice is soft but firm.

"I don't expect you to forgive me. I just needed you to know the truth. That nothing about what we shared was a mistake." I pull her forgotten sketch from my pocket, smoothing its creases before holding it out to her. "It was the most real thing I've felt in years."

She takes the drawing, her fingers tracing the lines of Gordon the Mayor. "You kept this?"

"I found it in the blind after you left." The memory of those empty days twists in my chest. "I missed you. Every day. Every trail. Every moment."

Her expression softens.

"I had meetings all day with publishers," she says, changing direction. "About marketing plans, tour schedules, follow-up books."

My heart sinks. Of course. Her career is taking off, just as she deserves. "That's wonderful."

"It is." She looks down at the drawing, then back at me. "And you know what I realized sitting in those meetings?"

"What?"

"That I can write from anywhere." Her eyes hold mine, steady and sure. "That the best stories I've ever written came from sitting in that wildlife blind you built me."

Hope flickers, dangerous and fragile. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that before you showed up here, I was already thinking about moving to Elk Ridge." She says it so simply, so matter-of-factly, that for a moment I'm sure I've misheard.

"You... what?"

"The publishers don't care where I live as long as I can make it to New York occasionally for meetings. I can do most of my work remotely." A small smile forms. "And it turns out I do my best writing surrounded by mountain magic and grumpy forest guardians."

"But your life in Charlotte..."

"I’m not planning on going back to teaching." She leans forward slightly. "Besides, the lodge felt more like home in two weeks than my apartment has in two years."

The hope expands, threatening to crack my ribs. "Even with me pushing you away?"

"Especially with you pushing me away." She shakes her head. "Because it showed me how much it hurt to leave, even when I thought you didn't want me there."

"I do want you there." The words rush out. "More than anything."

"Do you?" Her eyes search mine, still cautious. "Because I need to know this isn't another moment you'll regret when reality sets in. When my chaos disrupts your ordered world or when my career needs attention."

"I flew to New York City—a place that terrifies me—and tracked you to a hotel fancier than anywhere I've ever been, wearing hiking boots and flannel." I gesture to myself, to the incongruous picture I must make in this elegant setting. "If that's not commitment to disruption, I don't know what is."

That earns a real smile, one that reaches her eyes. "It is pretty convincing."

I reach for her hand, relieved when she doesn't pull away. "I love you, Daisy Harper. Your chaos, your magic, your talking animals. All of it. And I'm sorry it took losing you to realize I'd rather have a messy, complicated future with you than a safe, empty one without you."

Her fingers curl around mine, warm and forgiving. "You hurt me."

"I know."

"You'll need to make it up to me."

"Every day," I promise. "For as long as you'll let me."

"That might be a very long time." Her eyes shine with something I haven't dared hope for. "Because it turns out I love you too, Rowan Callahan. Even when you're being a stubborn, frustrating mountain man."

"Especially then?" I ask, echoing her words.

"Especially then." She squeezes my hand. "Though I reserve the right to remind you of this moment the next time you try to make decisions for both of us."

"Fair enough." I bring her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "So what happens now?"

She stands, tugging me up with her. "Now you kiss me properly, forest guardian. And then we figure out the rest together."

I pull her close, marveling at how perfectly she fits against me, at how the chaos of New York fades when she's in my arms. Her lips meet mine in a kiss that feels like coming home and embarking on an adventure all at once.

When we break apart, her eyes are bright with tears and laughter. "I can't believe you came to New York."

"I'd go anywhere for you." The truth is simple now that I've stopped fighting it. "Even if there are no trail markers to follow."

"We'll make our own," she says, her smile holding all the magic I almost convinced myself wasn't real. "That's what we do best."

As we leave the hotel hand in hand, the city suddenly seems less overwhelming. Still not my natural habitat, but fascinating through Daisy's eyes as she points out details I would have missed—the pattern of light through buildings, the resilient tree growing through concrete, the stories written in every face we pass.

I don't know exactly what our future looks like. How we'll balance mountains and cities, solitude and publicity, her whimsy and my practicality. But for the first time, the unmarked trail ahead doesn't fill me with fear.

It fills me with possibility.