I help where I can—gathering kindling for the fire, being my usual inquisitive self. Kaleb’s efficient, every movement practiced. Soon, he builds a small fire pit, rings it with stones, and lights it with a single match.
As night falls, the temperature drops.
I zip my jacket higher, but the fire's warmth chases away the chill. We sit on a log he drags over, shoulders brushing. Stars emerge overhead—millions of them, brighter than I've ever seen in the city. No light pollution, just pure, glittering sky.
"Wow," I breathe, leaning back. "It's like a blanket of diamonds."
Kaleb nods, poking the fire with a stick. Sparks dance up. "Clearest nights up here. Makes you feel small. Even me."
"But in a good way," I say as I glance down at the town—tiny houses, the tavern's glow, the B&B porch lights. "I could… I don't know. I could maybe see myself living here. For real. Not just visiting."
The words slip out before I can catch them.
Kaleb turns, firelight flickering in his eyes. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. The quiet. The space. People like Miles and Henry, Mrs. Peplinska. And…you." I meet his gaze. "But it's more than that. It kinda feels like home already."
Kaleb sets the stick down, takes my hand. Squeezes. "I'd love that, Taron. More than you know. But don't do it for me. It has to be right for you. Your writing, your life. I won't be the reason you regret it."
My throat tightens. He's not pushing. Not demanding.
Just…caring. Selfless. Unlike Pace, with his manipulations. Unlike the guys back home, always wanting something.
"You're different," I whisper. "You really care. About what's best for me."
"Course I do." He brushes his thumb over my knuckles. "That's what Daddies do."
I can’t help but think it…Forever Daddy? The thought whispers in my mind, warm and hopeful. Could he be? The way he protects, guides, makes my body tremble. Yeah. Maybe he could be.
I watch as Kaleb stands, rummages in the cooler. "S'mores time. Can't camp without them."
I watch him skewer marshmallows on sticks, hand me one. We toast them over the fire—mine catches flame, turns black and gooey. Kaleb laughs, helps me blow it out.
It’s a sticky, sweet heaven.
"Mmm,” I say, almost drooling. “Perfect."
Kaleb makes his neat, precise. Eats half in one chomp.
I finish mine, lick my fingers. Hesitate over a second marshmallow.
Kaleb notices. "Go for it."
I shake my head. "Nah. One's enough. Don't want to… you know."
He frowns. "What?"
"Overdo it. Calories." I shrug, old insecurities creeping in. Pace's voice echoes:Lose ten, big boy.
Kaleb sets his stick down and turns me to face him.
"Taron. You're handsome and cute all in one,” Kaleb says. “You’re perfect exactly as you are. Curves and all. Eat the damns'more. Hell, eat three. You've got a great body… strong, soft, real. Don't let anyone tell you different.Ever."
Heat rushes to my cheeks—not embarrassment, but something deeper.
I feel seen. Appreciated. Desired for who I am.
I grab another marshmallow, toast it golden this time. "Thanks."