productions. Just quietly being there for her.
So he got up that morning before dawn, gazed out at the thick blanket of snow, and dressed. He tossed the snow shovel into the back of his truck and headed into town, parked in front of her house, and then cleared the driveway. He cleared the sidewalks, too, because he wanted it to be safe for her to walk. She was from the South, and all this snow was new to her. She slid all over the icy walkways because she hadn’t quite figured out how to get her feet in the winter yet, so he was going to quietly help out. He scraped the porch clear of snow, too, as silently as he could. She probably needed a good night’s sleep after yesterday’s turmoil, and he didn’t want to wake her.
Even so, the light went on in the living room, and a few moments later, the front door opened. Amy stood there, shivering in her thin robe, her arms crossed over her chest. Her normally smooth dark hair was an utter mess, and her eyes were red and swollen from crying, the tip of her nose pink.
Despite this, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“What are you doing here?” Amy whispered, looking at him. There was longing in her eyes, and hurt, he realized, and his uncle was absolutely right. Whatever it was that was driving Amy right now, she still cared about him. It was a relief to see.
He wanted to grab her and pull her to his chest. To hug the hell out of her and let her know that everything was going to be all right. There was a wariness to her posture, though, that told him it wouldn’t be permitted. So he just leaned on the shovel and tried to shrug, casually. “I’m shoveling snow.”
“But why?” Her eyes watered and she swiped at her cheeks. “Why are you here?” There was a broken little catch in her voice that tore at him. “I told you we were done.”
“I know.” Caleb forced himself to sound casual. Unaffected. It was harder than he thought, especially with those tears rolling down her cheeks. He wanted to brush them away and kiss her so hard that she was never sad again. Instead, he kept leaning against that damn shovel. “I wanted to do this anyhow.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” she told him, accusing. “I didn’t ask you to do any of this. Anything! I can shovel my own walkway!”
Her outburst was surprising. “I know you can. I just did it because I wanted to. Because I love you.”
She looked up at him with eyes shining with tears. Her face crumpled, and then a ragged sob tore from her throat. “Caleb—”
“I know. It’s okay.” He caressed her cheek, reaching out to touch her. “I promise it’s okay.”
Amy sobbed harder, her shoulders shaking with her sadness. She looked so ready to collapse that he couldn’t stand on the porch any longer and just do nothing. Fuck doing nothing. He tossed the shovel aside and picked her up instead, carrying her into the house. She cried against his neck, burrowing against him as he carried her to her room and gently laid her on the bed. Donner was still in the blankets, his tail thumping cautiously as he sniffed the air. Caleb touched him, too, gave him a quick pet to reassure him, and then his attention was back on his Amy. His beautiful, sad, lovely woman.
“Tell me what’s wrong so I can help you, baby.” It was the first time he’d called her something like that, and it felt good. Felt right.
She cried harder, reaching for him. “I’m such a mess.”
“You’re not a mess.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled her into his arms, her legs crosswise over his lap. She clung to his neck, wetting his coat with her tears, and he stroked her hair and her arm, just touching her. Comforting her.
“I am a mess,” she insisted, sniffling. “I wanted to be so independent, and I’m terrible at it. I can’t do anything. I’m broke and alone and I’m using you and I’m just . . . miserable.” A fresh round of tears erupted. “I wanted to be my own person and here I am, doing the same stupid shit. I’m falling into the same old traps and I’m dragging you down with me.”
“You’re not dragging me anywhere I don’t want to go,” Caleb reassured