Page 12 of Mated By Sunrise

“You don’t need her to be happy, Caleb. There are women here who would love you for who you are, without all the waiting and uncertainty. Women who see you, who want you.”

Holly reached up, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of his arm. Caleb’s skin prickled at the touch, but not in the way he was used to with Rochelle. This wasn’t the same. The bond wasn’t there. The pull wasn’t there.

The barista smiled, her eyes hopeful. “I wouldn’t mind if you took some time to get over her. If it ended with us.”

Caleb didn’t want to hurt Holly. She was kind, sweet, and probably right in a lot of ways. But this—whatever this was—wasn’t what he needed.

“I appreciate what you’re saying,” Caleb said softly, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside him. “But I’m not ready for… anything else right now.”

Holly’s smile faltered, but she didn’t back down. “I understand. But just know, Caleb, you deserve someone who chooses you. Who wants to be with you. Don’t let her keep you stuck.”

With that, she turned and walked away, her footsteps fading into the evening quiet.

Caleb stood there for a long time, staring after her, the barista’s words echoing in his mind. She was right about one thing—he couldn’t wait forever. And if Rochelle didn’t want the bond, maybe he would have to let her go.

But as Caleb finally turned and headed into his cabin, closing the door behind him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe he was holding on to something that wasn’t meant to be. And that realization—that maybe Rochelle would never come back to him—was the hardest truth of all.

CHAPTER TEN

Rochelle tapped her pen against the counter, watching her replacement fumble with yet another form. Herb stared at the computer screen, his fingers hovering uselessly over the keyboard. Rochelle’s jaw clenched, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface.

"Uh, I think I messed up again." Herb's voice was unapologetic as he glanced over at Rochelle, clearly expecting her to fix it for him. "The program is not saving the data correctly."

Rochelle forced a tight smile, pushing back the mounting frustration. "You need to click here," she said, pointing to the correct field on the screen. "And make sure you double-check the account numbers before you hit submit. This is someone’s savings for their retirement, so we can’t afford any mistakes."

"Oh, right. Of course. I’m sorry." His big fingers fumbled again as he tried to follow Rochelle’s instructions and hit the wrong button just before hitting submit.

Rochelle resisted the urge to sigh, biting back her words. Every little mistake, every hesitation, grated on her nerves like nails on a chalkboard. Out in the reception area, Mrs. Calloway, one of her longtime clients, was patiently waiting for a routinecheck on her mortgage accounts. But Herb's voice was loud enough to carry over the desk, out the door, and into reception. The elderly woman gave Rochelle a worried smile when their eyes met.

Rochelle wasn’t just leaving a job. She was leaving people. A community. Her community.

The decision to take the promotion had seemed so simple at first. It was the next step in her career, a chance to move up, to expand her horizons. But now, standing here, watching someone who couldn’t even input basic data properly, doubt gnawed at her like a relentless itch. Could she really leave these people in the hands of someone so… incompetent?

"Okay, I think I’ve got it this time." Herb flashed a smug smile.

Rochelle glanced over at the screen, scanning the data entry for any errors. It took everything in her not to roll her eyes at the obvious mistake. She quickly corrected it herself, her fingers moving swiftly over the keys. "There, that should do it."

"Thanks," Herb said, sounding more relieved than confident.

Rochelle nodded curtly, stepping away from the desk. Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor as she moved to her office. The smell of fresh coffee, the hum of the printers, the low chatter of clients greeted her as she motioned for Mrs. Calloway to follow her. It was all so ordinary, so routine. And yet the thought of leaving it behind tugged at Rochelle in ways she hadn’t anticipated.

After expertly handling Mrs. Calloway's account, Rochelle let her head drop. She stared blankly at the paperwork in front of her. She had been so focused on her career goals, on proving that she didn’t need the bond or Caleb or anyone else to define her success. But now, with the thought of leaving, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

And then there was Caleb.

Her thoughts drifted to him, unbidden but insistent. The sight of him laughing with another woman had stirred something in her, something she didn’t want to acknowledge. Both she and her wolf had been riled up, the jealousy simmering under her skin like a slow burn. But it wasn’t just jealousy—it was guilt, too.

The barista's words rang in her ear; the sound of that ringing was the truth. Rochelle had been unfair to Caleb. She’d kept him at arm’s length for years, refusing to accept the bond but also never letting him go. She didn’t want him to be unhappy, didn’t want him to be alone. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t giving him the chance to be with someone who could truly commit to him. Maybe she should set him up with someone?

Not the barista. She wasn't what Caleb needed. Rochelle's mind toyed with the idea, trying to think of someone in the community. Someone kind, steady, someone who could offer Caleb the life he deserved. But as her thoughts wandered, she realized something startling.

She didn’tknowanyone.

Sure, she knew plenty of people through work, through the bank. She had helped families with their savings, guided couples through mortgage processes, sat down with business owners to discuss financial planning. But they were all clients. Business relationships. She didn’t have a single social relationship in the community. Not a real one.

Except Caleb.

He was the only person she talked to outside of work. They’d meet on the full moon, run through the woods together, their wolves silent but in sync. She pretended she didn’t know he was watching her every day, sitting outside the bank like some quiet, protective presence. But she had always known. He was the only constant in her life. The only true connection she had.

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