Page 46 of Hero's Heart

Sloane couldn’t help but laugh. “Electric Smurf? That sounds dangerous.”

“Oh, it is,” Callum agreed, his eyes twinkling. “But it’s all part of the charm. The people in Oak Creek have really become like family to me. Especially since my wife died.”

He’d told her he wasn’t married yesterday, but she hadn’t known it was because he was a widower. “I’m so sorry.”

Callum nodded, his smile turning wistful. “Yeah. It’s been seven years since she passed. Oak Creek has sort of become myfamily now. They make sure I’m not alone—or at least, make sure I know I don’t have to be alone if I don’t want to be.”

Sloane felt a pang in her chest, both for Callum’s loss and for the sense of community she’d never known. “It sounds wonderful,” she said quietly. “All of it. Would you…would you mind telling me more about her? Your wife?”

Callum’s eyes softened, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Her name was Amelia,” he said, his voice warm with memory. “We were married for five years.”

“Did you have any children?” Sloane asked, her heart quickening.

“No, we didn’t. We talked about it, and actually…” He faded off, something bitter passing in his eyes. “No. No kids.”

“What did she do for a living?”

“She was a high school drama teacher,” Callum replied. “Always singing show tunes, loudly but not well.”

Sloane chuckled at that. “What did she look like?”

She should probably stop asking questions, but she couldn’t help it.

“Tall, blonde,” he said, gaze distant. “Green eyes that lit up when she laughed.”

Sloane’s stomach twisted. Tall and blonde–the opposite of her petite, dark-haired self. Sloane definitely wasn’t Callum’s type.

“She sounds lovely,” she managed, forcing a smile.

As Callum continued talking, Sloane’s mind wandered. Would he ever consider marrying again? The thought startled her. Why was she even wondering about that? It wasn’t as if she and Callum were involved. Sure, there had been that kiss earlier, but that meant nothing.

She shook her head slightly, trying to focus on Callum’s words instead of her racing thoughts. Romance had no placebetween them. They were just two people thrown together by circumstance, nothing more.

She leaned forward, her curiosity getting the better of her. “What was Amelia like? As a person, I mean.”

“She was…vibrant. Joyous and loud, always filling a room with her laughter.” He smiled, lost in memory. “Amelia had opinions on everything and wasn’t afraid to share them. Bold as brass, that woman.”

Sloane watched, captivated, as Callum continued. “But she was always kind, you know? Had a way of standing up for what she believed in without tearing others down. Didn’t take any shit from anybody, though.”

As he spoke, Sloane felt a weight settling in her chest. She could see how much he had loved Amelia—stillloved her. The woman he described was vibrant, confident, outspoken—everything Sloane wasn’t. There was zero chance Callum would ever be truly attracted to Sloane when she was everything Amelia wasn’t.

“She sounds amazing,” Sloane said softly, forcing herself to meet Callum’s gaze. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did she die?”

Callum’s smile faded. “Pancreatic cancer. Hardest thing I’ve ever been through. I spent my entire life training to face danger and conquer evil, yet nothing prepared me for the one fight I couldn’t win—cancer.”

Sloane’s heart ached for him. Without thinking, she reached out and touched his hand. “I’m so sorry. How long did you have between diagnosis and when she…?”

Immediately, Callum’s expression shuttered. He pulled his hand away, standing abruptly. “We should get cleaned up,” he said, his tone clipped. “It’s late. Probably time to get ready for bed.”

Sloane felt as if she’d been doused with cold water. “Callum, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to?—”

“It’s fine,” he cut her off, not meeting her eyes. “Just… Let’s call it a night, okay? You do whatever you need in the bathroom. I’ll get the dishes cleared.”

As he turned away, she sat frozen, realizing she’d pushed too far and possibly damaged the fragile connection between them.

She slipped into the bathroom, her heart heavy. She leaned against the door, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. The small space smelled of generic soap and bleach—a stark contrast to the musty odor of last night’s cheap motel.

Opening her eyes, she surveyed the room. At least this place had actual toiletries—shampoo, lotion. Her gaze landed on a pair of new toothbrushes still in their packaging. She grabbed one and ripped it open.

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