Page 66 of Hero's Heart

“So, your family doesn’t know you’re here? That you left at all?”

“I assume they know by now that I left. But I doubt they care. You know my father wouldn’t even…” She swallowed hard. “He wouldn’t even pay the ransom to the kidnappers to get me back.”

There was no way to fix that. Nothing he could say that would make her understand that William Getty’s actions said nothing except he was a Grade A asshole. “Sloane…”

“If you don’t want me here, I understand. I needed a place to go, and Oak Creek kept coming to my mind. The way you described it has lived rent-free in my mind for weeks. But if you don’t want?—”

“Stop.” He stepped closer, his voice low and steady. “I’m glad you’re here. You did the right thing coming here. Whatever you need, we’ll work it out. Okay?”

The tension in her shoulders eased, and she turned to him, her eyes softening. “Thank you, Callum.”

Without thinking, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. She froze for a moment, then melted into the embrace, her head resting against his chest.

Callum closed his eyes, letting himself savor the quiet connection. She felt small and warm against him, and for the first time in a long while, he felt something stir in the emptiness he’d grown used to. When they pulled back, the moment lingered between them, charged but unspoken.

Clearing his throat, he glanced toward the door. “Why don’t we get out of here for a bit?” he suggested. “Stretch our legs, get some fresh air. I’ll show you around the Oak Creek that is taking up so much of your brain power.”

Her smile widened slightly. “I’d like that very much.”

Callum turned the wheel, the familiar hum of his truck blending with the steady rhythm of the road beneath them. Beside him, Sloane sat quietly, her gaze fixed on the Wyoming landscape outside the window. He decided to take her by Linear Tactical before going into town since Oak Creek had sort of built up around the survival and defense school.

She pressed her hand against the window, her breath fogging the glass as her eyes darted to the sprawling property just off the main road. Linear Tactical’s training facility stood like a sentinel, blending seamlessly with the surrounding wilderness. Callum slowed the truck as they passed, letting her take it all in.

“That’s Linear Tactical,” he said, glancing her way. “Theo Lindstrom runs it now. He was with me in Moldova, remember?”

She nodded. “What do they do here?”

“A mix of things. It started out as part survival school—weapons and self-defense training. In the past few years, it has also expanded to include animal therapy to help people with PTSD.”

She turned to him, eyes serious. “That’s impressive.”

“Zac Mackay, Dr. Annie’s husband, is one of the original founders. He started it with a group of other former SpecialForces soldiers. They’re the kind of people you want in your corner when things go south.”

“You sound like you admire them,” Sloane said softly.

“I do. They’ve done a lot of good for this community. I knew them all before moving here.”

They drove on, into Oak Creek proper. He pointed out the sheriff’s office where he worked and the Frontier Diner, a local favorite. He could tell she remembered it from their talks in Moldova. She asked him questions about the people and some of the other buildings, seeming genuinely interested.

As they continued down Main Street, Callum noticed her clothes again. As much as he liked her sleeping in his T-shirts, if she truly didn’t have anything else to wear, now was the perfect time to get her something.

“You know,” he began casually, “we should stop by the general store. Pick up a few things you might need.”

She hesitated. “Oh, I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” he assured her, already pulling into a parking spot. “Come on.”

Inside, the store was a cozy maze of wooden shelves stocked with everything from flannel shirts to fresh produce. Callum grabbed a basket and started adding items—clothes, toiletries, and other essentials. Sloane trailed behind, her expression growing increasingly anxious.

“Callum, this is too much,” she protested, trying to put a shirt back on the rack.

He gently took it from her and placed it back in the basket. “You need these, Sloane.”

She shook her head, her cheeks flushing. “I can’t afford all this.”

He met her gaze. “Let me take care of it.”

“I can’t let you do that,” she insisted, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re…you’re not responsible for me.”

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