Page 26 of Matthew
Matthew joined her on the bench, close but not crowding her. He handed her a bottle of water without saying anything. He must’ve snagged two from the employee fridge.
She took it, grateful for the gesture. Her hands were steadier than she expected, but tension still buzzed beneath her skin, coiled tightly. She cracked the seal and took a sip. Cool, clean, but it didn’t wash the unease from her tongue.
He downed half his water, and the silence stretched between them.
She rested the bottle against her thigh, the condensation dampening her jeans. A breeze lifted a loose strand of hair against her cheek, but she didn’t brush it away. Her gaze hadlocked on the gravel lot across the way, even though the truck was long gone.
“They were on my land,” she murmured.
Matthew didn’t ask who she meant, he just waited.
She blinked and let out a slow breath. “They stepped onto my property, uninvited. Messed with my surveillance. Tried to leave something that shouldn’t be here. Then drove off like it didn’t matter.”
He downed half his water then lowered his bottle. “That kind of thing sticks with you.”
She nodded once. “It’s not the truck, it’s the intent. Whoever did this…they watched us. They knew our schedule. They waited for a gap and filled it like they belonged. That’s what’s getting to me.”
Silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full.
Then Matthew spoke, his voice low and steady. “Used to see it on ops. The worst ones weren’t loud. They blended in. Came dressed like routine.”
Callie’s mouth quirked, but it wasn’t a smile. “That’s how this felt. Not loud. Just…wrong. Wrong enough that I can’t stop thinking about it.”
He didn’t offer hollow reassurance. He didn’t tell her it would be fine.
Instead, he said, “It’s smart to listen to that.”
She turned her head, and their gazes met and held. There was something steadying in the way he looked at her, like she could lean into that strength if she wanted. The moment didn’t spark or burn. It settled deeply, like roots finding purchase in solid ground.
She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed that.
After another sip of water, she finally let her shoulders relax. “Carter’s running the plate. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
Matthew nodded. “And if we don’t, we dig deeper.”
Another beat of quiet passed, but this time it felt different.
She wasn’t calm, not exactly. But she was no longer coiled so tightly she couldn’t breathe. Sammy must’ve sensed it because he curled up by her feet and closed his eyes.
“Thanks for the recon,” she said, glancing sidelong at Matthew.
He gave her a small smile. “Anytime.”
The breeze stirred the baskets overhead, sending a few loose petals skittering across the flagstones. Callie rolled the bottle of water between her palms, watching as Rosie and Nate finished stacking soil bags by the tunnel. Routine moving forward like nothing had happened. That should’ve been a good thing.
Matthew sat quietly beside her, not filling the space with words, but letting it breathe.
He glanced toward the greenhouse. “You’ve built something solid here.”
She huffed out a breath, not quite a laugh. “That’s the hope.”
“You’ve got eyes on everything. Your crew listens to you. No panic back there.”
“It’s not just mine,” she said, still watching the fluttering shade cloth along the tunnel line. “My grandfather started this place, and my dad helped him build it before my grandfather passed. I worked alongside both and learned more than I could ever explain. After my dad died, I kept it going. My sister handles the books and jumps in when I’m buried in invoices. This place was built on Morgan blood, sweat, and tears.”
Matthew didn’t respond right away, but she could feel his attention settle on her, measured, respectful, nothing intrusive. The kind of silence that didn’t demand anything, only held space.
Finally, he said, “It shows.”
