Chasing the Sun – Bonus Scene

Cal – 15 years later  

Our two-story farmhouse was quiet in that rare, sacred way it only ever was after a big event—when the lights had dimmed, the last sparkler had fizzled out, and the stories were still hanging in the air, not yet packed away with the folding chairs and flower crates.

We’d just thrown the biggest wedding Star Harbor had seen in a decade. And not for just anyone.

Levi.

My boy.

He’d gotten married under the same crooked old oak tree where Stan had taken him under his wing. Same breeze, same orchard, same soft light slanting gold across the pumpkin fields. Different people, different season, but still—it felt like time folded in on itself a little today. Like the past and the future were holding hands, letting us all rest for a minute in the now.

The farmhouse creaked gently as I moved through it, barefoot and sore in all the ways that felt earned. I’d been on my feet for twelve hours—making sure the ceremony went off without a hitch, pouring cider, fixing the damn string lights that kept shorting out on the east side of the barn. But the second I saw Levi standing at the end of the aisle—face open and heart on full display—I forgot all about the sweat and the nerves.

He looked just like the man I’d hoped he’d become.

Steady. Brave. Loved.

And oh, yeah—I’d cried. Elodie had too. Her eyeliner survived exactly nine minutes.

I found her now in our bedroom, already out of her dress and curled up in one of my flannels, legs bare and tucked beneath her, a mug of decaf tea resting against her thigh. Her curls were a mess, and her mascara had smudged just slightly beneath her eyes. She looked like she’d stayed up too late laughing. She looked like she belonged to me.

And she did. Still. After all these years.

“Hey, Mrs. Blackwood,” I murmured, crossing the room to press a kiss to her temple. “You’re still awake?”

Her eyes opened lazily, that half-lidded look that still punched a hole through my ribs. “Barely.” She set her mug aside and stretched her arms. “But I knew you would smell like woodsmoke and whiskey after your post-wedding celebration with the guys. I didn’t want to miss that combination.”

I chuckled, toeing off my socks and sliding into bed beside her. “Romantic.”

She sighed, leaning into me. “Tragically so.”

We sat in comfortable silence for a beat. Then she leaned into me, her head resting on my shoulder, fingers curling around my bicep like she always did when she needed to anchor herself.

“I kept thinking about Mary today,” she whispered.

I nodded. “Me too.”

We had honored Levi’s mom with a row of her favorite white wildflowers tucked into the arbor. It wasn’t loud or flashy. Just… honest. Quiet. A moment between mother and son that transcended time.

“She would’ve been so proud of him,” I said.

“I think she is proud of him,” Elodie corrected, her voice soft but certain. “I can feel her in the air here and Levi is everything we hoped he’d be.”

We let that sit for a moment.

Then she twisted, facing me fully, her bare legs tangling with mine beneath the covers. “Do you remember,” she said slowly, “that one time you made me dinner and it was terrible? It was chicken pot pie, right?”

I groaned. “I’ve worked hard to forget that one.”

She laughed, head tipped back. “The carrots were almost raw. The sauce was thick and pasty.”

My eyes narrowed at her teasing. “And you still kissed me afterward. That shows questionable judgment.”

“You looked hot in an apron.” Ellie shrugged. “I was distracted.”

I rolled on top of her in one fluid motion, bracing my weight on one elbow. “Is that right?”

Her breath hitched, pupils darkening. “Very.”

I kissed her without rushing—slow and deep and reverent, like a man who knew exactly what he had, and still couldn’t believe he got to keep it. Her hands slid up my chest, fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer.

“I had something planned for you,” I murmured against her skin.

“Oh?” she asked, breathless already.

I nodded. “A gift.”

She stifled a giggle. “Cal…”

“Not that kind of gift.” My lips curved. “Well… not only that kind.”

I rolled off her, reaching into the drawer beside the bed and pulling out a small, wrapped package. 

She sat up, blinking at it like I’d just offered her the moon. “Cal, we said no gifts.”

“We also said ‘I do,’ and look how well that’s working out.”

She narrowed her eyes, but her lips curved. “You’re lucky you’re so charming.”

I dipped my chin toward the package. “Just unwrap it, Darling.”

She did—slowly, deliberately, tearing the kraft paper back to reveal a leather-bound journal. On the front, stamped in gold leaf, were the words:

Star Harbor, Year Fifteen: Notes from the Dream.

Inside were entries. Dozens of them. Some written by me, some by our team, a few even by Levi. Snapshots of the last year—harvest notes, recipes from the restaurant, guest messages from the inn. Every corner of this life we’d built, stitched together like a quilt.

Elodie’s hand flew to her mouth. “You made this?”

“We all made it,” I said. “But yeah. I kept notes. Saved emails. Took pictures. We had a great year and I guess I thought… someday, we might want to remember how it all felt.”

She blinked rapidly, trying and failing not to cry. “You are such a damn softie.”

“I’m a secret romantic,” I corrected. “Don’t lump me in with those Hallmark-card amateurs. And don’t go telling anyone either.”

She launched herself into my lap, journal clutched to her chest, and kissed me like the world had stopped spinning.

And it did, at least, for a moment.

Later, when our bedroom fireplace had burned low and the moon had crept across the orchard, we laid tangled in the aftermath of everything we’d built. Her head on my chest, fingers tracing lazy circles over my ribs.

“I used to think life meant running after something,” she said quietly. “The next big thing.”

I breathed her in. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “Chasing the dream. Hoping I was fast enough to catch it. Hoping the grumpy innkeeper would turn around and see who was right next door making faces at his back.”

I chuckled, a low rumble in my chest. “And now?”

She smiled. Pressed her lips to my skin. “Now I know that real love is someone building a life worth running to. I’m so proud that Levi found his someone.”

My throat burned, but I didn’t speak. Just kissed her again. Slower this time. Deeper.

Because it was her.

It had always been her.

The girl in the pumpkin patch. The woman who turned chaos into comfort. The one who never stopped believing that ghosts could find peace and broken things could bloom again.

Elodie was my sun.

And after all these years, I was still chasing her.

Only now? She let me catch her every damn day.