My sobs became fewer with time, but I didn’t let him go. I couldn’t. My fingers were still tangled in the fabric of his shirt. Despite the world keeping on spinning around us, we stayed there under the night sky, locked in our own small bubble.
Callan pulled back slightly, putting enough space between us to look at me. He reached up with both hands to cup my face, his palms pressing against either side of my jaw. His eyes took me in closely, and I could see the same worry in his gaze that I felt in my own heart. I could see that he hated seeing me like this, that the sight of my pain was a physical blow to him. He must’ve been worried sick because I hadn’t had my phone on me, and I didn’t want to think about how many places he went to look for me before he came here.
But that thought was quickly proven wrong when he said, “I came here the second the police took your mother away.”
My mind didn’t stay on the police part. The words about my mother’s arrest were too big to process in that moment. Instead, my mind got stuck on him saying that he came here immediately. He knew I had been here. He knew me well enough to know that this was the place I ran off to when the world became too much. Of all the places in the city I could have gone, he knew.
“She’s gone, Lana,” he told me, his thumbs brushing soothingly over my cheekbones. “The police took her away and I told them everything. She won’t hurt you again. Never again.”
My mind needed a moment to follow what he was saying. I had no idea what had happened after I ran from the house, but with the memory of my mother’s rage still fresh and raw, I knew it couldn’t have been good. The image of her being led away inhandcuffs was one I couldn’t quite form, but his words began to sink in.
“Let me take you home,” he begged, his voice cracking slightly on the last word. He looked pained when he said the words, as if he knew what a monumental ask it was. “I know it’s hard for you. I know that my home hasn’t ever felt like a home to you. But I promise you that from now on, nothing, and no one will ever hurt you there. Please…I love you, Lana. Come home with me, Lana.”
I heard the words he was saying, even the ones I thought I’d ever hear from him, but nothing really made sense in that moment, so I may have misheard him. As he spoke, my gaze drifted upward. And that’s when I saw the three cuts etched into the skin of his temple. They were fresh, the skin around them still slightly raised. They weren’t deep, but they were there. My breath hitched at the idea that my mother had done that to him. Had she fought him?
The sight of those scratches shattered something inside me. It wasn’t just about me anymore. It was about him, too, and the fact that he had stood between me and her rage and had taken the blows meant for me. He had bled for me, and now he was here.
My fear suddenly seemed selfish. He was asking me to come home not just for my safety, but for his own peace of mind. He needed to know I was safe as much as I needed to be safe.
I reached up slowly, my fingers trembling as I gently traced the line of the scratches with my fingertip. He flinched slightly but didn’t pull away. I looked from the marks on his skin back to his pleading eyes. The fight went out of me, and all the resistance evaporated.
I gave a slow nod as I whispered, “Okay, take me home.”
39
Callan
She reached for my hand as we walked toward the front door, and I felt the shift in her immediately. Every step made her slower. Her grip tightened around my fingers until it almost hurt, and when we were only a few feet away, she stopped completely. Her eyes were locked on the door, her gaze wide and horrified. She looked like she expected someone to burst through it at any second.
The sight gutted me. She had been holding it together by a thread for so long. Everything that happened tonight was heavy, and the weight of it pressed down hard. I turned to face her, keeping one hand linked with hers while I lifted my other hand to her cheek. She leaned into my touch slightly.
“No one’s in there,” I said quietly, trying to give her something solid to hold onto. “I’ll take you straight to your bedroom. Just you and me in your room where you can breathe and rest.” I slid my thumb along her cheekbone, wanting her to know I meant every word. “I’m not leaving you. Not tonight. Not any night.”
She stared at me, her eyes drowning in fear and exhaustion. Her voice was small when she said, “You promised me that before.”
“I know,” I said fast, unable to sugarcoat it. “I know I did. And I know I failed you tonight. I hate that I put you through this, and I hate that I’m asking you to trust me again. But I will keep you safe now. From this point on, I won’t let anything touch you.”
Her eyes filled with tears again. She had been crying all evening, and I didn’t want her to hide any of it. She had every right to feel everything she was feeling.
I leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to her forehead, keeping my hand on her cheek so she wouldn’t pull away. “Let me take you upstairs,” I whispered against her skin before kissing her once more.
She sucked in a shaky breath as her gaze flicked between me and the door. She was preparing herself. To overcome something that should’ve felt easy.
“Okay,” she finally said, pressing her lips together tightly. She squeezed my hand again, silently begging me not to let go, and giving me the permission to guide her forward.
“I’m right here,” I assured her as I led her inside.
I felt her go rigid beside me as we stepped forward into the foyer. Her eyes were fixed on the kitchen, staring at the chaos her mother had left behind. I saw her swallow hard, her face paling as she took in the scene. Her gaze flickered around the messy kitchen, taking in the shattered glass on the floor and the open cabinets. I could see the fear returning, and the realization that it had been her mother doing all that.
I pulled her toward the stairs, blocking her from the destruction.
“She did this—”
“I’ll take care of it tomorrow,” I said quickly, and without giving her another chance to look back, I led her upstairs and to her room. When we got there, I let go of her hand only for a moment to pull back the duvet and fluff the pillows, trying tomake the space as inviting and safe as possible. She stood in the middle of the room, watching me, with her arms wrapped around herself in a self-protective hug.
I walked back to her and gently uncrossed her arms to take her hand again. “Come on.”
I led her to the bed and she sat down on the edge, her body slumped with fatigue. I knelt in front of her and untied the laces of her shoes, slipping them off her feet and setting them aside. Then I stood and took off her jacket, throwing it over the chair before I guided her to lie down. I pulled the covers up over her, and she moved without protest, letting me tuck her in.
