“I've been on my own for a long time,” she murmurs. “It's for the best.”
She doesn’t say more than that, and I know better than to ask unwanted questions. Callie is a closed book, and she’s not ready for me to know her story.
“Want to watch a movie?” I ask, hoping, beyond reason, to prolong the evening.
That small smile blooms across her face, and some of the tension dissipates. “That depends on the movie. I have a few deal breakers, you know.”
I toss her the remote. “You pick. I wouldn’t want to throw up red flags this early in our friendship.”
She casually scrolls through the catalogue for several minutes. “Princess Bride?”
“As you wish.”
Halfway through the epic duel, I glance over to find Callie fast asleep with her hands tucked beneath her chin. Her long lashes flutter against her cheeks, and her mouth pulls into a slight frown.
“What are you dreaming about, Bluebird?”
I want to reach out and smooth the hair away from her face, press a kiss to her forehead, and pull her into my arms while she sleeps. I want to be the man who eases her worries, awake and in dreams. Maybe someday I'll have the privilege.
For now, I tuck the blanket around her, turn off the television, and reluctantly head down the hallway to my empty bed, where I lie awake for hours until my body is too tired to fight the inevitable.
Callie
I wake up alone on the couch with a soft blanket draped over me. Bringing the fabric to my nose, I take a long inhale. It smells like him. I can almost imagine what it would be like to wake up in his arms.
The sun peeks in through a crack in the curtains as I stretch my aching limbs. I linger for a moment, listening for any sign of movement.
All is quiet.
With the blanket wrapped around my shoulders, I tiptoe through the house, glancing into each room in search of Atticus. He’s nowhere to be found. I open Jaxon’s door just a crack, and the cat slips through, his bell jingling as he stretches at my feet. He ignores me and saunters past into the kitchen, mewling for breakfast.
“Grumpy kitty. I suppose you’re waiting for breakfast, huh?”
I fill his dish with dry food, and he mewls again, more forcefully this time. I throw my head back and groan, but he knows he has me. Metal scrapes against metal as I peel open the can of salmon mousse. His bell jingles again as he hops onto the counter, his fluffy tail flicking dramatically.
He bumps against my hand that’s still holding the lid, and a loud purr rumbles out of him. I add the salmon to the top of the dry kibble, and it’s like I cease to exist. He only has eyes for his food. I set the dish on the floor and head to the bedroom to prepare for work.
An hour later, as I'm hopping into my shoe, I hear thedistinct rumble of a truck’s engine. I give Atticus a scratch behind the ears and set off down the driveway.
Jaxon’s head pokes out of his truck window. “Morning, sleepyhead.”
As I slide into the passenger seat, he holds out a to-go cup. “Coffee?”
“Oh my god. I could kiss you.”
He gives me a crooked grin and offers me his cheek.
I respond with a cutting glance and bring the hot liquid to my lips. “I didn’t mean that literally.”
“Your loss.”
He puts the truck in drive and navigates the familiar path to Willow Valley. His fingers drum along to the radio against the steering wheel, drawing my attention to his hands. They’re large and calloused, with pronounced veins charting a path like a roadmap across his skin.
He wears a ring on the first and fourth fingers of his right hand, and the first, third, and fifth fingers of his left hand. I briefly imagine what it’d be like to have those hands on me, the cool metal scraping across my naked flesh. The things I’d let him do to me.
I’m no better than a man.
The song changes to an older country tune, and the drumming abruptly stops. He switches off the radio and stares straight ahead, his eyes open and unseeing. It’s the haunted look of someone stuck in the past.
