“Yes.Yeah.Of course.But, um, I don’t think Alicia would mind if you left your belongings stored.”She held the mug with both hands.The heat burned her palms.It was the kind of pain she understood and could control.
All she had to do was set the mug down and the pain would go away.She didn’t.The burning heat made sense.She knew her limit, and she wasn’t there yet.The heat was easier to handle than the possibility that Callum could take off.
Carefully, she blew into the coffee and hid behind the mug.If she gave the mug her complete attention, he wouldn’t be able to get a read on the bonkers thoughts ping-ponging through her sleep-deprived brain.Then again, Callum had never been able to read her thoughts when it came to him.
“What are we going to do today?”She sipped her coffee and studied the light brown liquid in her mug.
“What do you usually do?”
Work was always a safe subject, as long as her version of writer’s block didn’t come back.She eased the mug away from her face.“My days are pretty boring.I usually sketch ideas in the morning.It’s quiet.I like the morning light.”She perched on the edge of the couch next to his pillow and blanket.“I’ve been working on a book cover commissioned by a children’s author—”
Callum reached for her coffee mug and set it on the coffee table.
“Hey—It’s rude to steal someone’s caffeine.”
“Don’t hide behind a mug, and maybe I won’t.”
She made a face but kept quiet.He wasn’t wrong.
“Seems to me,” he said, “you’ve been the queen of avoiding reality.”
“That’s asweepingmischaracterization—” Grace held up her hand when his lips parted.“Nope.Donotmake me defend myself before I’ve had more than a few sips of caffeine.”
His slow smile grew, and his bourbon eyes danced.“There’s the Grace I’ve always known.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”Except she did.Once upon a time, bantering with him had been as natural as breathing.
“Think you do.”He winked and reached for his coffee.“Glad to see the girl I used to know again.”
“I’m still me.Just reserved with you.”
“Why?I’m not the bad guy.”
“No.Actually, I guess I am.”Grace slid onto the couch and snagged the pillow on top of the blanket.She wrapped her arms around it.If she couldn’t have the mug as a shield, the pillow would more than do.“At least between the two of us.”
Her chin dipped—and she caught the faint masculine hint of him.
Callum set down his coffee and sat next to her.“Hey—hey.Come on.”He put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze.“Everything will be okay.”
Her stomach tightened with instant recognition.His scent was startlingly familiar and intoxicating and inherently Callum Hale.It wasn’t cologne or shampoo or even generic man.It was just him.
“You’re not the bad guy, Grace.You’re the…” He pinched his eyes shut, as though he should have caught himself.
“I’m the what?”
He pulled his arm back, shrugging like he didn’t want to say it.“Victim.”
God, she hated that word.Victim was too generic, a catchall for all the wrongs, no matter how big or small.Someone could be a victim of credit card fraud, or they could be a victim of a brutal attack.“I don’t feel that way.”She could tell it made little sense to him.“What you’re forgetting is that I’ve had years to process what happened to me, despite how I’ve chosen to live, and you’re living it like it’s fresh.”
“Okay,” he said quietly.“You’re not a victim.”
“Not anymore.”
He nodded.They sat in silence, though it seemed like he had more to say.Still, Callum didn’t push it.
“I’m still the same person you’ve always known,” she said.“It’s just been hard to share everything with you.I’m angry at Dominic and frustrated with how Hayden brought you in without telling me.”
His face skewed, but he stopped himself from asking whatever was on the tip of his tongue.
