There was no way this would work. Us,dating?We couldn’t even talk about his family without there being issues. I put my hands on the edge of the sink and closed my eyes. Taking deep breaths, I tried to shake the uneasy feeling off. The hurt from that argument, where I’d pushed him too far and he lashed out lingered. And now, even mentioning his dad had me doing the same thing.
How could I protect myself fully if he’d act this way every time his dad was brought up? Could I even mention my parents without him getting upset?
Was this foolish to even entertain the idea of us? How often would the past resurface and hurt us?
Or what if you’re trying to find every possible reason for this not to work?
Someone knocked on the door. “Ivy?”
“Give me a minute.”
“Open up, please.” Callum sounded upset. His voice seemed worried, strained. Hearing the turmoil in his tone caused the weight in my stomach to double.
How could we go from talking about kissing to this? Me hiding in the bathroom trying not to cry? The up and down was like whiplash, and my poor chest ached from the overwhelming feelings.
Unlocking the door, I planned to step out in the hallway, but he pushed his way in and locked it behind him.
“What are you doing?” I asked, breathless. He towered over me in the small bathroom. His height blended in at the stadiumor even in the restaurant with high ceilings, but in here? He was a giant.
“I’m so fucking sorry. I—” He pulled at his hair and stared at the bathroom wall. He seemed to debate with himself before he closed the distance between us and wrapped his arms around me in a suffocating hug. He hoisted me off the ground, buried his head in my shoulder, and embraced me.
Warmth trailed along my neck, then my jaw. Almost like he was kissing me. Tension released from my muscles from his touch, and I felt anchored again. The softness of his shirt and strength of his arms combined with his minty scent, and my stomach did a back handspring.
I dangled in the air, gripping his arms so I wouldn’t fall, and Callum kissed my neck. This was… too much. “Put me down, please.”
“Okay.” He slid me down his body, his eyes squeezed shut. He kept his hands on my hips though. “You’re right. You were right about my dad and the feelings of anger and guilt mixed, and I’m just… I didn’t mean to upset you. And hearing you say all that, fuck, Ivy. I hate that I said that. I hate that you had to run away to the bathroom.”
“Maybe this is a bad idea?” I whispered, not detailing whatthisreferred to.
“It’s not.” He ran his hand up my side, onto my shoulder and gently grazed his thumb over my collarbone. He breathed hard, his eyes more focused, more intense than I had ever seen off the field. “I have some unresolved dad issues, which I’ll work on, but I can’t have you pulling away from me. I let my father’s action affect me in a really fucked up way that summer, and I refuse to let him get between us again. I’ll give you all the space you need, sure. But I won’t survive if you shut me out. I just got back in, and you’re… I feel like I’m home when I’m with you.”
Without meaning to, I nodded. I knew exactly how he felt, but that scared me. When I was around him, nothing else mattered. I didn’t think about my internship or what Esme thought of this or who was even sitting around us. All I saw was him and his smile. The all-encompassing obsession with him was terrifying.
Can you survive another heartbreak?
“Come back to dinner with me?”
God, the look on his face was enough to have my knees buckling. He stared at my face without blinking, wide eyes and a worried wrinkle between his brows, which combined with the constant flexing of his jaw. He was worried.
I placed my hand over his, the one on my shoulder, and his expression softened at my touch. How did I, Ivy Emerson, have the power to unravel Callum? Fascinating.
One thing Callum taught me years ago was the power of owning up to your part. I think it had to do with having three sisters, but he was quick to apologize (minus our three-year fight), and despite the out-of-control worry in my gut, there was a blip of guilt.
“I’m allowed to push back on you when I think you’re in the wrong. I’m always going to do that,” I said, swallowing.
“Ineedyou to. I’ll handle it better next time.” He rushed the words out.
“But you also need to call me on my shit when I mention the past. We discussed it a lot, and it needs to stay there. Your tone made me defensive, and I instantly brought it up. I’m sorry for that.”
“I still can’t believe I hurt you,” he whispered, resting his forehead on mine. His breath hit my face, and I swore his body vibrated. “I always want you on my team, and I’m sorry you doubted that for a second.”
Relief flooded my veins. I’d wanted to hear those words for years, and a pang deep in my chest loosened.
“Another thing we need to figure out,” I said, causing him to stand up straight and focus on me. He reminded me of the time we took calculus together. He’d sit in the front row to gain all the knowledge he could. He looked like that now, with me. “You know I need distance sometimes, like me running in here. Usually, back then, you’d be my comfort person, but I might need distance from you for a bit, and I need you to let me.”
His jaw tightened. “Why can’t I be your person still?”
“I need time to adjust my thoughts to you. If you’re always there, then how can I think?” I played with the hem of my dress, my nervous energy needing a release.
