My fingers tighten around the mug. “I would never hurt her. I’d never take something good from her, not if it wastruly good. But I have to see for myself. I have to know what her life is like now.”
Tina doesn’t speak right away. She just watches me, her expression softening.
“I love her more than anything in this world,” I whisper. “And I still believe... deep down... that where she truly belongs, where she’d be happiest, is with me.”
Chapter 4
Cal
“So what’s at stake this time?” Elle asks, picking up her pace a half mile from the bench.
“You said it!” I shout, taking off after her. “A grilled porterhouse, medium rare, with vegetables and a baked potato.”
She beats me. Again.
I can’t even be mad. I just smile, thinking about the steaks already marinating in the fridge.
“Can I tell you what’ll be at stake the day I actually beat you to the finish line?” I ask, still catching my breath, figuringnothing ventured, nothing gained.
“What?” she says, grinning, still basking in her win.
“A kiss,” I say, meeting her eyes. Searching her face for any sign, any flicker, that she feels what I’ve been feeling for weeks now.
“Cal, I—” she starts, then stops, the rest of the sentence catching somewhere behind her lips.
She’s searching for the right words, I can see that much.
But from the way her expression shifts—soft, apologetic—I know exactly what kind of words they are.
The kind meant to let me down easy.
"Have I been imagining the attraction between us?" I ask, not bothering to sugarcoat it.
"It's not that," she says, eyes darting away.
"Then what is it?" I press, reaching for her arm, letting my fingers rest lightly against her skin.
She exhales. “My life is complicated right now. I’m working on something... something personal. It’s either going to be the best thing that’s ever happened to me, or the thing that breaks me.”
She looks at me then, really looks. “And if it breaks me, I don’t want you caught in the wreckage.”
“What is it, Elle?” I ask gently. “Why can’t you just tell me?”
“My life is a mess, Cal,” she murmurs. “I’m not worth the hassle. Trust me.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” I say, my voice low but certain. “We’ve been running together for weeks. Breakfasts, dinners, drinks. Time with Hannah. Time just us. This—” I motion between us “—this stopped being casual a long time ago for me.”
I pause, making sure she hears every word.
“I like you, Elle. And I think you like me too.”
“I do,” she says, nodding, unable to hide a shy.
“Then I’ll wait,” I tell her. “I’ll wait as long as it takes for you to trust me enough to tell me your story.”
She looks up at me, eyes searching. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I think you’re beautiful,” I say without hesitation. “You make me laugh. You’re witty, sharp, thoughtful. I can talk to you for hours—and we have.”
