The tears that have been threatening to spill for two days press against my eyelids, ready to make their grand entrance. I try to blink them away, but they’re relentless. I can’t stop them. “We have a lot of history. It’s complicated.”
I’m not sure if he even realizes it, but his thumb is stilltracing slow, soothing circles on my wrist. He’s grounding me, offering steadiness in the chaos. His words are laced with that raw, protective fire, and it makes everything inside me tremble.
“There’s nothing complicated about it. He hurt you, plain and simple. He’s lucky he’s thousands of miles away, or else I’d be tracking the bastard down and showing him what it’s like to be on the receiving end.”
The anger in his eyes slices through the comfort he’s trying to offer, like a knife cutting through butter. Only the butter’s me.
“Where else did he hurt you?”
I swallow hard, the lump in my throat as heavy as a stone. How much do I even say? Will it really change anything? What does it matter? The mess is already made, and the pieces are scattered all over the place.
His voice drops, firmer now. “Bree. Where else did he hurt you?”
And just like that, my resolve breaks. The tears I’ve been holding back fall one after another. I didn’t realize how much I needed to let this out, how much I needed someone to know. It’s both terrifying and a relief at the same time.
“My leg,” I say as I try to catch my breath between sobs. “I-I fell. After he grabbed me.”
He shuts his eyes as he takes a slow, steadying breath. His nostrils flare as if he’s trying to hold back some wave of anger. When he opens his eyes again, his voice comes out calmer. “Show me.”
I carefully lift the hem of my dress over my thigh, trying to keep some semblance of modesty. He kneels beside me, his eyes drawn to my leg like a magnet. The sharp intake of his breath cuts through the air.
“Christ,” he mutters under his breath. “Bree, that looks terrible.”
The sympathy in his eyes crashes over everything I’ve tried to hold back. He’s too kind. Tooreal.
His gaze lifts to mine. “How bad does that hurt?”
“A lot, actually,” I admit. “Only when I touch it, though. It’s fine otherwise.”
He gently pulls the skirt of my dress back down over my thigh before he stands. When he speaks, his voice is soft but firm. “What he did was inexcusable, no matter the circumstances. I won’t say anything to anyone if you don’t want me to but don’t do this alone. You can talk to me, aye?”
I nod because the lump in my throat is too tight for anything else. His kindness hits me harder than I expected, and I feel a rush of emotions I wasn’t prepared for. I’ve never let myself lean on anyone, and I didn’t think it would be Callan when I did. But this side of him… It’s stirring something inside me that I’m not ready to face, let alone admit.
“Thank you,” I finally manage to whisper.
He reaches out, his hand hovering for a moment like he’s asking permission, before gently wiping away the tear that escaped down my cheek. “You don’t have to thank me, Sunshine,” he says. “That’s what friends are for, right?”
Friends. Right. It’s just…now I’m getting all sentimental, and this is veering way too close to Hallmark movie territory for my liking. I need flirty Callan back. The one who makes me roll my eyes and laugh, not this sweet, gentle version that’s messing with my head. Time to reel it back in before my heart gets any more confused.
“Friends, huh? So, I can count on you to bring me ice cream at three in the morning if I ask?”
He smirks, that mischievous glint sparking back to life in his eyes. “I’ll bring the ice cream…but only if you promise not to cry over rom-coms again.”
A laugh bubbles up as I recall the time Jules got wasted inEdinburgh and Knox had to babysit her while Callan got tasked with bringing me back to my hotel room. We ended up hanging out for a while, and there were indeed rom-coms and tears involved.
“Deal. But you’re really going to judge me for having emotions?”
“Never.” He grins. “Your emotions are safe with me, Sunshine.”
When he dropsme back at Rose’s, I thank him for the ride, my fingers brushing against his as I hand his helmet and jacket back to him.
He says it again. “You can talk to me, Bree.”
I nod, but I don’twantto talk about it.
His gaze settles on me, open in a way that leaves no room for doubt. “I won’t tell anyone.”
I leave it at that. It’s easier to walk away than let him see how much I want to believe him.
