We’re lying in bed, and it’s as natural as breathing. Like we’ve been doing this for years and could keep doing it for a million more. His body fits against mine like it was made to be here, our breaths syncing without effort.
And maybe that’s why it hits me just how different this is.
With Dillon, I think there were signs long before things went south. His temper would flare over nothing when he drank. Those arguments always ended with me apologizing, even when I wasn’t sure what for. It was never bad enough to realize how easily it could spiral into something worse.
With Callan? The guy doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. Not a single one. I’ve never heard him raise his voice, not even when some drunken idiot sloshed half of his beer all over his jacket. He just laughed it off like it was nothing. It’s sodifferent, so much more peaceful. If Callan were any more patient, he’d qualify for sainthood.
And yet…I’m leaving. We haven’t talked about what this is or what happens after I go. Is he waiting for me to say something? Oh, shit. He probablyis. This sweet, damn near perfect gentleman has been treating me with such care, and instead of questioning why that feels so out of character for him, maybe I should’ve been asking myself why I haven’t been considering more.
Then the doubt fizzles out, and I think… What do I have to lose? What’s the worst that could happen if I go all in?
We couldn’t be in a more vulnerable position if we tried. Skin against skin, limbs tangled in a warm, sleepy knot. The sheets are a mess around us, his fingers idly tracing lazy circles on my arm.
My chest feels tight. Not in the scaryI’m having a heart attackway, but more like what happens when you want to say something big. Something that could change everything.
I don’t know what I’m waiting for.
“Cal?”
His thumb pauses for a second. “Mm?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Always.”
That word lands heavy. It should be reassuring. It almost is.
“What happens when I leave?”
His arm tightens around me. “What do you want to happen?”
“I don’t know…” I whisper.
He shifts beside me, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at me.
“Brianna…”
I freeze. Brianna? My full name? I didn’t think he even knew my full name.
He’s looking at me with amusement and something more…intense. Then his hand moves to tilt my chin, bringing me face-to-face with him.
“You want me to tell you what I want first?”
It’s like he has me hypnotized right now. I couldn’t speak if I tried. All I can do is nod.
He chuckles. “Well, there’s a beautiful, golden-haired, blue-eyed, American lass who happens to have ruined me for anyone else.” He traces a finger down my jawline, eyes crinkling with mischief. “You’ve certainly gotten your money’s worth. I’ve never seen anyone so…enthusiastic.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “Are you actually teasing me about my sexual appetite right now?”
“Absolutely.” His grin is downright wicked. “I think my neighbors might have heard you last night.”
I swat at his chest, mortified but laughing. “You’re terrible! If I recall correctly, you weren’t exactly quiet yourself.”
“True enough.” His laughter rumbles through him, but then his expression shifts, growing more serious. “I wasn’t just talking about the sex, lass. Though that’s been,” he kisses my forehead, “quite remarkable.”
My heart stutters. “What were you talking about, then?”
He takes a deep breath. “I was talking about how I feel when I’m with you. And how I’m not ready for that to end just yet.”
