“Don’t let them trick you into paying extra for leg room,” Callan says, his voice light and teasing. “Just take up yoga and learn to fold yourself like origami.”
I steal a glance at him, catching the moment his easy smile falters. It’s subtle, but it’s enough for me to notice. He’s doing what he always does by throwing out jokes and trying to keep things upbeat. His laugh comes quick, but it’s strained and not as genuine as usual. Today, the mask isn’t working. He’s just as scared as I am.
It almost makes me angry because I don’t want him to deflect. I need him to stop pretending this is just another ordinary goodbye. I want him to say something real. Part of me wishes he’d tell me not to leave and give me a reason to stay.
But this is who he is, and it’s one of the things I love about him. Maybe it’s easier for him than it is for me. Maybe he’s already made peace with it, while I’m wondering how the hell I’m going to manage walking away.
My heart’s screaming to stay, even though logic says I can’t.
My mind flashes back to life before him. Dillon’ssuffocating control, the constant fear gnawing at my insides, the nights spent convincing myself I deserved better but never believing it. And then Callan happened. Everything about him was the antidote to the poison Dillon left behind. He made me feel free. He made me feel…alive again.
Now, I’m being asked to walk away from all of it.
It’s a cruel twist of fate, really.
So, no. I can’t be angry with him for trying to make light of all this. I get it. This is how he holds it together. I guess I’ve been retreating into my own head for the same reason. Even as I try to justify it, my chest tightens with the realization that he’s the reason I started believing I deserved better. Not just better than Dillon, but better than the life I’ve been living where I was too scared to take or feel anything too deeply.
Now, as I watch him with his hands tight on the steering wheel, throwing out jokes like it’s second nature, I can’t help but wonder if he’s just as fragile as I am. He’s holding it all in behind those words that don’t quite reach his eyes. Maybe he’s just as scared of what comes next.
“Callan…”
“Yeah?”
I want to tell him that I’m terrified to go back and he’s the only thing that’s ever felt like home, but the words are stuck in my throat. If I say them out loud, I’m pretty sure it’ll only make this harder for both of us. I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of emotional whiplash.
So instead, I force a smile. It’s small, shaky, and probably about as convincing as a toddler pretending to be a dinosaur. I quickly look away, hoping he won’t notice the way my heart’s on the verge of shattering. “Nothing,” I mumble.
Real smooth.
He doesn’t let it slide. “No. That’s not nothing. You’re not going to just leave without saying what’s on your mind.”
I don’t have to look at him to know his eyes are fixed on me. The pressure makes the words spill out before I can stop them. “I’m scared, okay?” I admit, my voice trembling. “Scared of going back. Scared of everything being the same. Of everything falling apart again. And scared of whatever,” I gesture vaguely between us, “this is.”
There’s nothing but the sound of our breaths filling the silence before I continue. “I don’t know how to leave and not feel like I’m making the biggest mistake of my life, but I also don’t know how to stay. I can’t just exist in this…in-between.”
He’s frozen for a moment, and then his expression shifts into shock. His lips part, but no words come. His eyes flicker between me and the road with emotions flashing too quickly for me to catch.
“I didn’t know you felt that way,” he finally says. His gaze isn’t the usual playful, teasing spark I’m used to. And that uncertainty in his eyes? It makes the hole in my chest feel a hell of a lot bigger. I didn’t mean to hurt him, but somehow, I’ve done exactly that.
“I didn’t know how to tell you,” I admit. “You seem so…at ease with all of this, and I’m just…” I trail off, the words slipping through my fingers. I close my eyes for a moment, trying to control my breath. “I don’t know what to say, Cal. I’m afraid.”
The truck suddenly feels too small. I’m too nervous to look him in the eyes, but I catch his hand rubbing over his face out of the corner of my eyes.
“You should’ve told me.” His voice is firm, and the words land with more force than I’m ready for. I want to argue and tell him that I didn’t know how, or that I wasn’t ready to expose myself like this, but he’s right. And it stings.
“I know I should have,” I say, determined to keep my voice steady. “But it’s not that simple. You’re always so unbothered. It’s weird to talk about…sad stuff with you.”
His grip on the steering wheel flexes, knuckles paling as his lips press into a hard line. A muscle tics in his jaw, his eyes locked straight ahead while frustration radiates off him in waves.
“That hurts, Bree.” His voice is quieter now, but there’s no mistaking the strain in it. “I just told you it would kill me to see you with anyone else, for Christ’s sake, and you don’t trust me enough to besadaround me?”
The guilt hits me immediately. The last thing I ever wanted was to make him feel like I don’t trust him or like he’s not enough.
“That’s…not what I meant,” I manage, but even I can hear how weak it sounds.
“Then what did you mean? Because right now, it sounds a hell of a lot like you’re saying I’m not the guy you can turn to when you’re hurting.”
I messed up, and now I need to fix it. I need him to understand.
