His grip on my hand tightens. “You don’t owe him anything,” he says. “Not after everything he did.”
“Maybe not,” I reply softly. “I do think I owe it to myself to hear him out, though.”
The air between us is fragile, stretched thin by words we haven’t said. His eyes flicker with something raw, a battle waging just beneath the surface. Between his instinct to protect me and the trust he’s trying to give. He exhales slowly, his shoulders loosening by a fraction, but the tension in his jaw remains, a telltale sign of the fight he’s not really winning.
“If that’s what you want,” he says quieter, but no less firm. His gaze holds mine, unshakable. “But you’re not doing it alone.”
A bittersweet smile tugs at my lips. I love him for saying it, but I know I can’t let him follow through. I love the way he just steps in with no hesitation, like shielding me from the world is second nature to him. It’s in the solid focus of his eyes, how they stay fixed on me as if to memorize every shift in my expression, and in the way his hand remains firmly around mine, like holding on tightly enough could block out everything else.
And yet, this isn’t a battle he can fightfor me.
“I know you’re worried,” I say, my voice firm. “But I don’t think this is something you should be there for. I’ll make sure I meet him somewhere public, like for coffee or something.”
His lips part like he wants to argue, but he catches himself, the words dying before they make it out. Instead, he leans back slightly, his thumb still brushing gently over my knuckles. “I don’t like it,” he admits. “But I’ll respect it.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’ll be okay. I don’t want to spend our last day thinking about…him.”
His gaze softens, the sharp edges of his worry easing enough to let a breath of warmth slip through. He exhales slowly, nodding. “Aye. Last day, no distractions.” He tries for a smile, but it’s tinged with that sadness we’ve been dancing around all morning.
Determined to shift the mood, I flash him a teasing grin. “You know, I’ve been thinking that maybe I should start a list of all the things I need to do before you leave. Top of the list? Learn how to survive without your amazing cooking.”
His brow arches. “You’ll manage,” he quips. “Though you’ll miss me before you miss the cooking.”
I scoff, giving him an exaggerated once-over. “Debatable.”
That smile of his spreads across his face, the kind that starts in his eyes and takes its time reaching his lips. He’s looking at me like I’ve just said something profound instead of making a bad joke about his cooking.
“What?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious.
“You know,” he says, his voice dropping to that intimate register that makes my spine tingle, “I can’t wait for you to visit again. Having you wake up inmybed. The way the light hits the hills at dawn—it’ll be the first thing you see every morning.”
“And at night,” he continues, “you’ll fall asleep to the sound of the wind through the trees, wrapped up in my arms, knowing you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.”
Is hetryingto make me cry? Because mission accomplished. Here I was, trying to make a joke about food, but now I’m blinking furiously, trying to keep my emotions from spilling all over the place. I can’t even be mad about it. I know goodbye is lurking just around the corner.
I sniff, tilting my head back. No tears. No crying over his disgustingly sweet, perfect, life-ruining words.
Then he squeezes my hand, and damn it, a tear escapes.
I groan. “You’re making it real hard to argue with you, you know that?”
“Good,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “Because I don’t plan on giving you a single reason to change your mind.”
I’m so over airports.They’re soulless with nothing but bright lights and endless rows of uncomfortable chairs that are designed to drain the life out of you. Normally, it’s the sadness that gets me. Goodbyes in general are never easy. I’m not the one leaving. I’m the one being left behind. I didn’t realize how much harder that would be.
Every step Callan takes toward those automatic doors feels like someone wringing the air out of my lungs. I thought I’d be okay. I told myself I could handle this, but just imagining the moment he disappears has me crumbling.
We kept the goodbye short. It’s not forever after all. It’s not really goodbye. I’ll be with him before I know it… I just don’t knowwhenthat will be. I told myself I wouldn’t cry, that I’d hold it together so he wouldn’t see me falling apart.
When he steps through the doors, my composure falls apart. The tears spill over before I can stop them, my lip trembling as I bite down hard, blinking furiously in a uselessattempt to keep it together. My hands swipe at my cheeks, but it’s a losing battle. Let those bitches fall.
He turns back, his eyes catching mine through the glass, and he notices. Before I can process it, he’s striding back. By the time he reaches me, I’m a full-on mess. The sight of him rushing to me makes the tears flow even harder.
“Hey,” he murmurs, his hands gently cradling my face, his thumbs brushing away the tears as if they can fix the heartbreak. “None of this. You know I can’t leave unless I know you’re okay.”
And then, just like that, his teasing grin breaks through, the one that always makes my heart trip over itself. “And also, I owe you an ‘I told you so.’ Iknewyou’d miss me bad.”
A laugh bubbles out of me, shaky and choked with tears, but it’s there. I swat at his arm, shaking my head. “You’re insufferable, truly.”
