I can’t find the words to explain as I shove my phone into my bag. “I just… I have to go.”
Before he can say anything else, I’m already on the move, brushing past him with my heart racing like it’s about to burst out of my chest. I fling the door open and step outside, gulping in the air like I’ve just come up for breath after a deep dive.
Callan.
He’s all I can think about. Getting to him. Seeing him. Holding him.
“He’s fine,” I whisper under my breath, the words looping in my head like a desperate prayer.He has to be fine.
Except doubt is merciless. What if he’s not okay? What if…
No.I can’t go there. I won’t let myself.
I fumble with my phone, hands trembling so badly I can barely see the screen through the blur of unshed tears. I need to book a flight.
My fingers move on autopilot, swiping and searching for the fastest route. Everything is too slow and too complicated. There are too many steps between me and him.
“Bree!” Dillon’s voice catches up to me, and then his hand is on my arm, turning me toward him. “What happened? Talk to me.”
I blink at him, trying to focus. His face swims in my vision, and I realize tears are streaming down my cheeks. When did I start crying?
“It’s Callan,” I manage, the name catching in my throat.
“Callan,” he repeats slowly, testing the name like he’s searching his memory for it, like maybe heshouldknow.
And that’s when it hits me.
He has no idea who Callan is. Of course he wouldn’t know.
“Is he…” He stops, exhales, and starts again. “Something happened to him?”
“Yes.” My voice cracks on the single syllable. “There’s been an accident. He…” I can’t finish the sentence. Reality is closing in, and I can’t breathe through it.
Dillon’s face softens with concern, his hand still on my arm. “Who is he to you?”
How do I explain Callan? He’s laughter on rainy mornings and whispered promises under starlight. He’s the feeling of coming home when I never knew I was lost.
“He’s…”
Dillon studies my face, understanding dawning in his eyes. “You’re in love with him.”
It’s not a question. The tears on my face are answer enough.
“I need to get to Scotland.” My voice sounds distant now, like it belongs to someone else. Someone stronger, someone who isn’t falling apart at the seams.
He steps back, running a hand through his hair. “Scotland?”
“Yes, Scotland.” My voice breaks. The distance between us feels insurmountable right now, stretching across oceans and continents like a physical wound.
I turn my attention back to my phone, but my fingers won’t stop quivering long enough to do anything. The screen blurs through my tears, and I can’t seem to focus long enough to find any available flights. What if I’m too late? What if the last time I saw him was truly the last?
“Let me help,” Dillon says, his voice calm in a way minecan’t be right now. He gently takes the phone from my trembling hands. “Edinburgh, right?”
I look up at his face. It’s filled with concern, not judgment. Not the hurt or betrayal I might have expected.
I nod, unable to form words. My throat feels raw, as if I’ve been screaming. Maybe I have been, inside my head.
“I’ll book you the next flight out,” he says, already tapping at my phone screen. “And I’ll drive you to the airport.”
