Her hands move to my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks. “If you ever pull something like this again, I swear to god I will kill you myself. You don’t get to leave me, Callan. Not before I’ve had the chance to love you the way I want to. You hear me?”
And just like that, everything stills. The haze, the pain, the guilt—it all lifts for one aching, beautiful second.
Maybe it took breaking every part of myself to finally understand that I’m tired. Not in my bones. In my soul. Maybe I’ve spent my whole life running toward danger because I didn’t think anything was worth settling down for.
But Bree’s here. Angry. Crying. Shaking with all the feelings I’ve spent years pretending I didn’t need.
She presses her forehead to mine as she whispers, “You owe me forever after this.”
I do. God, I do.
I wish I could say more. Wish I could make promises, wrap her up in every word I’ve never been brave enough to say. But my eyes are already closing, the pull of sleep relentless.
This time, I carry her voice with me into the dark. When I open my eyes again, I’ll fight to become the man who doesn’t just survive.
I’ll become the man who stays.
For her.
thirty-eight
CALLAN
“Christ. What the hell were they feeding you in there?”
My stepdad and Knox are practically dragging me inside the house, and it’s going as well as you’d expect. I can barely stand on my own, my ribs screaming in protest with every movement, and the crutches? Yeah, they’re more like weapons of mass destruction than any kind of help at this point. I’ve spent the last few days wheeling around the hospital like a champion, but that doesn’t exactly prepare you for trying to make it through your front door when you’re a complete invalid.
Every step is like I’m climbing Everest, even as Knox’s hands balance me, but it’s awkward. He’s not exactly the nurturing type, especially when it comes to someone as stubborn as me.
“Just a little farther,” my stepdad says, his voice strained from trying to hold me up.
“I’m not sure I’m going to make it up these stairs,” I mutter, half laughing, half grimacing. At this point, I don’t really have much of a choice.
Knox snorts. “You survived a river and multiple surgeries, but a staircase is where you draw the line?”
I glare at him, or at least I try.
Bree is standing in the doorway, her face a mask of pure horror as she watches the scene unfold. I can see the worry in her eyes, the way her hands flutter near her mouth like she’s physically trying to hold back her apprehension.
Knox shoots a glance at her over his shoulder, his grip tightening on my arm as I stumble. “It’s fine,” he calls out, though it sounds about as convincing as a bad joke. “We’ve got this.”
“Do you?”
I try to throw some humor into the mix, even though every breath feels like I’m inhaling fire. “Don’t worry,” I wheeze, “just a three-man job to get me ten feet.” My attempt at a smile probably looks more like the start of a painful coughing fit.
Her eyes dart between Knox and me, her face pale. “This is ridiculous. You shouldn’t even be walking. Why didn’t you guys call me sooner?”
“Didn’t want you to see this circus act,” I mutter, immediately regretting it as another sharp stab of pain shoots through my ribs.
“You’re going to hurt yourself more,” she snaps.
“I’m fine,” I grit out. I can see the worry etched on her face, and I hate that I’m the cause of it. “Just…need to get to the couch.”
Knox and my stepdad exchange a look over my head, and I can practically feel their shared exasperation.
“All right, tough guy,” Knox says. “Let’s get you settled before you keel over and undo all the doctors’ hard work.”
With agonizing slowness, we shuffle our way to the living room, each step a battle of wills between me and my body.
