Something snaps and I surge to my feet, chair scraping loudly against the floor. The noise draws attention and all the nearby tables go quiet.
“You don’t get to talk about truth,” I say, my voice low and shaking with barely-contained rage. “Not after everything you’ve done.”
Her smile sharpens. “Oh? I think I get to talk about it as much as I like.”
“Say what you came to say,” I bite out. “Or get the fuck away from me.”
She steps closer, invading my space, her eyes glittering. “She still not talking to you?”
That one lands. Hard.
“You actually thought she’d stay,” Talia continues softly, cruelly. “After finding out what you did? God, Callum. You live in your own little fantasy world.”
My hands curl into fists at my sides. I can feel my teammates shifting, readying themselves. I sense Lukas’s presence like a wall beside me.
“Get out,” I repeat. “Now.”
She tilts her head, studying me. “You know what the saddest part is? If you’d just stayed with me, none of this would’ve happened. I would’ve protected you.”
A bitter laugh tears out of me. “You don’t know the meaning of that word.”
Her eyes flash. “And she does?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “She does.”
For a split second, something ugly flickers across her face. Then she scoffs, masking it easily.
“Good luck with that,” she says lightly. “Hope she was worth it.”
She turns away, tossing her hair over her shoulder, rejoining her friends like she hasn’t just tried to rip me open in the middle of a crowded pub.
The room exhales collectively and my legs feel like they might give out.
Lukas grips my shoulder. “Sit down.”
I do, chest heaving, adrenaline roaring through my veins. My hands are shaking now, badly enough that Ryan notices and slides my glass further away.
“You good?” he asks.
“No,” I say honestly. “But I will be.”
“You handled that,” Ben states. “Didn’t swing. Didn’t shout.”
“Bare minimum,” I mutter.
“It wasn’t,” Lukas says. “And she wanted a reaction. You didn’t give her one.”
I nod, swallowing hard. The aftermath hits me all at once; the exhaustion, the hurt, the bone-deep ache of missing Rose so much it feels like withdrawal. I glance at my phone again, hating myself for the hope that flares every time. Still nothing.
“She’s hurting,” Lukas says gently, like he can read my thoughts. “And she’s allowed to be.”
“I know,” I whisper.
“And so are you,” he adds.
I lean back in my chair, staring up at the ceiling, letting the noise of the pub wash over me. Somewhere between the laughter and the clink of glasses and the low hum of conversation, I make myself a promise.
I won’t chase her. I won’t pressure her. But I also won’t give up. Because what we had, what we have, is real. It wasn’t a lie, even if it was built on one. And if she decides she’s done with me, I’ll respect that. But until she tells me herself? I’ll wait. I’ll take the silence. I’ll take the pain.
