“You’re done with him, Calliope.” But as I speak, I realize the reason she asked Jake to attend the hearing for her is because she’ll be gone from Maine.
She’ll begone.
We’ve done what she hired me to do.
I found Shane. She got her ring back. He signed thedivorce papers. I stayed with her far longer than I ever had with a client before. That’s because she’s not just a client.
She’s the woman I’m in love with.
Her expression morphs into a frown as she continues to spin her mother’s ring on her middle finger. It really is beautiful. I’m not surprised she fought so hard to get it back, especially as it’s the last gift her mother gave her before passing away.
Is Callie thinking that this is the end for us? Is she even thinking about us at all? Maybe I’m reading too much into her expression, her forehead crinkled and a downturn to her gorgeous mouth. Suddenly, I’m desperate.
Is this over?
Do I need to let her go, even though she’s fucking mine?
I can’t force her to be with me. But maybe she’ll have changed her mind. She could stay in Maine. Stay with me.
“Callie—” I start. I’ll have to convince her. I must.
“Can you send me your bank information or Venmo?” She cuts me off. “Plus how much I owe you. I can get the payment over right away.”
“I’m not taking your money, Calliope.” My voice is a low whisper.
“Please, Wes. Send the information.” Callie lays her hands flat on the table, as if she’s about to stand. “I’m—I’m going to go see Meadow. Thank you. Thank you for everything.”
These are not the words I expected to come out of her mouth.
Thank you? Like this was some kind of transaction or favor.
“Where does she live? I’ll get you there.” My voice cracks.
“Wes—” she closes her mouth and shakes her head.
“I can’t let you wander around the city by yourself, Callie. There’s some fucked up people here.”
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
I can’t accept this is happening right now. The edges of my vision darken, and I fight to stay calm.
“Fucked up people?” Callie chuckles without humor. “Like you and your brother?” Her face grows pink, like she’s shocked or surprised or embarrassed at her hurtful words.
They settle on my chest, burning like acid. I let them tear through my flesh and reach bone.
I thought she understood what we were doing. That we’re the good guys. We’re helping people. Helping women and children, so fewer people like my mother and sister end up murdered in their beds.
My stomach twists. I told her who I am. I showed her. And I thought she’d accepted me. I guess I was wrong. I was so desperate for love and acceptance that I made myself believe in an us that never existed.
“I thought you were different.” My words come out sharp, and she flinches.
“I’m not.” Callie shakes her head. Her eyes brim with tears, and even though her jaw is set and her words are firm, the tears escape and roll down her face. “I could never be with someone like you, Wes. I just can’t.”
Her words are a nightmare. My world shifts as I struggle to accept what she thinks of me. It was inevitable, I guess. And I can’t convince her—or anyone else—that murdering bad guys is ethically okay. It’s at best morally gray. And if I have to try, then this thing between us doesn’t have a chance.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it.
“Let me come with you. I don’t have to go in, but I can keep watch, then get you home safely to Portland.”
