Page 53 of The Strength Of A Woman

They were right at the beginning of their marriage, so things were still unclear to all of us.

Before long, they had settled into their routines, and Julian York was prowling again, moving around the house, looking for me.

I was told by my beloved mother, and later by her dear mother, that that was just a phase.

That Julian York was a kid.

What they’d always refused to acknowledge was that he had caught me and pressed my back into the wall too many times to count.

On one of those nights, I ran away from him, took the stairs up, and walked to where Callum lived.

It was sheer luck to run into him.

I rarely had the chance to be alone with him.

Julian's footsteps trailed up the stairs when I pulled to a halt in front of Callum and asked him something stupid, like what time it was––I think.

He looked surprised and baffled, and soon after, he knew exactly who was after me, so he played along.

He told me what time it was just as Julian loomed at the end of the corridor.

He thought Callum hadn’t seen him, so he pulled back and hid in a cranny, while I checked Callum's eyes.

Like now, he wasn’t sending me away, but he wasn’t warm toward me either.

Yet… He let me use his authority to push Julian York away.

If Julian bought into the idea that Callum O’Hara had a semblance of a normal relationship with me, he most likely would’ve given up harassing me.

That’s what I thought.

That was also the first time I touched O’Hara.

I put my hand on his chest and, smiling so Julian could see me, thanked Callum O’Hara.

Then I pushed up onto my toes, and my lips touched his skin below his ear.

He stood there without reacting, without pulling back, and I was convinced that Julian had bought into the idea that I somehow mattered to O’Hara.

Julian York left me alone for a good while, but that has changed recently.

And now he thinks I’m more vulnerable than ever.

For the first time in his life, he might be right.

Since my time to respond to Callum’s question has expired, he tilts his gaze to his hands.

“What did he do to you tonight?”

Suddenly, his voice no longer has the feel of a casual conversation.

He’s not looking for an answer.

He’s testing me.

He talks like someone who knows that something bad has happened tonight.

He said someone would watch me, so maybe he knows the truth, and this is not the time to lie and prove to him how fickle I am. How I lack integrity and character, two things adults would normally have.