Page 29 of Untroubled Heart

I’m actually not into fancy café drinks. If I have sugar too late in the afternoon, I can’t sleep, but when we passed the coffee shop coming out of the office, Callie mentioned how it’s become her favourite place to stop. I didn’t hesitate before pulling into the drive-thru lane, demanding to know her order.

I’m meeting Tristan for our weekly tennis game tonight, so that should help expel any leftover energy from the drink. Probably should have asked for one pump of hazelnut syrup instead of two.

“So you’ve been looking for a house for a while?”

I nod, taking the next turn as the map says. “Yeah, almost a year.”

“Are you looking for something in particular?”

“I don’t even know anymore,” I say with a breathy chuckle.

Callie turns in her seat so she’s facing me. “What are some of the reasons you didn’t like other ones you’ve seen?”

“They didn’t feel like… home.”

“And what does home feel like?”

Family. Laughter. Like the comfort of an old movie, or your favourite song on repeat.

“One of my favourite places is my grandparents’ house,” I say instead, turning onto a gravel driveway. Old trees are scattered around us, with carefully placed garden beds filled with purple, pink, and white flowers, and a big house just visible in the distance. “It’s where our family gathers every week, and no matter where you sit—the kitchen, the dining room, the backyard—they’re all filled with so many good memories. So many good feelings. I want a space that feels like it’s going to be the start of more times like that. I dunno. That’s the only way I can describe it.”

I can’t think of any word that properly encompasses the feeling of what I’m trying to find and recreate for myself.

“I know what you mean.”

My heart slams against my chest with her words. “You do?”

“It’s like coming home after you’ve been on a long holiday, or like nostalgia. Everything just makes sense, like you can breathe easier. A comfort that you can’t quite put into words, but you can feel it.”

I come to the end of the drive, bringing the car to a stop beside Carmen’s silver Audi, before I sit and stare at Callie.

“Yes.” The word feels ripped from my bones. “That’s exactly it.”

She takes a sip from her green drink, which looks disgusting, but didn’t sound so bad when she ordered it. Iced strawberry matcha with coconut cold foam. I kept the receipt when the cashier gave it to me, so I had it written down, just in case.

I hurry out of my seat, rounding the front so I can get her door. Callie’s already got one foot on the side step as she balances her phone and drink in one hand and grips the overhead handle with the other.

I normally help Beth out of my car, who, even with five-inch heels, struggles. Callie’s got no hope of getting out without jumping, and I won’t risk her breaking an ankle.

She adjusts her position as she tries to get out, growing flustered that she’s taking her time, but I’ll happily wait. Sighing, she places her drink and phone on the dash so she has two hands to hoist herself out.

Without thinking, I wrap an arm low around her back and tug her into me as I pull her from the car.

She gasps, hands gripping my shoulders as I spin us round. I don’t intend to linger, but the feeling of her body pressed against mine has me suspended in time. Her eyes are locked on mine, and the scent of caramel and sweet berries surrounds me.

“You’re here!” Carmen shouts from somewhere beside us, shattering whatever spell we’d been caught in.

Clearing my throat, I lower Callie to her feet, my cheeks hot as I reach back into the car, handing over her drink and phone.

“Thanks,” she says in barely a whisper as she avoids looking directly at me.

I close her door and make my way up to the house. When Callie slowly dawdles behind me, I press a hand to the small of her back, urging her forward.

“You can’t help from back there.”

It’s all well and good to tell myself to act like a professional, but it’s hard to keep that rule in place when my heart is battling for dominance.

I’ve always been a flirt and easy with affection, but it’s all for fun. Often, I’m playing off whoever’s on the receiving end. Callie doesn’t fuss over me like other women, but there’s still this undeniable pull to her that I want to understand. The more I think about Beth’s claim that it’s my ego’s inability to handle rejection, the harder I protest. It’s not as simple as that. It’s something inherently Callie. It’s her assertive kindness. Her beaming smile and deep blue eyes. The go-getter attitude she exudes. She’s magnetic.