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“Oh my god,” I say, a thought occurring to me. “I cut her hair a few times.”

“What?” he asks, confused.

“Sabel,” I say. “I cut her hair a few times. She would always go on and on about her work and Reverb. I mean, I didn’t pay much attention to it then. That woman loved to talk. But what if it was her? What if Sabel left this in my desk drawer before the fallout? It’s a stretch, but not entirely out of the question. Right?”

Callum sighs, his jaw flexing. “Yeah, maybe so,” he says. “But why, though? Why you? It doesn’t make sense to me.” He starts pacing again, and I’m beginning to think it’s a nervous habit. “And also, what the fuck did that stupid box do to us?”

“Did you pass out, too?” I ask.

“What? No. I’m fine,” he grumbles.

“But you said us. What did it do to us,” I repeat his words back to him.

“Oh … uh, I meant you,” he says, avoiding eye contact. He’s lying. His tells are as obvious as the sky is blue. I decide to brush it off, wanting to lighten the mood. The energy is all kinds of wrong right now.

“Yep. I’m great. I feel perfectly fine. A-okay,” I say, giving him a thumbs up.

He stares at me, unconvinced. “Uh-huh,” he says, lifting a brow. “Let’s hope it stays that way, then. I’ll do some research, see if I can figure out what this could mean. If I can’t find the information on my own, I’ll reach out to Riv.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” I say, fumbling with my skirt.

I can feel the energy shifting, but not necessarily to a lighter variety. I wonder briefly what it means as we ignore the entire music box situation and head back toward the parking lot. The sun bleeds into the horizon, casting a dying glow over the distant mountains. We don’t say anything as we walk, but the silence isn’t awkward like the silence between two strangers might be. I glance over at Callum and find that his head is already tipped in my direction. He watches me with a curiosity that piques my attention. And this time, he doesn’t glance away when I catch him staring. This time, he holds my gaze a little longer. Tension charges the silence around us now, crawling down my spine and igniting a fire deep within me.

“So,” I say, clearing my throat as I wave a hand toward Junie, “I should probably head back home.”

He narrows his eyes, pocketing his good hand deep in his sweats like he can’t trust himself to have it free. He’s getting worse at hiding his true intentions, and part of me wants to call him out on it. I decide not to as I reach for the door handle, pausing with my hand on the lever. I glance up at him, and the intensity in his stare is blinding. Holy shit, I did not expect that.

“Thank you, Callum. I appreciate you coming to do this with me,” I say, holding his gaze, if only to make him squirm.

He swallows, and the way his throat bobs makes my mouth water. My eyes linger there for far too long. What the hell did they put in this man when they made him? Whatever it is, it’s making it very hard for me to stand my ground. When he finally speaks, it comes out deep and raspy, as if meant to end me right here and now.

“It was my pleasure, love.”

Love? On the inside, I’m screaming, but I don’t let an ounce of that show for him. If he wants to play the big and broody man with no feelings, then I’m going to make sure that when he comes to his senses, he comes groveling on his hands and knees. I’m done playing. It’s time I make him work for it. As my inner self is cheering me on, I pull the door open and climb into my truck.

“Come on, Junie, don’t embarrass me in front of Mr. Sunshine, okay?” I whisper, stroking the wheel a couple of times.

My hand pauses over the key as I squeeze my eyes shut and manifest a miracle. I turn the key once, twice, and then a third time to get her started. I know she did that on purpose, because it never takes three tries. Ugh. Curse the universe, and its impeccably horrid timing.

“Damnit, you, Junie,” I say, jumping when I hear a knock on the passenger window.

I turn slowly, locking eyes with Callum and his permanent scowl. And here I was, thinking this situation couldn’t possibly get worse. I sigh, reaching over to roll down the window. Except, I can’t reach it. I knew this, and yet, I still attempted it. Rightfully, Callum rolls his eyes and tugs the door open.

“Can I help you?” I ask, smiling coyly.

“I can’t let you drive this thing home unsupervised. I’ll follow you,” he says, voice devoid of reason.

“I don’t need a babysitter, sunshine. Thanks for the offer, though,” I say, winking. I reach over to close the door, having forgotten the length of my arms in the last five seconds. I internally face-palm.

“No, you need a goddamn leash,” he mumbles, nearly a whisper. I’m not sure he meant to say it at all.

A … leash?

“I’m sorry, what was that?” I ask, trying to mask the blush creeping into my cheeks at the image of him putting a collar around my neck. I do not blush for any man, so why the hell is my face on freaking fire right now? I inhale, attempting to mask it.

“I wasn’t asking,” he says, ignoring my question and my obvious reaction to it. “I’m following you home, or you’re riding with me and leaving this piece of shit here.”

I scoff, annoyed. “Junie hasn’t failed me yet. I think I’ll take my chances,” I say, ignoring the nagging voice in my head telling me to climb onto the back of his bike and ride off into the sunset while I’m plastered against his back.