I was rinsing out the last of the coffee cups, letting the warm water run over my bruised knuckles, when the bell over the door jingled. I didn’t have to look up to know it was her. The air shifted. Got heavier—and warmer, somehow. Callie stepped inside, the cold clinging to her coat, her eyes sweeping the room like she was looking for something urgent.
She stopped when she saw me. Her gaze landed on the bruise at my cheekbone, and I watched something flicker behind her eyes—concern, anger, maybe both. I turned away instinctively, suddenly all too aware of how I must look. Like trouble. Like the kind of man who couldn’t keep his hands—or his temper—to himself.
“Cavil.” Her voice was steady, but there was no mistaking the undercurrent. She didn’t wait for permission—just crossed the room and put her hands on my shoulders, guiding me toward the back room like she had every right to. Like I wouldn’t argue. And the truth was—I didn’t want to.
“Sit,” she ordered. Not asked. And I did.
She dug out the first aid kit from under the shelf, flipping it open with practiced fingers, her jaw set like she was preparing for a confrontation. I watched her move, fast and focused, and for a second I forgot how to breathe.
“It’s nothing,” I muttered, though I already knew she wouldn’t buy it.
“Nothing doesn’t leave bruises,” she snapped, and before I could stop her, she slipped off my jacket and took my hand. Her fingers were gentle, but her expression was anything but. She examined the scrapes across my knuckles, the cut just under my jaw, like each mark told a story she hadn’t been allowed to hear yet.
The antiseptic burned when she dabbed it on, and I grunted under my breath. Her touch wasn’t soft—not because she didn’t care, but because shedid.
“Why would you fight Leo?” she asked, each word tight and clipped, like she was holding something back. “What were you thinking?”
I didn’t answer right away. My eyes dropped to the scattered supplies across my lap, the sting in my hands nothing compared to the ache sitting just beneath my ribs. “Because he said something I couldn’t let go.”
Her hands stilled. Her gaze rose to mine, steady and searching. “About what?”
I hesitated, but lying would’ve felt worse than the bruises. I met her eyes and let the truth land between us.
“About you.”
That stopped her. Her mouth parted, just a little. Surprise. Maybe even something softer—something I didn’t dare name.
“What did he say?” she asked, her voice low now. Fragile, but not afraid.
I held her gaze, throat tightening. I could still hear Leo’s voice in my head, the venom in it. “He said something unforgivable.”
And for the first time since she walked in, I saw it—her armor crack just slightly. Enough to see she already knew. Maybe not the words, but the weight of them. The damage. The scar they’d been meant to leave.
Her breath caught, just barely, but I felt it. Heard it. And somehow, that small sound said more than anything else could.
“Why does that matter to you?” she asked, quiet but sharp. The kind of question that came from years of silence. Not anger. Not accusation. Just… the ache of never knowing where we stood.
“Because you matter,” I said. Simple. No excuses. No escape hatch. Just the truth laid bare.
And in that moment, everything shifted.
Something electric passed between us, brittle and alive, like the breath before a storm. I saw it in her eyes—the fear, the hope, the disbelief. She didn’t move. Neither did I. We just stood there, suspended in something that felt bigger than either of us.
Then I stepped forward, closing the space like it had never belonged there to begin with.
I kissed her.
At first, it was cautious—like testing if the ground would hold beneath us—but the second she kissed me back, that hesitation crumbled. All of it. Years of what-ifs and too-lates burned up in the space between our mouths. Her hands gripped my shirt like she was afraid I’d disappear, and mine slid into her hair, anchoring me to the one thing that finally felt right.
It wasn’t clean. I wasn’t careful. But it wasreal.
We fit together like something unfinished finally clicking into place; the tension breaking not with distance—but with fire. Her lips moved with purpose, drawing out every moment we hadn’t taken, every truth we hadn’t spoken. And for once, I didn’t hold back.
The rest of the world faded—no ghosts, no guilt, no Leo.
Just Callie. And me.
And the feeling that maybe… this was the beginning of something we should’ve never stopped wanting.
