But I paused, taking in the way she held herself—rigid and trembling slightly. I couldn’t be that guy again. Not now, not with her. Not when all I wanted was to bridge whatever gap had formed between us.
“All right,” I said quietly, forcing my hands to release their grip on the edge of the table. “But for the record… I wouldn’t leave unless you told me to.”
She didn’t respond; just turned away from me, like my words were a weight too heavy to carry right now.
I stood up slowly, slipping into my coat as if that would somehow shield me from the chill of what just happened between us. The warmth of her house lingered on my skin like a ghost—comforting yet taunting at the same time.
As I stepped off her porch into the cold night air, a shiver ran down my spine—not from the temperature but from what felt like a door slamming shut behind me. The soft click of the lock echoed in my ears as if sealing away something fragile that had almost taken root.
I inhaled deeply, tasting winter on my breath—sharp and biting—and turned down the path leading away from her place. Each step felt heavier than the last as thoughts whirled in my mind like leaves caught in a storm.
What had just happened?
I’d pushed through walls before—smashed through them without thought or care for what lay on the other side. But Callie wasn’t something to bulldoze through; she deserved better than that.
She wasn’t shutting me out because she didn’t care.
That was the part that hurt the most.
Because I’d seen it—feltit—in every stolen glance, in the way her fingers had curled around mine, in that kiss that still haunted my mouth like a bruise. She cared. Enough to be scared. Enough to push me away before it got worse—for her, for me, for both of us.
But knowing that didn’t make it easier.
The night wrapped around me like a punishment. I walked to my car slower than I should have, as if dragging my feet could somehow keep me tethered to her a little longer. Streetlights stretched across the snow-slicked pavement in fractured lines, and the echo of my boots was the only sound besides the wind cutting through bare trees.
I shoved my hands into my coat pockets, trying to quiet the ache building in my chest. This wasn’t the war I was used to. There were no clear lines, no missions, no orders. Just emotions—raw, messy, unpredictable. And for once, I didn’t know how to win. Or if I even should try.
Maybe she needed space.
Maybe she needed time.
Or maybe this was the moment I’d always feared—the part where someone finally saw everything I’d been trying to hide… and chose to step away, anyway.
But I couldn’t blame her.
Not when I knew how heavy it was to carry someone like me.
The cold gnawed at me, but it couldn’t numb the ache that had settled deep in my chest.
It wasn’t just about her anymore—it hadn’t been for a long time. This town, these streets, the coffee-stained pages and stolen glances across bookshelves… they’d crept in and carved out a place in me I hadn’t realized was empty until Callie filled it. And now? I felt the hollowness echo with every breath, like a reminder of what I’d almost had—what I might’ve lost.
So I stood there in the quiet snow, the warmth of her still clinging to me like the last embers of a fire, and made a silent promise to myself:
I wasn’t done.
Not with her.
Not yet.
Chapter16
Callie
Two days had passed since I asked Cavil to leave, and the emptiness that followed settled into me like fog—thick, quiet, and inescapable.The Book Nook, usually my haven, felt hollow. I told myself I needed the space, that stepping back was the mature choice, but now? Every hour dragged. I dusted shelves that didn’t need dusting, reorganized sections that were already tidy. Anything to keep my hands busy and my mind from drifting back to him.
The bell above the door jingled, and—just like every other time—I looked up too quickly. Hope flared before logic crushed it. Not him. Of course not. I muttered a greeting to the customer and forced a smile, slipping into practiced cheer as I recommended winter romances and cozy thrillers. But every word felt stiff, like I was speaking through cotton. Even Marmalade seemed out of sorts, perched in his usual spot by the window with his tail twitching, ears tilted every time the door opened—like he was waiting, too.
The quiet between customers was the worst. That’s when memories came creeping in—his voice low and unsure when he tried to open up, the way he held my gaze like it meant something. And ithadmeant something. That night hadn’t been a fluke. I felt it in the way his fingers brushed mine, in the storm behind his eyes that calmed when he looked at me. I’d told him to go because I was scared, because falling for him meant risking everything. But now, I couldn’t stop wondering if I’d made the wrong choice.
