He knew they should wash up, but he closed his eyes and ran his fingers through her hair instead, clutching her against him. His heart raced and his skin buzzed and he couldn’t reconcile the feeling of being split open, all raw sinew and tender skin, with the sense of rightness that pounded through his blood. Like all those vulnerable places that she’d torn open needed to be broken apart, like scar tissue, before they could be mended. Like being with her was stitching him together in ways he hadn’t known he needed.
Callie turned her head and planted a soft kiss to the center of his chest before nuzzling against him again and drifting off to sleep. His throat was too tight, his mind a tangle of fuzzy afterglow that insisted he tell her that he wanted more than the next few days—he wanted everything. Even in his sex drunk haze he knew better than to make promises he was in no position to keep, so he gathered her closer and breathed in the citrus and rain scent of her, grounding himself with the feel of her skin against his as he gave himself over to sleep as well.
Chapter 21
“Calico.”
She woke to the sandpaper slide of Noah’s stubble as he planted kisses on her neck and shoulders. But she didn’t want to wake up. She wanted more time. She wriggled back against him, pulling his arms tighter around her and grumbled in protest.
He laughed, his breath hot on her skin. “It’s time to get up, love. Liv will be expecting you soon for whatever primping women do before a wedding.”
She chuckled. “Feminine secrets. I’d be excommunicated for telling.”
He tickled her side, sending an unexpected jolt through her and she yelped in surprise. “No secrets,” he said in her ear.
She turned in his arms, wrapping her own around him and holding him close, their legs tangling. She didn’t want any secrets from him—imagined or otherwise.
“I owe you an apology,” she said.
His eyes widened in surprise. “For what?”
Why is this so hard?She tucked her head beneath his chin, burrowing into the cocoon of his arms as she spoke into his chest.
“For ghosting you after my twenty-first birthday party.” He went rigid in her arms, unnaturally still, but she pressed on. “I never told you what happened.”
“I know what happened.” She looked up at him, wondering what exactly he thought he knew. He met her gaze, his brow drawing low, highlighting the crinkles at the edge of his eyes. “Your mom told me.”
It was her turn to be surprised. “My mom?”
“At the hospital.”
She pulled away, needing to see his face, because what he’d just said made no sense. “You—the hospital?”
He took a deep breath, his jaw clenching. “Liv called me when you were admitted.”
She closed her eyes. Of course, Liv would have called him. Liv had been halfway across the country at the time, unable to come herself, so she’d sent her big brother to take care of her best friend. It made perfect sense, except…
“You never visited me in the hospital.”
He rolled away from her, sitting up on the bed and running his hands through his hair. She gathered the blanket around herself against the sudden chill.
“Liv called and I went straight to the hospital. I don’t think I even said goodbye to her before I hung up. They wouldn’t let me in to see you because I wasn’t family. Best friend’s older brother doesn’t count apparently,” he said with a sad smile. She reached for him, pressing her palm to his face. He held his own hand over hers, keeping her touch against his cheek. “Your mom found me arguing with a nurse in the lobby. When she told me what happened—” He closed his eyes. “It was my fault, Callie.”
“What are you talking about?”
He pulled her hand away from his face, holding it in his lap and focusing his attention there. “Your mom said you were sick. Really sick. That they didn’t know what was wrong yet, but that it likely started because you’d had too much to drink. If I’d done a better job of looking after you, if I hadn’t kept buying you rounds—”
“Noah, look at me.”
He shook his head, focusing on her hand. She scooted closer to him, until their knees were touching. Her stomach twisted in a knot of nausea.
“It wasn’t your fault. I didn’t get fibromyalgia because I had too much to drink. My mother—” She blinked back the stinging in her nose, the anger rising like bile at the back of her throat. “She was wrong.”
With a shuddering breath, he finally raised glassy eyes to meet her gaze and her heart swelled. All these years he’d thought he’d caused her illness? All these years he’d stayed away…
“Shit, Noah, even a Google search could tell you that you don’t get fibro from drinking.”
He chuckled then, but there was no humor in it. “Would you believe me if I told you I never looked it up?”
