“It’s okay, Liam,” she says in an unfamiliar, soothing tone and walks around the island to me. I’m not the one who needs to be comforted, but she won’t accept it, not now. “Rosie and I handled it.”
Thatcatches my attention. I look down at her, brows knitted. I’m desperate to know what happened. Finally, Calypso confesses.
“It was about thirty minutes after you left,” she says. “We had just come downstairs when Stefan knocked. I thought it was weird but assumed it was one of my siblings, giving us more privacy.” She’s mentioned that they all share keys to each other’s homes, but they don’t drive out here often.
Quickly, Calypso tells me everything that happened. She doesn’t spend time lingering on the details but it feels like she’s leaving something out. Not that I expect her to lie, but it’s hard for her to let someone care about her—to protect her.
“When I was trying to come back inside, Rosie attacked his ankles.” She looks down at my dachshund who is sitting at my feet, mighty proud of her small self. “I never expected she’d be such a good guard dog.”
I try to smile. Iwantto, but my lips fall flat. “You said ‘trying.’ Did he get physical with you?”
Calypso quickly shakes her head and places a hand on my chest. “No, not really. He slammed his hand on the door and it caught on my foot.”
Wordlessly, I drop to my knees and gently pull the slip-on shoe off. It’s the only distraction I have right now, and caring for her will always outweigh any other instinct I have. The one telling me to find Stefan is getting stronger by the day.
And do what? Beat him up like a shitty Lifetime movie? I don’t fucking know, but my patience is wearing thin.
“Liam,” she says, quietly and affectionately. “I’m okay—and it was the other foot.”
I look up with pleading eyes, desperate to dosomethingfor her right now; she concedes. Steadying herself against the counter, she lifts her foot for me. Slipping off the shoe and sock, I see the band-aid that’s already starting to peel. The abrasion is smaller than I expected, hardly even red or scabbed.
Calypso slides her hand up to my jaw and turns my head toward her. “I’mokay.”
Letting out a breath, I say, “I should be the one comforting you.”
“That would mean I’mnotokay,” she retorts with a reluctant twitch to her lips. “Which I’ve said multiple times now that Iam.”
Leaning into her, I revel in her soft hands brushing along my short beard. “Why don’t I believe you?”
She twists her lips to the side then confesses, “Because I was pretty shaken up earlier.”
I nod. “Thank you for admitting that. I feel a little less crazy now.”
Her shoulders drop and she shakes her head. “You aren’t crazy.”
“I am when it comes to you,” I murmur.
Calypso bites the corner of her lip then says, “There’s something else he said.” Closing her eyes tightly, she shakes her head as if she can shake the thought right out.
“Okay.” I slowly stand and hold my breath.
“Stefan said—he said that…” She gags a little. “Stefan and I saw each other once, at the hotel in La Jolla.”
Nodding, I try to follow along. He saw her with someone—another man to fulfill her tradition.
“Look, unfortunately, Stefan knows me well. Especially the uglier sides of my personality.” She pales and twists her hands anxiously.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her there aren’t any ugly sides to her; not in my eyes. I know what she means, though—we all have traits we aren’t always proud of.
“There’s no reason to be ashamed about having a one-night stand, Calypso,” I remind her. Over my dead body will I let Stefan take her sexuality away from her, or corrode it like he so cruelly did to her youth. “You could have slept with a different person every single night since your divorce, and it wouldn’t matter.”
She shuts her eyes and shakes her head again, but her eyes are red when they meet mine again. “He figured out what my tradition was, but needed to make sure for himself. So, last year—before meeting you—he followed me to the hotel, and watched me leave with the guy.”
A needle could drop between us and it’d sound like an anvil. I won’t make her say it when it’s obvious and clearly so fucking painful.
How couldn’t it be, finding out that Stefan is so cruel? So controlling that he would not only manipulate her mind, but violate her privacy years after they separated?
Anger consumes me—hotter and deeper than anything I’ve ever felt before. It sparks in my chest, growing bigger and brighter until I swear my ribs are about to crack open from the pressure.
