“I came because I wanted to stay with Callum. With someone who doesn’t depend on me, economically or emotionally. Someone who’s had an injury like mine and can understand me.” Her voice softened. “Someone who, when he looks at me… I feel seen. And I miss the ocean. Constantly. I miss the waves, the unpredictability, the weather…” Her gaze drifted to the window, to the grey sky stretched over London. “Even though this matches my mood more.”
Carla chuckled softly. “So, you came for Callum.”
“And for this,” Alejandra said, gesturing lightly to the room. “Dr. González suggested you could help me lift this weight off my chest. She fixed my shoulder… but I still feel broken.”
Carla’s expression softened even more.
“What did I just tell you? You’re not broken, Alejandra. You’re hurt. Shocked. Traumatized from a very near-death experience.” She paused. “And it happened at the hands of something you truly love. Of course it feels confusing. Of course it feels heavy. It’s normal.”
Alejandra swallowed.
“Is it normal to feel this pressure on your chest?”
Carla nodded. “It’s called anxiety. And I’m here to help you with it.”
She set her cup down.
“I’ll give you some exercises to practice. Some homework. Maybe this Callum can help you.”
Alejandra’s mind immediately betrayed her, drifting to very inappropriate thoughts about the ways Callum had already beenhelpingher.
She almost laughed.
Definitely not what the therapist means.
“Does that sound okay?” Carla asked.
Alejandra shook her head slightly, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through.
“Yes,” she said. “That sounds okay.”
And since she’d walked into the room, the weight in her chest didn’t disappear, but it shifted. Just enough to breathe.
42
CALLUM
Before You - Benson Boone
Alejandra was waitingfor him on a bench in Regent’s Park. Her green eyes—so perfectly matched to the grass around her—were set on the small pond where ducks drifted lazily. Callum took his time, watching her the way she was when no one else was looking. When she thoughthewasn’t looking. She was gorgeous, as always. The white blouse made her tanned skin practically glow, and her jeans overalls were mostly hidden by a long brown coat. Her long black hair—the same he’d had fisted between his fingers the night before—was braided back, with a few strands framing her face.
When he reached her, he sat beside her gently, careful not to startle her. Her eyes were rimmed in red, but she looked more at peace than anything else.
“How did it go?” he asked. “If you want to talk about it.”
“Good,” she admitted. “If crying like a baby counts as a good session.”
“I used to cry in therapy when I was a kid, so… maybe that’s exactly how it’s supposed to go.”
“Why did you go?” she frowned. “If you don’t mind sharing.”
He smiled, his eyes scanning the stillness of the park. “My mam sent me. She thought growing up without a father figure might mess me up, and she wanted to put a patch on it early. My mum never told me who he was, and I never pushed. I grew up with her and mytaid—my grandfather. He was everything a dad was supposed to be.”
“Wow. I… aren’t you curious?” She backpedaled quickly. “I mean, sorry if that’s too direct. I just… I’d die to know who my father is. Alive or dead, I mean.”
“I was curious. But then I saw how much it hurt my mum when the topic came up, so I let it go. Now, at thirty-five, I’m not really interested. Some guy got a fifteen-year-old girl pregnant in a Welsh town and vanished. I’m not losing sleep over him.”
Alejandra blinked several times, her face flickering through surprise, curiosity, even a touch of anger. “Your mum must be young.”
