Page 105 of Midnight Curfew

I leave him to calm her down, and I make my way to his bedroom.

16

Callum

Reaching over, I shift a lock of Sophia’s hair from where it falls over her nose and tuck it back behind her ear. Her soft pink lips part every time she exhales, her slumber calm and peaceful.

These PTSD episodes rarely happen anymore, but they take everything out of her. She’ll sleep for twelve hours.

We sang her song a couple of times, and I helped tuck her into bed, staying with her to make sure she was out.

These attacks are the one thing that made me apprehensive about her helping Dallas in the classroom. If she freaks out at school, what’s private won’t stay private. She hated being away from her mom and me, so we try to help her manage with the outpatient therapy. Going after her is the one way anyone can wield power over me, and I don’t want him to have it.

I need to be more careful. Anything that sparks her memories of the trauma sets her off. It’s what happened four years ago when she needed more professional help than we could give her.

Plus, my father wanted her out of sight.

My stepmother kept an apartment in West Palm Beach to be close to her daughter’s hospital as often as possible, but the prenuptial agreement kept her married to him. If she left him, she wouldn’t have the money for her daughter’s care, but her daughter wouldn’t have needed care if her mother had never married my father in the first place. I learned very early that life is one cruel joke after another.

I lie next to Sophia, my arm tucked under the pillow.

She’s the only person who likes me.

And I’m failing her. The curfew isn’t working, I’m not any closer to paralyzing the Bay, and the only time I got hard tonight in the Wolfe Room was when he was looking at me.

I clench my teeth, swallowing the needles in my throat. I can take being weak. I can face my proclivities. I can swallow my pride.

I can’t let her see that I’m not her knight. I’d rather lose my legs.

My eyes fill, and I roll off the bed, grabbing my shoes and socks off the floor. Walking out of her room, I close her door, leaving it open a crack, and make my way down the dim hallway to my room. Flame bulbs flicker in the lanterns on the wall, and it hurts to breathe, the weight on my chest heavy.

She’s all I have.

My marriage someday will be a lie. My friends are lies.

I don’t own anything that I can’t live without.

There’s nothing else but her.

“Is she okay?” a voice pierces my thoughts.

I suck in a breath, jerking my eyes to my bathroom.

Dallas stands there with my towel wrapped around his waist as he rubs another one over his wet hair.

What the fuck? I wet my dry throat, blinking as I take in the droplets of water covering his chest and stomach. My cold skin floods with warmth, the steam from my shower floating across my face.

Did he use my shower?

How the hell…?

My eyes sting, my head hurts, and I drop my things, looking around for anyone else.

But it’s just him.

What—

He tosses the towel down and combs his hand through his dark hair as he steps out of the bathroom.