Page 16 of Wrapped in Love

She leaned back, meeting my eyes. “The chances of this working are slim. The obstacles⁠—”

I cut her off. “We’ll take it a step at a time. Tell me you don’t want that. That you don’t want me, and I’ll walk away.”

“I can’t do that,” she confessed, a tear trickling down her cheek.

“Then try with me. I’ll check my schedule when I get back and fly you out. I’ll come back too. We can meet partway. Plus, we can call, text, FaceTime…please, love. Don’t send me away without knowing you want to try.” I took in a long breath. “I’m falling in love with you, Callie. I know it’s fast and I know it sounds crazy, and who knows, maybe it was a Christmas miracle”—I smiled—“but it’s the truth.”

“Me too,” she whispered.

Hope soared. “Then you’ll try? With me?”

“Yes.”

I pulled her to my mouth, kissing her deeply. “My plane isn’t until tonight,” I mumbled against her lips. “Late tonight.”

“I thought it was dinnertime. That’s what you told your family.”

“I changed it. I wanted some time alone with you.”

Her eyes lit up. “I think you need a nap, then.”

I grinned down at her. We’d had an afternoon “nap” every day during the holidays. Not much sleep had happened.

I scooped her up in my arms, carrying her to her room.

Not much sleep was going to happen this time either.

5

SHANE

A MONTH LATER

“Love, I’m sorry.”

Callie’s tear-filled voice broke me. “I know he was old and did nothing but sleep, but he was my last tie to my dad.” She sniffled.

Jake had died—curled up on his chair, one last fart lingering in the air. Callie discovered him when she went to get a cup of coffee and stopped to stroke his fur. It happened yesterday, but it was the first chance I’d had to talk with her.

Long-distance relationships sucked.

Callie had flown here once in the weeks since Christmas. The first few days were great, but then all hell had broken loose at the hospital with an outbreak of flu, and I was constantly called in. I barely saw her the rest of the week, and since then, we hadn’t been able to connect. I missed her terribly—especially once she’d been here. Once I’d had her in my space, in my bed. I wanted her back here, but I knew she wasn’t interested in living in a big city.

Lately, I hadn’t been either. After the quiet time with my family, Calgary seemed too loud, too chaotic—too lonely.

“I understand,” I soothed. “It’s okay to be sad, love.”

“I wish you were here,” she confessed.

Pain lanced through my chest at her words. That was the problem. I wasn’t there for her. Despite my words of assurance, FaceTime, texts, and phone calls were cold comfort, compared to what I wanted. What she needed.

Her beside me. I needed her touch. I longed to feel her close.

“I know,” was all I could offer.

“We’ll see each other soon, though,” she said with hope in her voice.

“Ah…” I swallowed.