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“Why do you do that?” she asks. “Why do you keep pushing me away?”

Despite the urge not to, this is my last chance to do just that. I have to let the little siren go. The longer I’m near her, the more danger we’re both in.

“I’m not pushing you away,” I say, standing from the sofa. “You can’t push something away that was never yours. I don’t want you, Lydia. It’s that simple.”

I turn away, unable to look into her eyes and say something so devoid of emotion. The words feel like acid on my tongue, burning a hole in their deception. Every part of me wants to undo them, but I don’t. I can’t. This is the way it has to be. This is how I keep her safe.

She glares at me, lifting her chin high. “You know, I don’t buy that load of shit for a single second. But it’s your loss, Callum Thorne. I deserve to be desired, and I’m done vying for your affection. You can leave now.”

She grabs the cat and stands from the sofa, walking off toward her staircase without ever turning back. And even though a stubborn part of me wants to turn around and demand her forgiveness, I open the door and walk out of her life instead.

13

Lydia

I didn’t bother turning around to watch as Callum Thorne walked out of my door, and apparently, out of my life. Not only did he lie to me, but he’s lying to himself. I know that he’s hiding his true feelings. I know there’s more to all of this than he’s letting on. But I’m done chasing after him. If there’s still a chance he wants me, he’s going to have to work hard as hell for it. It’s about time the claws come out to play.

I can’t help but consider what he said about his memories, though. Something about Callum feels fractured in a way that usually stems from a place of survival. He covers himself in armor, hoping no one will see through the cracks. Trust me, I would know. His armor is just a lot less … glittery than mine. I can’t help but wonder what made him this way. I want to know what broke him, so that I might consider how to make him whole again. Ugh, no. Focus, Lydia. It is not your job to fix Mr. Big and Broody.

He doesn’t want you.

He may have said that, and it might be eating me alive from the inside out, but I saw the way his golden-brown eyes couldn’t hold mine when he uttered those words. I saw the way he pressed his palm into the back of his neck, the way the truth was begging to tear free from his mind. I want to know what he’s hiding from me. If the music box affected him, can I expect the same thing to happen to me?

I consider all of the possibilities of this crazy frequency ordeal as I sift through my closet, grabbing a long dress from deep within. The dress is decorated with various apothecary-themed items, the colors mostly deep greens, purples, and pale yellows. I drape the material over my arm as I grab a pair of black sandals and push my feet into them. I head to my bathroom to finish getting ready and shoot a quick text before heading into Hollowcrest. I might know how to help Callum from a distance. I only hope that my mind doesn’t fracture before I get the chance to.

Lydia: Hey, Lo. I’ve decided to take you up on that offer. I’m on my way into Hollowcrest. Drop a pin? See you there, babe. (:

Sloane: AH! Yay. Yes, of course. See you soon.

A few minutes later, the location of the trauma recovery center arrives on my phone. I pull it up and head for the door, grabbing my deep orange cross-body bag on my way out. Walking over to Junie, I spot a note tucked beneath the windshield wiper on the driver’s side. Tilting my head, I reach over and grab it.

It reads, “Call this number and ask for Logan. He’s agreed to fix your AC. It’s on me. -Sunshine.”

I shake my head, smiling to myself. That idiot couldn’t leave well enough alone, could he? Who am I to say no to a free AC job, though? I fold the note and tuck it into my bag for later as I climb into the truck. I’m amazed when Junie starts right up on the first turn, smiling as I back out. It looks like the universe is actually on my side today.

☽ ✦ ☽

Thirty minutes later, I pull up to the trauma recovery center and park. I climb out of the truck and glance upward, reading the name ‘Havencrest’ painted on a wooden sign near the front door. The warm aesthetic of the place standing before me brings a smile to my face. As I make my way through the parking lot, I marvel at how the structure feels less like a building and more like a welcoming home.

The brick overlay is decorated in climbing ivy, softly caressed by the surrounding trees as they dance in the breeze. I stroll up to the wide porch that stretches the entire length of the building, decorated with potted plants spilling beautiful flowers, and wooden rockers every few feet. Climbing the three steps up, I listen to the wind chimes as they jingle quietly overhead. This place feels like a sanctuary. It feels like a place where the broken can reside without shame, a place where fragmented souls can be made whole again. As I open the front door, I can’t help but think of Callum and his broken soul.

The inside of Havencrest is somehow even more welcoming than the exterior. Immediately, I’m overcome with the scent of fresh-brewed coffee and lavender. The front lobby is more of a cozy living space as I step inside. Soft, navy armchairs are gathered near a stone fireplace. A few blankets are folded neatly over the backs of two love seats. My eyes scan a bookshelf lined with paperbacks, puzzles, and plants. I track the sunlight filtering in through the wide windows, which reflects brightly off the glass flower vase on a table in the center.

The reception desk comes into view, a small wicker basket full of scarves catching my attention. I read the small handwritten sign next to it that says ‘free for those in need.’ As I run my hands over the knitted fabric, I close my eyes and allow my senses to revel in the feel of it.

“Hi there, how can I help you?” a warm voice filters through my thoughts, and I turn in the direction of the melodic sound as I open my eyes.

An older lady with short brown hair and soft brown eyes sits behind the desk. She radiates warmth and tranquility, fitting in perfectly with this place.

“Yes, ma’am,” I answer. “I’m here as a volunteer. I’m meeting Sloane Keenan.”

“Oh, lovely! We adore Sloane and Riven. Those two are so sweet, aren’t they?”

I nod, smiling as she stands and leads me down a hallway. I glance at the paintings lining the wall, allowing the serene scenes of nature to transport my mind. We bank right and into a large room, and I instantly spot Sloane handing out refreshments near the back.

Making a beeline for my best friend, I take in the communal space. The large area houses several armchairs and love seats, all in various earth tones. Large windows frame the length of the back wall, the linen drapes allowing the perfect amount of light in. Several people occupy the space, chatting and smiling, some even crying. I can feel how safe this space is for all of them, and it makes me smile.

“Lyd!” Sloane calls out, waving me over when she spots me.