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“Yeah, me. See anyone else here?”
“Since when does Callie Baker like to get her hands dirty?”
I take another bite. “A lot of things have changed about me, Easton Cruz,” I reply and wiggle my brows.
“Noticed the tattoo on your thigh hasn’t.” I gaze down at my exposed thigh. The one and only tattoo I have with Easton’s initials.
“Don’t hold out hope for that one. Costs more to get them removed than put on. I’ve almost hit my fundraising goal, though.”
“Wouldn’t bother. It looks good on you. Always has.”
I shrug, trying to hide how his compliments affect me. “Nobody even knows what it is. Whoever asks about it, I tell them that EC stands for extra cool, which is pretty legit.”
Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say. Easton’s smile falls, and his eyes darken.
“Who gets to see that?” The question is asked by a man ready to slay.
“Oh! No. Not like that. I tried teaching swim lessons at the YMCA last year. My therapist said it could be a good coping skill. It was just a bunch of curious kids. Couldn’t really tell them they were the initials of my broody ex. So I lied.”
“Hmm. . .”
He takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes trained on me. I wish I was in his head right now to get an idea of what he’s thinking about. I said no talking about last night, but we’ll need to at some point. A lot was said. Truths revealed. He still loves me. And I confessed a truth I’ve been harboring for almost two years. That I still love him. It felt strange to admit that. I’ve worked so hard to pretend I don’t. The bigger issue is where do we go from here?
“Hmm yourself. I’m gonna get dressed. Hide my extra cool tattoo. Meet you back in twenty?”
He nods, and I jump off the stool to escape his heavy stare.
***
“Easton?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“Do you ever think about the future?”
“What do you mean?”
I turn in his arms. His eyes look tired. A man fell off the rig at his site today and died. I should have gone home and let him sleep. I know the accident is affecting him. It’s affecting me too. “The future. Where you see yourself in ten years.”
He tugs me closer, pressing his forehead to mine. “What’s going through that head of yours?”
“Nothing. . . sorry. I think I’m getting my period or something,” I say, wiping my tears. “It’s just. What happened today? What if that was you? What if—”
“Hey, it wasn’t. I’m right here.”
“I know. But I can’t stop thinking about what if. I can’t imagine you not coming home one day. And I see you coming home to me for a really long time. And if that happens, I don’t know—”
I start to cry. Easton cups my cheeks, gently kissing my nose, cheek, and forehead. “Callie Baker. I will never leave you. There will never be a day that I don’t walk through that door to you.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“Nothing will ever keep me away from you. I would fight anything and anyone who gets in my way. Even death. No one is messing with our future. And the way I envision it, it’s a damn good one.”
***
Easton must have needed less than twenty minutes because when I walk out of the bathroom, he’s already in the bedroom, hard at work. And shirtless, might I add. “Is that part of the job?” I ask, grabbing his attention. He straightens and wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead.
“Is what?”
