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“On one condition.”He chuckles, ducking out of the way of my kiss. “We never talk about the past. From here on out, we are Cal and Lia.” I wrinkle my nose. “Zara, you have to let go of the past. I like Lia,” he confesses. “You can stay Roem or Scott—preferably the latter.” He grins wolfishly, and my thighs tense with need. I gawp at him.
Scott! Definitely Scott!
“But we startafresh now, as new people with a new life. We let go of it all,” Callan reiterates.
I nod. “Yes,” I agree, “no more past. Just us and the future.”
“Good, now kiss me.”
I lean right in and stop a breath short from his mouth.
“Scott,” I whisper slowly, raising my eyes to meet his. “I’m yours. I’m a Scott,” I tell him.
It’s mid-morning when the sound of footsteps ascending the sandy steps from the beach stops me talking mid-sentence. Stalin’s large body comes into view, and beside him, Isabella’s dainty frame. Her small hand is held in his as he assists her in navigating the dusty path. I stand quickly and smile at them, but when I twist to Callan, he is grimacing at Stalin, handling his sister with ease.
“Hi!” I’m excited and so happy to have them here that I never considered Callan’s hurt at not being able to connect with his sister. “Callan has been telling me how great it is to have his sister home.”
Isabella’s gaze shoots up from the floor, and her cheeks flush. There is an obvious tension between them. I flick a look to Callan to find him clenching his fists and frowning out at the sea.
“We’re so glad you came out. I am really happy you’re both here,” I exclaim. Stalin nods at me and lifts his chin at Callan in greeting. “Drink?” I ask, trying to lift the fog of awkwardness.
“Please,” Isabella exhales a worn-out breath, “that's some climb.”
“Be right back.” I whip off but stop and watch as Callan stands and approaches his sister. She fixes a smile to her mouth for him, but I can see the shame on her face at how Callan views her with pity. I frown, chewing my lip. Does he even realise he is doing that? He pecks her cheek and rubs her back, but she soon returns to Stalin’s side, where he pulls a chair out for her, telling her how unfit she is, which makes her laugh. His ease and calmness around her brings a smile to my face. He likes her. They both settle into a soft conversation, and Callan stomps my way as I race off and feign being busy.
“Everything okay?” I say when hands slip around my waist. He murmurs an inaudible response as his chin drops to my shoulder. “You know if all you see when you look at her is pain, she will never be able to forget it,” I say it whisper-soft, but the words hit like a freight train. Stiffening, he tightens his hold around my waist.
“I can’t help thinking about what she went through.”
“I know, but whilst you keep looking at her with all this torture in your eyes, you’re not allowing her to move on. You pity her, and it brings her shame,” I tell him gently. I twist, hooking my arms around his neck, grimacing at him.
“Fuck. I didn’t even think that. I thought she just found me too intense.”
“Well, that too. You’re about as subtle as a sledgehammer.” I chuckle.
“What if she never talks about it? I don’t want her to suffer in silence. She hasn't said a word to me.”
“To you,” I point out, “it doesn’t mean she hasn’t been talking.”
“Stalin hasn’t said a word.” He defends, taking over pouring the drinks. I drop my hands to the counter.
“And he won’t.Haveyou seen how he looks at her? He’s fighting her demons like you did mine. She just wants her brother. Nothing more,” I say quietly.
“I swear if he has even touched her, after all she has been through,” he growls.
I shake my head. “Callan, she’s not a little girl anymore. She is a woman who has been through hell—she deserves to be loved, properly loved. Would you want it to be anyone else?”
He grumbles, “No.”
“She seems happier. Last time I saw her, she was just a void,” I comment. “Anyway, something tells me Stalin is a big softy like you.”
“There’s nothing soft about me.” He jolts his hips forward.
“Really? A bird once told me you cried like a baby over losing your love.” My lips twist, and I yelp when he bites my neck.
“Did you not cry for me?” Having placed the glasses down, he cups my throat. “How many tears did you shed?” he hums. “As many as when I make you come undone?”
“Years worth.” I swallow against his gentle palm. “It broke me, Callan. I don't want to talk about it.” I frown. “It’s nothing to how it feels having you here.”
