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A crooked smile tugs at the corner of his lips.
One I could draw with my eyes closed, I’ve seen it so many times.
“Which time?” he asks with a hint of quiet sarcasm that eases my mind just a little.
“The first time when I followed you guys up there anyway and asked you and Maddox to let me play with you.” I picture it so clearly in my mind. Six-year-old me, already in love with ten-year-old Callen, who cared about exactly two things. Football and his friendship with my brother. He barely knew I existed back then... at least most of the time.
Guess some things never change.
Callen flips his hand over, and strong, calloused fingers lace with mine and squeeze, making my heart squeeze right along with them. “You mean the time you followed us up there, even though you weren’t supposed to and demanded you be allowed to play too, then stomped your foot when Maddox told you no?”
I take a measured chance and rest my head against his shoulder, needing to give him whatever kind of comfort I can right now. “I mean the time the two of you left me up there after Maddox said he was going to tell Dad.”
I close my eyes and fight back a tear when he presses his lips against my forehead.
Callen and I like to tease each other.
We like to bicker and joke and make fun of the other one.
It’s what we do.
What we don’t typically do is touch. Not like this.Neverlike this, no matter how much I wish we would. No matter how many times I’ve hoped and wished for it. He touches everyone else so freely. His friends. His family. But never me.
“The time you were too scared to climb back down the ladder and sat at the edge, crying.” His voice is hoarse from sleep as I hold my breath, soaking it in.
“Until you came back up and told me to climb on your back and hold on to you so you could climb us both down,” I whisper so quietly, it’s nearly inaudible, still able to remember exactly what it felt like to have him save me—and exactly how much it hurt when he pulled away after Maddox showed up. “You were so sweet until Maddox came back with Dad. Then you agreed with him that I was just a stupid girl and walked away.”
He’s so close, if I lift my head just a little, we’d be face to face and lip to lip.
“You like to do that, Callen. You like to say things when no one else is here to hear them and do things when we’re alone and there’s no one here to witness.” I pull away because we wouldn’tbe Callen and Caitlin if there weren’t a push and pull between us, even if no one but us ever knows it’s there. “Well, there’s no one here now, so how about you tell me what’s going on, and we’ll act like you never said a word after. I’m worried about you, Sinclair.”
Callen
This woman has no fucking clue.
Not about the day I’ve had, the fucking shit news I got, or the way I feel about her.
How could she? I haven’t told her any of it.
I can’t.
I shouldn’t.
“Cait.” Her name is jagged like glass ripped from my throat. “I?—”
“You do, Callen. Don’t bother saying you don’t do it. Look around you. Where am I?” She lifts her head and moves away, facing me instead of beside me. Her arms wrap around her knees, and she lifts her beautiful face and nails me with nearly violet eyes. “I’d never be in here if Maddox was home. Seriously... I wouldn’t be here if anyone were home, and you know it. You would have never asked.”
It’s not the honesty in her words that bothers me. How can it when she’s right, and I know it? I’ve always fucking known it. It’s the hurt in her voice. In her face. In the way she’s holding herself. “I’m sorry...”
Cait shakes her head and tucks her hair behind her ears.
“Don’t, Sinclair. Don’t apologize. That’s just a half-assed Band-Aid. Fix it. Tell me what’s wrong. What happened today?”
I think back to my conversation with my parents earlier.
To the one I had with Cooper when we went to West End after.
Fuck.
