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Shit.
“Earth to Callen.” She looks up at me, annoyed that I’m standing between her and the lamp. “Are you ignoring me or have you just taken too many tackles to the head?”
Fuck—she’s beautiful.
“You don’t take tackles to the head, kitten.” My feet don’t budge as she puts down her sketchbook and purple pencils and stands to face me. Her tits push the boundaries of her soft-looking tank, with her peaked nipples holding my gaze like oncoming headlights I can’t look away from. Jesus Christ, I can’t do this anymore.
“I know.” She smiles as if last night didn’t happen and she hadn’t walked away, pissed and hurt. And it’s the hurt that killed me. Pissed Caitlin I can handle. Hurt is a whole different game, and I swear to fuck, I can’t keep up with her. “I was calling your name, and it was like you were lost somewhere else. I knew if I got a football term wrong, you’d correct me.”
She reaches out and tugs my hand in hers, and something about her touch breaks me in a way I’m not sure I want to recover from.
Before yesterday, I thought I was un-fucking-breakable.
“Cait—it’s been a shit day . . .”
Her fingers brush my temple, and I close my eyes and soak in the touch I know I shouldn’t allow.
“Talk to me, Callen.” Caitlin’s voice is soft and so unlike her. “We used to talk.”
I did that to her, and damn, I don’t like knowing she’s now hesitant with me.
“I gave my word, Cait.” I don’t know how I’m going to shoulder that weight though. Not when it’s already a million-pound anchor drowning me.
Her pale cheeks flush with fiery anger. “My brother?—”
“It’s not Maddox,” I cut her off. I owe her that much. “It’s my dad,” I utter, so damn frustrated.
“Coach?” She takes a step closer, and all the anger that was there a second ago is washed away like the change of the tide. “Is he okay?”
No one ever gives Caitlin the credit she deserves for being as intuitive as she is. They all see her as a flaky socialite, more interested in designer shoes and clothes than anything that matters. They don’t know her. They never took the time to watch her. Their loss.
I grab her nearly naked shoulders, tangling my fingers in her straps, unable to think straight while she’s touching me.
“I won’t say a word, Callen. Something is eating you alive. It’s enough that you stumbled in blackout drunk last night.” Sadness laces her tone as her icy-blue eyes shudder at the mention of last night. She’s not yelling at me like I expected, and that’s somehow worse.
“You’re wrong,” I tell her, and she laughs a silent laugh.
With a determined tightness settling in, she takes another step toward me until only inches separate us. “I’m not. Whateveritis, it’s already consuming you. You need to talk to someone, and I’m the only one here, buddy.”
“You forgive me for last night then?” I’m not sure why I even ask, but I do it knowing I might not like the answer.
She shakes her head. “I’m choosing to be the bigger person. You’re still my friend, and you’re hurting.”
“You’re not wrong aboutthat, Cait.” I can hear the exhaustion in my own voice, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Not now. Not when I’m so fucking tired. Tired of fighting this. Tired of just the idea of fighting everything that’s coming. Fucking tired of fighting her.
She cocks her head to the side, working through what I mean.
“I wasn’t blackout drunk. I remember all of last night. I knew what I was doing. It’s the only part of the whole fucking day I don’t want to forget.” I slide my hands down to her waist and breathe her in like she’s the hit of pure oxygen I need to get through the night. “I knew I shouldn’t have done that. And I know I shouldn’t be doingthis, Cait.”
Her breath gets caught in her chest as a tremor runs down her beautiful body.
The tips of her fingers skim over my lips, and my control frays at the edges as it pulls tight, trying to hold strong.But failing.
“Careful, Callen. You’re not getting another chance.” She presses up on her toes and wraps her arms around my neck. “Be sure this is what you want.”
And it’s like I can see each individual strand of the string holding me back snapping one at a time.
I’m not good enough for her—snap.
