Page 22 of The Broken Keys

“This house?” I gesture around us, at the edges of glass and steel. “This is you. No shadows that don’t belong. No other person’s choices. Just you and whoever you decide to let in. I particularly like that it has six bedrooms.”

Her shoulders tense, and I know I’m walking close to the line. But I can’t stop.

“The Malibu house felt...occupied. Like someone else’s fingerprints are all over it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know how to explain it.” I take a step closer to her. “When I was there with you, it felt like I was trespassing. Like at any second, someone would show up and take me out.”

She wraps her arms around her waist as her hair floats in the evening breeze. “That’s a strange feeling to have since you were there five minutes tops.”

“Maybe.” My eyes find hers, searching. “Or maybe it’s because you were different there. Stiff. Like you were performing instead of just being.”

“I wasn’t performing.” She tucks her hair behind her ear.

“Weren’t you?” I get close enough that I can smell her spicy, warm perfume. “When we left, you glanced up at the security camera like you were checking to see if someone was watching. You turned your back to me when I dropped you off as soon as you spotted the blinking red light.”

“Callum—”

“You acted as if you expected someone to see us.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

“I’m saying I think that house belongs to someone else. Someone who matters to you.” My gaze never leaves her face. “Someone you’re protecting by not telling me the truth.”

“I told you it’s mine.” She strides past me and holds onto the railing. “Why are you bringing that up?”

“Because I’m falling in love with you all over again, and I need to know if I’m fighting for something real, or if I’m just the guy on the side while you wait for him to come back.” The words tumble out of me like a tsunami, washing away every defense I have left.

My therapist will be proud, but that’s irrelevant. I need to know what I’m up against.

Livianna turns to me. “That’s not…”

“It’s not what?” I step before her and cup her face in my hands. “It’s not true? Or it’s not fair?”

She closes her eyes, leaning into my touch. “Both.”

“Then tell me the truth, Lily. All of it. Let me decide if I can handle it.”

When she opens her eyes, my face is so close I can count her eyelashes. With the sunset casting everything in beauty and my thumb stroking across her cheekbone, she seems to consider it.

“I can’t,” she whispers. “Not yet.”

My insides go into a freefall. She’s so close to confiding in me about him, and the pain in her expression is enough to suggest he means a lot more to her than anyone knows. But I don’t pull away.

“Okay.” My voice is rough with restraint. “But when you’re ready to stop running from whatever this is that’s happening between us, I’ll be here.”

I drop my hand and step back, needing the distance before I do something like beg her to forget him and take a chance with me. “I should go get that ice cream before the store closes.”

“Callum, wait.”

But I’m already marching toward the door, muscles tight with fear of losing her all over again.

My boots scuff the pavement as I leave. I get to the car, cut in half. One part of me wants to make her tell me everything, and the other part knows dragging secrets into the light will only fray whatever fragile thread we’re sewing back together.

The street is a ribbon of gold. I wanna get the ice cream and come back to make some dumb, safe move that keeps the night from cracking completely.

I make that my intention and drive away with a heavy weight on my soul, realizing I might not get her back. Not if this other guy fights for her when he returns from his so-calledbusiness. And that’s enough for me to put my all into making things right with her.