Page 133 of Falling Back to You

Cal huffed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m an idiot. I should have gone in. Said something. But I . . . I saw you moving on, replacing me, and I just . . . couldn’t.” He blew out a breath. “I know there are things you’ve regretted in your past, and I have too. That night I got as drunk as I could. I’d never had alcohol before, and from then on, well, it’s a miracle I was sober enough to play.” He swallowed hard. “Then there were women. I . . . let the fame go to my head. And in some dumb way it felt like I was punishing you, too. Telling myself casual was enough because I never let my feelings get involved.” He hung his head. “Thanks to my family and Myles giving me some tough love, I got my head screwed on straight again. And when I found out about Khia . . . I wanted to do the right thing, so I offered to marry Izzy.”

I squeezed his hand. Did I love hearing about him chasing other women? Not at all, but I knew a thing or two about messing up. And I wouldn’t hold it against him when he’d extended me the same grace.

“I wish I had talked to you that night,” he said softly.

“Me, too.” My leg started to drag, and I stumbled against him. “Sorry.”

“Is it your leg?”

I nodded against his chest.

Gently, he released me, and I immediately missed the contact. But he wasn’t finished. Grabbing my waist, he lifted me up onto the counter. I squealed in surprise. I wasn’t exactly a paperweight.

A ghost of a smile flitted over his lips as his hands bracketed me on either side of my hips, eyes boring into me. “Would you have come back if I’d asked you?”

Would twenty-two-year-old Noelle have been smarter? “I’d like to say yes.” I fiddled with the bracelets on his wrist. “Not long after that, I tried to go home for the first time, but couldn’t. I think seeing you probably would have convinced me. But, Cal”—I touched his cheek—“we don’t get to play out what-ifs and if-onlys. Our failures were a part of the story but don’t define it. The Lord gets to redeem our mess into something beautiful.”

He nodded and pressed closer, resting his forehead against mine. The movement pulled his T-shirt across his broad shoulders, and a dark smudge of ink peeked out from the underside of his bicep.

I brushed my index finger over the mark, and his eyes fluttered shut. “What’s your tattoo mean?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed, his knuckles white as he gripped the counter.

“You don’t have to tell me if it’s private.” I backpedaled, dropping my hand.

But Cal shifted, tugging his sleeve higher and revealing a small Christmas tree inked into his skin. “I’m not proud of how wasted I was when I got it, but even then, you were still on my mind no matter how hard I tried to forget you.”

Slowly, I ran a finger over his warm skin. His exercise regime and active lifestyle did wonders for his muscles. With a mind of their own, my hands trailed from his bicep, up over his shoulders, looping around his neck. When I met his gaze, a torrent of emotion crashed over me.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, our noses brushing.

“Not as much as you are, Holiday.”

Did he move closer or did I?

He was definitely pulling a Jack Callaghan and leaning. His gaze dropped to my lips. Another inch and—

Mrs. Pickles jumped onto the counter, startling us apart.

Cats. The ruiners of romantic moments everywhere. Or at least in Serenity Springs. But it was getting late, so maybe it was for the best. Stop trying to be optimistic. You’d have gotten a good night kiss if that tabby didn’t have terrible timing. And I was back to semi-hating the cat.

“I should go.” I scooped Mrs. Pickles to my chest—because cats on the counter were gross—and slid off my perch.

“Yeah, it’s late.” Cal shifted, dazedly rubbing the back of his neck.

We’d laid our hearts bare tonight. There was no going back from all the long-overdue revelations. We knew the truth about each other, and we were both still here. Together.

I hesitated at the door, still holding Mrs. Pickles like a shield. “Thank you,” I said. For listening. For opening up. For caring. Then because I was a glutton for punishment, I abandoned my kitty shield and limped forward, throwing my arms around his waist. Holding on tight.

His strong arms wrapped around me like a cocoon, and as I sagged against him, I’d never felt so safe. I wasn’t alone. I didn’t have to carry the world. With him, I could breathe.

Cal kissed my hair, hand gently running up my spine. “It’s always been you, Elle.”

I smiled against his chest. “It’s always been us, Cap.”

Chapter forty-eight

Noelle