18. Callum
EIGHTEEN
CALLUM
She was so wet for me.
I didn’t want her, but something inside me needed her. I had lost control, not thinking about the consequences, and instead thinking only of her . Spread out on the table, Elodie’s ripped T-shirt hung open, exposing her sheer bra.
I hadn’t even had the decency to properly undress her .
I cleared my throat, taking a step back to pull up my pants and give her space to close her legs. She scooted to the edge of the table, holding her tattered shirt together and looking at the pile of discarded clothes on the floor.
“Well,” she said, humor laced in her voice as she surveyed the mess.
I bent down and scooped up her jeans and thong, holding them out to her. “Sorry.”
Her face twisted. “Sorry? For what?” Elodie shook out her hair. She kicked her legs as she sat at the edge of the table, totally unaffected by the fact she was still naked from the waist down.
I gestured toward her. “Your shirt. ”
She plucked at the ripped cotton and hit me with a devious smile. “I already told you, you’re paying for that.”
I bit back a grin as my eyes met hers. “Noted.”
I looked around. These were dangerous waters—the lines between what we were and what we’d become were getting murkier by the second.
Elodie hopped off the table, holding her discarded clothing in front of her. Her head tipped to the side, a cute little pout forming on her lips. “We still hate each other, right?”
“Yes,” I lied.
I wanted to hate her. It would certainly be easier, but there was no way I could. Who could possibly hate a woman who walked around like a literal ray of sunshine?
“Good.” She padded toward the bathroom before turning to look at me over her shoulder. “Now get out of my house.”
I chuckled and stuffed my hands into my pockets.
It was nothing more than two consenting adults working out a little frustration. That was all it was.
All it could be.
It was only a matter of time before she truly did hate me—not because of the incredible sex, but because of the kind of man I was. The kind who knew the ends always justified the means.
The farmland should have been mine. I had thought about it—hell, I’d almost convinced myself I wanted it. It was a chance to build something bigger, something lasting—the perfect opportunity to feed people my way.
I had let doubt creep in, let the past whisper that I wasn’t meant to want more, and in the time it took me to get my head on straight, Elodie had swooped in, turning it into something I barely recognized .
My dream was muddied now—a dream that certainly didn’t include Tire fucking Mountain.
Stan was already set. He had Elodie keeping the farm afloat, and she was making something real out of it.
Me? The only thing tying me to this place was an inn I never wanted in the first place. My son’s happier, sure, but how long would that last? How long before this town started feeling too small, before he started asking questions I couldn’t answer?
Questions about why we stayed. About why I acted like this place was temporary, even though I’ve been here long enough that it shouldn’t feel that way anymore. About why, when I looked at Elodie, it felt like I was standing on the edge of something I didn’t know how to name.
How long before I got too damn comfortable?
That was the part that scared me the most, because I didn’t want to be comfortable. If the Army had taught me anything, it was that getting comfortable was how you started thinking you belonged somewhere. That was how you forgot what happened when it all got ripped away.
Deep down, I knew the only way to hold on to my sanity while keeping Levi in Star Harbor would be to move forward with acquiring the farmland.
Weeks ago, before things had gotten complicated with Elodie Darling, I’d made the call.
The course to make Stan an offer he couldn’t refuse was already set in motion.
My financial adviser and I had gone over the numbers—really took a look at what it would take to buy the farm from Stan and create the farm-to-table destination I had dreamed of.
We agreed that it was too risky to take on by myself, but that a solid venture capitalist was a plausible way to make the restaurant happen. He’d put me in touch with the owner of Tower Business Ventures, JP King, and I was eagerly awaiting his return phone call.
As Elodie disappeared into the bathroom, I watched her walk away, wondering why a pinch beneath my ribs wouldn’t go away.
At an emotional impasse, I surveyed the cottage. The air was still heavy with the scent of her—vanilla, sun-warmed skin, and the lingering trace of sweat from the heat between us. My body was loose, spent, my mind replaying how our fight had turned into the single hottest moment of my life.
The room was warm, thick with the quiet hum of contentment, the kind that felt dangerous in its ability to lull a man into believing, just for a second, that he belonged in a moment like that.
I walked toward the front door, smiling at the small hole the door handle had created in the wall when I’d shoved it open.
I opened the front door and let the evening’s darkness fold over me.
Outside, the night was deep, the farm silent save for the rhythmic chirping of crickets and the distant rustle of the wind through the trees and the waves lapping at the shore.
I opened my mouth to say goodbye when the smell hit me. Sharp. Acrid. Wrong.
Smoke.
Frowning, I lifted my head, sniffing the air. At first I thought I was imagining it. Maybe the scent had drifted in from a neighbor burning brush, but then Elodie’s face appeared from the bathroom, her brow furrowed. “Do you smell that?”
I held up a hand to her as I strained to listen for something. Anything.
Shouting.
I listened again to hear the faint crackle of fire eating through something dry. And then the glow—bright, violent orange licking at the inky darkness on the far edge of the farm.
Adrenaline hit me like a hammer to the chest. After zipping my jeans and shoving my feet into my boots, I was out the door in an instant.
Elodie was right behind me, pulling on a new shirt, her voice sharp with panic. “Oh shit, Callum?—”
We tore down the porch steps, running across the field, and that was when I saw it. Not just fire. A fucking inferno.
Flames devoured the old barn in hungry, snapping bursts of heat and light, throwing shadows across the field. Smoke billowed into the night sky, thick and choking, but it wasn’t the fire itself that had my stomach plummeting into freefall.
It was the figures silhouetted against the blaze.
Levi.
“Dad!” His voice was high, panicked, barely audible over the roar of the fire. He was coughing, one arm thrown over his face while trying to pull another kid away from the flames. They weren’t moving fast enough.
Jesus, they aren’t moving fast enough.
Every inch of my body went cold.
I didn’t think. I just ran faster.
The heat was suffocating as I tore across the field, my boots kicking up dirt. Smoke stung my eyes, filled my lungs, but I couldn’t slow down. I reached them just as Levi stumbled, dragging his friend with him, their faces pale and streaked with soot.
I grabbed Levi first, gripping his shoulders hard enough to bruise. “Are you hurt?”
He shook his head, eyes wide, terrified. “We—we tried to put it out, but—” He coughed, his whole body trembling. “I didn’t mean?—”
“Later.” I hauled him up, shoving him toward the field. “Run. Go to Elodie. Now.”
His friend was coughing, eyes watering, his legs barely holding him up. I threw his arm over my shoulder and half carried him, half dragged him away from the flames, feeling the heat licking at my back. Every muscle screamed, but I didn’t stop until I knew we were clear.
The second I let go, Levi was on me, gripping my arm, his breath coming in ragged, tearful gasps. “Dad, I?—”
“Shut up.” My voice came out raw, harsher than I intended, but I couldn’t think past the blood pounding in my ears. I turned, scanning the yard. “Elodie?”
“I’m here.” She was at my side, eyes wild with fear, hands trembling as she reached for Levi. “Jesus, are you okay?”
Sirens wailed in the distance, flashing red and blue cutting through the firelight. The cavalry had arrived, but it was too late to save the barn. The fire had already claimed it, the roof groaning as it collapsed inward, sending another plume of embers rising into the night.
Elodie flinched, tears welling in her eyes as she stared at the blazing inferno. I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached.
The fire department took over, shouting orders and dragging hoses across the field.
The air was thick with smoke, the scent of burning wood and charred metal heavy in my throat.
I stood frozen, staring at what was left of the barn, feeling the weight of what Levi had done settle like lead in my chest.
A figure stepped toward us. Brody came into view, his badge glinting in the firelight. His expression was grim. “I need to ask some questions.”
Levi’s whole body stiffened beside me. His breath came in short, choppy bursts, his face pale beneath the layer of soot streaking his skin. He looked up at me, then at Brody, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.
I could feel the weight of his panic, the way it sat on his chest like a stone, but that didn’t matter. He had to explain.
Brody shifted his weight, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his stance—something that wasn’t just a cop doing his job. It was the same thing I felt clawing at the inside of my ribs—the fear of what could have happened.
“Levi.” My voice came out rough, too sharp, but I didn’t have the patience to soften it. “Tell us exactly what the hell happened.”
Levi flinched but didn’t look away. His fingers clenched into fists at his sides. “We didn’t mean to—” He exhaled hard, his voice shaking. “We weren’t trying to start a fire. We just—” His hands lifted, then dropped helplessly. “We were just messing around.”