Chapter 5
CALLIE
Iwatch his truck pull away through the shop window.
My hand is still warm where I touched his arm. The admission hangs in the air. You're not imagining it.
He said it. Finally said it. Then walked out anyway.
I lock the door and lean against it. The shop is too quiet. Too empty. I should finish cleaning. Should go home. Should do anything except stand here replaying the last ten minutes.
I do it anyway.
The way he looked at me when he said it doesn't matter what I want. The careful distance he maintained even while admitting the truth. The hurt in his eyes when he said goodbye.
My phone buzzes.
Luke: You still at the shop?
I close my eyes. Of course. Of course Luke would text right now.
Me: Just closing up.
Luke: Want company? I can swing by.
The last thing I need is my brother showing up and reading my face. Reading the frustration and anger and hurt that I can't quite hide.
Me: I'm good. Long day. Heading home soon.
Luke: Alright. Text me when you're back safe.
I pocket the phone and force myself to move. I finish wiping tables, count the register, and box up the leftover donuts for the homeless shelter. Normal tasks. Normal routine.
Nothing feels normal.
By the time I lock up and walk to my car, it's past eight. The street is quiet. Most shops are dark. I drive home on autopilot, my mind somewhere else entirely.
Ethan's cabin is fifteen minutes outside town. I know because Luke told me once. Described the five acres and the garden and the quiet. Said it was exactly what Ethan needed after the military. After everything.
I'm halfway home when I realize I'm driving in the wrong direction.
Toward the highway. Toward the turnoff that leads to Ethan's place.
I should turn around. Should go home and sleep and let this go. He made his choice. He's leaving. Creating distance. Doing what he thinks is right.
I keep driving.
Luke would kill me if he knew. Would ask what the hell I'm thinking showing up at Ethan's cabin at night. He would see right through any excuse I tried to make.
Good thing Luke isn't here.
I find the turnoff Luke described. A dirt road cutting through trees. I follow it for a mile until I see a cabin set back from the road. Lights are on inside. Ethan's truck is in the driveway.
I park beside it and sit there with the engine running. This is stupid. This is the definition of stupid. He told me goodbye, and told me there can't be a this.
I turn off the engine and get out.
The porch steps creak under my feet. I knock before I can change my mind.
Footsteps inside. The door opens.
Ethan stands there in jeans and a t-shirt, hair damp like he just showered. His eyes widen when he sees me.
"Callie."
"I need to talk to you."
"We already talked."
"No. You talked. You said your piece and walked out. Now it's my turn."
He doesn't move, doesn't invite me in, just stands there blocking the doorway with his jaw tight and his shoulders tense.
"You shouldn't be here," he says.
"Probably not. But I am."
"Luke—"
"Isn't here. It's just us."
Something flickers across his face. Fear maybe. Or want. Hard to tell in the porch light.
"Please," I say quietly. "Just let me say what I came to say."
He steps back. Not an invitation exactly, but not a refusal either. I walk past him into the cabin.
It's smaller than I expected. One room that functions as kitchen and living area. A hallway leading to what I assume is a bedroom. Everything is neat and spare. No clutter. No personal touches beyond a few books on a shelf and a laptop on the table.
It feels like Ethan. Controlled and contained.
"Nice place," I say.
"You didn't drive out here to compliment my cabin."
"No." I turn to face him. "I came because you're running and I need to know why."
"I told you why."
"You said it's because of Luke. Because you don't want to betray his trust." I take a step closer. "But that's not the whole truth, is it?"
Ethan's jaw tightens. "What do you want me to say?"
"I want you to tell me what you're afraid of."
"I'm not afraid."
"You are, you're terrified. And it's not just about Luke."
He looks away. Out the window into the darkness. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't I?" Another step. We're close now. Close enough that I can see the tension in his shoulders. The way his hands curl into fists. "I think you're afraid that if you let yourself want this, want me, you won't be able to stop. And that scares you more than Luke's reaction ever could."
"Callie."
"Tell me I'm wrong."
He doesn't. He can't.
The silence stretches. I wait.
"You are wrong," he finally says, but his voice lacks conviction.
"Prove it."
"How?"
"Look at me and tell me you don't want this. Tell me leaving has nothing to do with how you feel. Tell me any of it and I'll leave. I'll go home and pretend this conversation never happened."
He turns. Our eyes meet. The distance between us feels like miles and inches at the same time.
"I can't do that," he says quietly.
"Why not?"
"Because you're right."
The admission lands like a physical thing. Heavy. Real.
I close the remaining distance between us. "Then stop running."
"It's not that simple."
"It is. You're just making it complicated."
"Luke trusts me."
"Luke trusts both of us. That doesn't mean we owe him control over our lives."
"It's not about control."
"Then what's it about?"
Ethan runs a hand through his hair. The gesture is frustrated. Tired. "He's my best friend. He's been there through everything. When I came back from Afghanistan, when I didn't know how to function in the real world, he gave me a reason to stay. To build something here."
"And you think being with me would destroy that?"
"I think it would change things. Make things complicated."
"Things are already complicated. Pretending they're not doesn't change that."
He's quiet for a long moment. Then: "What do you want from me, Callie?"
"I want you to stop hiding behind Luke. Stop using him as an excuse to keep me at arm's length."
"I'm not hiding."
"You are. You have been since the day we met."
"That's not true."
"Isn't it?" I step closer. We're almost touching now. "Every time we're in the same room, you find a reason to leave. Every conversation ends with you pulling away. You won't even look at me half the time."
"I look at you."
"Not like this. Not when it's just us."
His eyes are on mine now. Dark and intense. I can see the war happening behind them. The want and the restraint and the fear all tangled together.
"This is a bad idea," he says.
"Probably."
"You should go."
"I will. After you answer one question."
"What question?"
I reach up and put my hand on his chest. Feel his heart beating fast under my palm. "Do you want me to go?"
His hand comes up, and covers mine. He holds it against his chest. "No."
The word is barely a whisper, but it's enough.
I rise on my toes, and close the final distance. I stop just before my lips touch his.
"Then don't make me," I breathe.
For one perfect second, nothing happens. We just stand there on the edge of something neither of us can take back.
Then Ethan moves.
His hand slides into my hair, and tilts my head back. His mouth hovers over mine. He’s so close I can feel his breath.
"Callie." My name is a warning. A plea.
"I know."
"We can't."
"I know."
"Luke—"
"Isn't here."
His grip tightens. I feel the tremor run through him. The last thread of control starting to fray.
My phone rings.
The sound cuts through the moment like a knife. We both freeze.
Ethan steps back, and lets go of my hair. He puts distance between us with the kind of precision that makes my chest ache.
I pull out my phone with shaking hands. Look at the screen.
Luke.
Of course it's Luke.
I stare at his name. Let it ring once. Twice. Three times.
"Answer it," Ethan says quietly.
"Ethan—"
"Answer it, Callie."
I swipe to accept. "Hey."
"Hey. You home yet?" Luke sounds relaxed. Normal. No idea what he just interrupted.
"Almost. Just stopped for gas."
The lie comes easily. Too easily.
"Alright. Just checking. I'm headed to bed. Long day."
"Yeah. Me too."
"Sleep well, sis."
"You too."
I hang up. Look at Ethan. He's watching me with an expression I can't quite read.
"You lied to him," he says.
"I didn't want to explain."
"Explain what? That you're at my cabin? That we were about to—" He stops. Shakes his head. "This is exactly why we can't do this."
"Because we'd have to lie?"
"Because we'd have to lie," he confirms. "And I'm not going to lie to Luke. Not about this. Not about you."
The anger rises fast and hot. "So what? You're just going to leave? Run to Denver and pretend this doesn't exist?"
"That's the plan."
"That's a coward's plan."
His jaw tightens. "Maybe. But it's the right one."
"For who?"
"For everyone."
"Not for me. Not for you either if you'd be honest for two seconds."
"I am being honest. This thing between us, it's going to hurt people. It's going to hurt Luke."
"You don't know that."
"I do. You didn't see his face this morning at breakfast. The way he talked about trusting me with you. The way he said I'm the kind of guy he'd want around his sister."
The words land like stones. I can picture it. Luke sitting across from Ethan, coffee in hand, completely oblivious to what's actually happening between us.
"He doesn't own me," I say quietly.
"I know that."
"Then why does it matter what he wants?"
"Because he's my friend. Because his opinion matters. Because I can't look him in the eye knowing I'm going behind his back."
"So don't go behind his back. Tell him."
Ethan laughs. It's a bitter sound. "Tell him what? That I want his sister? That I've wanted her for months and I'm barely holding it together?"
"Yes. Exactly that."
"And then what? He gives us his blessing? We all live happily ever after?"
"Maybe. Or maybe he's angry at first but gets over it. Or maybe he's fine with it and you've been torturing yourself for nothing."
"You really think he'd be fine with it?"
I don't answer. I can't answer honestly.
Ethan nods like I just proved his point. "That's what I thought."
"So your solution is to leave. To put three weeks and hundreds of miles between us and hope that makes it go away."
"It's not going to go away. I know that." He meets my eyes. "But maybe it'll be easier. Maybe the distance will help us both think clearly."
"I'm thinking clearly right now."
"No, you're not. Neither of us is. If we were, you wouldn't be here."
"Maybe I don't want to think clearly. Maybe I'm tired of doing the right thing all the time."
"Callie."
"Don't." I hold up a hand. "Don't say my name like that. Like I'm some problem you need to solve."
"You're not a problem."
"Then what am I?"
He's quiet for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is rough. "You're everything I want and nothing I can have."
The honesty of it steals my breath.
"Ethan."
"You should go."
"I don't want to."
"I know. But you should anyway."
We stand there looking at each other. All the things we're not saying hang in the air between us. Heavy. Impossible.
Finally, I move toward the door. Stop with my hand on the knob.
"For what it's worth," I say without turning around. "I think you're wrong about Luke. About all of it."
"Maybe, but I can't take that risk."
I nod and open the door. The night air hits my face, it’s cool and sharp.
"Callie." Ethan's voice stops me. "The delivery on Memorial Day, you'll need help loading the truck."
"I'll figure it out."
"Let me help. Before I leave."
I turn to look at him. "Why?"
"Because I said I would. Because Luke's counting on it. Because—" He stops.
"Because what?"
"Because I want to see you one more time. Even if I shouldn't."
The admission hurts more than his earlier rejections. There's something final about it. Something that sounds like goodbye in a way his words at the shop didn't.
"Sunday," I say. "Five AM."
"I'll be there."
I walk to my car without looking back. Drive away with his cabin shrinking in the rearview mirror. My hands are steady on the wheel even though everything inside me is shaking.
By the time I get home, it's past ten. My apartment is dark and cold. I don't turn on any lights. Just go straight to bed and lie there staring at the ceiling.
My phone is on the nightstand. Silent.
I almost kissed him. We were seconds away from crossing the line we've been dancing around for months. And then Luke called, and reminded us both why we can't have this.
I roll over and bury my face in the pillow. Tomorrow I'll be fine. Tomorrow I'll go back to work and focus on the business and pretend tonight never happened.
Tonight I let myself feel everything. The want and the frustration and the anger at Luke for being a barrier he doesn't even know he's creating.
My phone buzzes.
I grab it without thinking. Hope and dread mixing in my chest.
Ethan: Drive safe.
Two words. That's all. But they mean he's thinking about me. Worried about me. Can't let go any more than I can.
Me: I'm home.
Ethan: Good.
The conversation dies there. I wait for more. Nothing comes.
I set the phone down and close my eyes. Sunday morning I'll see him again. Help him load twenty-five dozen donuts into his truck. Stand next to him and pretend my hands aren't itching to touch him.
And then he'll leave, go to Denver, and create the distance he thinks we need.
I'll be here. Running my shop. Making donuts. Missing someone I never actually had.
The thought sits in my chest like a weight. Heavy and unmovable.
This isn't over. Ethan thinks leaving will solve something, and put things back to how they were before.
But you can't unknow something. Can't unfeel what's already been felt. Can't take back admissions made in the darkness of a cabin with no witnesses except the truth.
He wants me. I want him. And Luke stands between us whether he knows it or not.
Something has to give.
I just hope it's not me.