Chapter 15
Sloane stepped into the tiny studio apartment, her eyes immediately drawn to the one bed against the far wall. Her heart fluttered as she remembered waking up in Callum’s strong arms this morning, though she quickly pushed the thought away.
Because thinking about that was going to lead to thinking about this afternoon’s kiss, and who knew what that would lead to thinking about.
Callum moved past her, his broad shoulders nearly brushing the doorframe as he entered.
“Let’s do a quick sweep,” he said, his deep voice quiet but authoritative.
Sloane nodded, watching as he methodically checked each corner of the small space. His movements were precise, practiced. She could see why he was so good at his job.
“We’re secure,” Callum announced after a few minutes. He turned his attention to the door, engaging multiple locks with a series of metallic clicks. “We should be safe here.”
“It’s…cozy,” Sloane offered, trying to keep her voice light despite the tension coiling in her stomach. She perched on the edge of the bed, painfully aware of its presence.
Callum’s lips quirked in a half smile. “That’s one word for it. Lincoln wasn’t kidding when he said it was small.”
The tiny kitchen took up one corner of the studio apartment—stove, fridge, sink, and a small two-top table. A door in another corner presumably led to the bathroom. Under the window was a bookshelf and a single sitting chair. The opposite end of the room held the bed and a wardrobe that served as a closet.
That was it.
Sloane’s gaze flickered between Callum and the bed. Would he want them to share it again tonight? God, she hoped so. The thought sent a shiver of anticipation through her, which she quickly tried to suppress.
“You okay?” Callum asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied her.
“Fine,” Sloane said quickly, perhaps too quickly. “Just…processing everything, I guess.”
Callum nodded, his expression softening. “I know it’s a lot. But we’re safe here, Sloane. It’s okay to relax.”
He thought she was worried, which was so much more reasonable than her acting all goosey because she was hoping to wake up in his arms again.
As he spoke, Callum moved closer, sitting beside her on the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight, and she was acutely aware of the heat radiating from his body. She wanted to lean into him, to feel his arms around her right now, but she held herself still.
“Thank you,” she murmured, meeting his eyes. “For everything.”
For a moment, the air between them seemed to crackle with unspoken tension. Her heart raced, wondering if he might kiss her again. But instead, he stood back up, clearing his throat.
“We should probably get settled—food and rest,” he said, his voice a little gruff. “It’s been a long day.”
She nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. Callum busied himself with checking the windows one more time.
He let out a sigh. “No TV, no internet. I’m afraid you’re going to be bored.”
She shook her head, pointing at the bookshelf under the window. “At least there are some books.”
He followed her gaze and grimaced. “I wouldn’t get too excited. They look like they’re mostly textbooks.”
But she was already crossing the room, trailing her fingers over the spines. Her breath caught as she pulled out a thick volume. “Art history,” she breathed, a smile lighting up her face.
“You like art?” Callum asked, surprise evident in his voice.
She nodded, clutching the book to her chest. “My mother and I used to spend hours looking through art books together. I’m not an artist myself, but I love digging into and understanding different mediums and perspectives and theories. At one time, I thought I might major in art history in college.”
His eyes softened. “Nothing wrong with studying what you love.”
“Visiting the Louvre was what I was most excited about when I found out Marissa and I would be going to Paris.” Her smile faltered, and she set the book down. “As you know, that didn’t exactly work out.”
“Maybe another time.”
The chances of William paying for her to go to Paris again were slim to none. Same with her having the money for it herself. “Yeah, maybe.”
Callum leaned against the wall, his brow furrowed. “So, you didn’t study art history in college. What did you major in instead?”
Sloane bit her lip, avoiding his gaze. “Actually, I…I didn’t go to college. It just didn’t work out.”
She left out the painful truth—she could barely survive on what the Gettys paid her. Affording classes at any of the local universities was out of the question. Not that they would’ve allowed it even if she could afford it.
“Hey,” he said gently, moving closer. “You’re still young, Sloane. There’s plenty of time for college if that’s what you want.”
She wished it were that simple. She forced a smile. “Yeah. Maybe.”
Her stomach growled, interrupting her thoughts. She placed a hand over her midsection, embarrassed.
He chuckled. “I guess that’s our cue to find some dinner. Let’s see what we’ve got to work with.”
They made their way to the tiny kitchenette, rummaging through the sparse cabinets. Sloane’s eyes lit up when she spotted a box of spaghetti and a jar of sauce.
“How about pasta?” she suggested, holding up the items.
“Sounds perfect,” Callum agreed, already filling a pot with water.
As they worked side by side in the cramped space, Sloane felt a warmth spreading through her chest. It was such a simple, domestic act, but it felt intimate in a way she’d never experienced before. She wanted to explain to him what she was feeling, but he’d probably just think she was ridiculous.
Once the meal was ready, they settled at the small table, their knees brushing underneath. Callum twirled a forkful of spaghetti and grinned sheepishly.
“I know it’s not exactly gourmet,” he said. “Probably not what you’re used to back home.”
She took a bite, savoring the simple flavors. “Actually,” she replied without thinking, “this is almost better than what I normally eat at home.”
His fork paused halfway to his mouth, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean? I thought… Well, with your family’s wealth, I assumed you’d have personal chefs or something.”
Sloane felt her cheeks grow warm. She hadn’t meant to reveal so much. “Oh, um, it’s not like that. I…I actually buy my own food separately.”
“Why’s that?” His tone was gentle but curious.
Sloane pushed her pasta around her plate, debating how much to share. She didn’t want to lie to him, but she also couldn’t bear to see pity in his eyes if he knew the whole truth.
Or, even worse, disgust . He worked in law enforcement after all. Knowing she was basically a criminal was going to taint everything he thought of her.
“I just… I prefer to handle my own meals,” she said carefully. “It works out better for everyone that way. I buy whatever’s least expensive, make do with what I can afford.”
Callum’s expression was a mix of confusion and concern. “But surely your family?—”
“It’s fine, really,” Sloane interrupted, forcing a smile. “This arrangement, it works for both me and my family. Let’s just enjoy our meal, okay?”
The spaghetti suddenly felt like lead in her stomach as she realized just how far removed her reality was from the life Callum must have imagined her to have.
She cleared her throat, desperate to change the subject. “So, um, tell me more about Oak River.”
“Oak Creek,” he corrected, a small smile playing at his lips. “You really want me to talk more about that? Aren’t you bored after everything I told you yesterday while we were walking?”
Sloane felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I… Well, to be honest, I was only half listening,” she admitted. “I was so focused on just putting one foot in front of the other. But I’d really like to know more about your life there.”
His eyes lit up, and he leaned back in his chair. “Well, it’s absolutely beautiful, for starters. We’re right near the Teton Mountains in Wyoming. The scenery is breathtaking.”
Sloane hung on his every word.
“There’s so much to do outdoors,” he continued. “Hiking, skiing, rock-climbing. I spend a lot of time fishing myself.”
“That sounds amazing.” She found herself transported—could almost smell the crisp mountain air, feel the sun on her face.
“The town itself is pretty special too,” Callum said. “Quaint, you know? Exactly what you think of when you picture a small town in the mountains. There’s this great little place called the Frontier Diner where I have breakfast a few times a week. And Fancy Pants bakery? They make the most incredible pastries you’ve ever tasted.”
Sloane’s mouth watered at the thought. When was the last time she’d had a really good pastry?
“My favorite spot is probably the Eagle’s Nest,” Callum went on, chuckling. “It’s a pub where most of the town ends up at some point or another during the week. They’re famous for this drink called an Electric Smurf. Bright blue and guaranteed to cause trouble.”
Sloane couldn’t help but laugh. “Electric Smurf? That sounds dangerous.”
“Oh, it is,” Callum agreed, his eyes twinkling. “But it’s all part of the charm. The people in Oak Creek have really become like family to me. Especially since my wife died.”
He’d told her he wasn’t married yesterday, but she hadn’t known it was because he was a widower. “I’m so sorry.”
Callum nodded, his smile turning wistful. “Yeah. It’s been seven years since she passed. Oak Creek has sort of become my family now. They make sure I’m not alone—or at least, make sure I know I don’t have to be alone if I don’t want to be.”
Sloane felt a pang in her chest, both for Callum’s loss and for the sense of community she’d never known. “It sounds wonderful,” she said quietly. “All of it. Would you…would you mind telling me more about her? Your wife?”
Callum’s eyes softened, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Her name was Amelia,” he said, his voice warm with memory. “We were married for five years.”
“Did you have any children?” Sloane asked, her heart quickening.
“No, we didn’t. We talked about it, and actually…” He faded off, something bitter passing in his eyes. “No. No kids.”
“What did she do for a living?”
“She was a high school drama teacher,” Callum replied. “Always singing show tunes, loudly but not well.”
Sloane chuckled at that. “What did she look like?”
She should probably stop asking questions, but she couldn’t help it.
“Tall, blonde,” he said, gaze distant. “Green eyes that lit up when she laughed.”
Sloane’s stomach twisted. Tall and blonde–the opposite of her petite, dark-haired self. Sloane definitely wasn’t Callum’s type.
“She sounds lovely,” she managed, forcing a smile.
As Callum continued talking, Sloane’s mind wandered. Would he ever consider marrying again? The thought startled her. Why was she even wondering about that? It wasn’t as if she and Callum were involved. Sure, there had been that kiss earlier, but that meant nothing.
She shook her head slightly, trying to focus on Callum’s words instead of her racing thoughts. Romance had no place between them. They were just two people thrown together by circumstance, nothing more.
She leaned forward, her curiosity getting the better of her. “What was Amelia like? As a person, I mean.”
“She was…vibrant. Joyous and loud, always filling a room with her laughter.” He smiled, lost in memory. “Amelia had opinions on everything and wasn’t afraid to share them. Bold as brass, that woman.”
Sloane watched, captivated, as Callum continued. “But she was always kind, you know? Had a way of standing up for what she believed in without tearing others down. Didn’t take any shit from anybody, though.”
As he spoke, Sloane felt a weight settling in her chest. She could see how much he had loved Amelia— still loved her. The woman he described was vibrant, confident, outspoken—everything Sloane wasn’t. There was zero chance Callum would ever be truly attracted to Sloane when she was everything Amelia wasn’t.
“She sounds amazing,” Sloane said softly, forcing herself to meet Callum’s gaze. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did she die?”
Callum’s smile faded. “Pancreatic cancer. Hardest thing I’ve ever been through. I spent my entire life training to face danger and conquer evil, yet nothing prepared me for the one fight I couldn’t win—cancer.”
Sloane’s heart ached for him. Without thinking, she reached out and touched his hand. “I’m so sorry. How long did you have between diagnosis and when she…?”
Immediately, Callum’s expression shuttered. He pulled his hand away, standing abruptly. “We should get cleaned up,” he said, his tone clipped. “It’s late. Probably time to get ready for bed.”
Sloane felt as if she’d been doused with cold water. “Callum, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to?—”
“It’s fine,” he cut her off, not meeting her eyes. “Just… Let’s call it a night, okay? You do whatever you need in the bathroom. I’ll get the dishes cleared.”
As he turned away, she sat frozen, realizing she’d pushed too far and possibly damaged the fragile connection between them.
She slipped into the bathroom, her heart heavy. She leaned against the door, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. The small space smelled of generic soap and bleach—a stark contrast to the musty odor of last night’s cheap motel.
Opening her eyes, she surveyed the room. At least this place had actual toiletries—shampoo, lotion. Her gaze landed on a pair of new toothbrushes still in their packaging. She grabbed one and ripped it open.
As she brushed her teeth, a sudden realization hit her. How long had it been since she’d properly cleaned her teeth? Her cheeks flushed as she remembered that kiss—how bad had her breath been?
It couldn’t have been that bad, right? The kiss had seemed… passionate . Her heart fluttered at the memory. Would there be more kisses? The thought both thrilled and terrified her. But it wasn’t likely there’d be more kisses now. Not after she’d just bungled the conversation about Amelia.
Not after it was obvious he was still in love with his dead wife.
She rinsed the toothbrush. She wanted to say it was all for the best, but she wasn’t going to lie to herself. She wanted more kisses with Callum.
Wanted more everything with Callum.
That thought invaded her mind the whole time she was in the shower, even though she kept trying to push it away. When she came out of the bathroom, she found him arranging a blanket and pillow on the floor.
“What are you doing?”
He glanced up, his expression guarded. “Getting ready to sleep.”
“You don’t have to sleep on the floor,” she said quickly. “You can…you can sleep in the bed with me. Like last night.”
He hesitated, frowning. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Please?” Sloane hated how needy she sounded, but she pressed on. “Having you there helped me sleep. I felt safe.”
After a long moment, he nodded.
“Okay,” he said, but his tone was gruff. “Go ahead and get in bed. I’m going to take a shower.”
He brushed past her, and she crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. As she listened to the shower running, a lump formed in her throat.
Gone was the rapport that had been between them when they’d arrived at the safe house. She prayed that somehow she hadn’t irreparably damaged whatever was growing between her and Callum.
She felt more alone now than ever.