Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Callie
The sharp chime of a text, and then another, rapid-fire, pierces the silence. Groaning, I reach out blindly, my fingers brushing nothing but cool sheets where Luke’s warmth should be.
The happiness that curves my lips is immediate, as is the sultry groan that slips out for a completely different reason.
Every inch of me hums. I’ve never felt so sated and deliciously used.
Between my thighs is tender, my lips still swollen from his kisses.
I’ve never desired a man as much as I did Luke last night.
Dragging in a slow breath and lazily letting out, I stare at the ceiling for a beat.
Never in a million lifetimes did I ever think this would happen.
But last night? It wasn’t the same as before.
We were kids then. Young and inexperienced.
This was so much more. Luke understood what I needed without being told.
And there’s that flare of green thinking about the other women he’s been with and everything he’s learned in the years we’ve been apart.
My phone pings again. Then again. Whoever it is clearly doesn’t believe in letting a girl bask in the afterglow.
“Alright, alright,” I mutter, voice scratchy as I roll over and fumble for the phone, knocking an empty water bottle off the nightstand in the process, which causes me to grin. Hydration wasn’t optional last night. It was a survival tactic.
The screen lights up with a string of messages from Nikki, each one more dramatic than the last.
Nikki:
I was just at the café.
Harper came in sobbing.
Something about Kirk.
She asked about you.
My stomach twists so hard it nearly knocks the air from my lungs. For a second, I sit there, staring at the words as the glow from my phone feels like it’s burning a hole through my palm.
It’s been three days since Luke came for dinner.
Other than for work, we’ve been inseparable, spending any spare moment we could catching up for the lost years.
When we had to be apart, it was stolen lunches, teasing texts, and scorching looks anytime we crossed paths in public.
Frankly, I'm surprised the gossip mill isn't running rampant with speculation about our wedding plans.
And now this. It’s time to face up to the fact that I screwed up.
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and type a quick response with stiff fingers.
Me:
Where is she now?
The reply comes fast.
Bakery. Alone.
Anna had to run an errand. I had to go to work.
A glance at the clock confirms it’s 7:45 a.m. The library doesn’t open until nine. I’ve got time. I only hope she’ll forgive me for treating her so horribly.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m in jeans and my favorite sweater, hair twisted into a messy bun that feels more frazzled than cute. My pulse thuds in my ears as I push open the door to Sweet as Sin. The bell overhead jingles cheerfully, a cruel contrast to the heavy tension that meets me like a wall.
Through the front window, I’d seen Harper standing at the kitchen counter, shoulders hunched, kneading dough like it was responsible for every bad thing in her life. Up close, it’s worse. There’s a fragility to her posture that causes me pain.
I did this.
“We’re not open yet,” she calls without looking up, her voice raw from crying.
“It’s me.” The door quietly clicks shut behind me, and I flip the lock and ensure the 'Closed' sign is in place. No busy bodies are allowed today.
Her flour-dusted hands still mid-motion, fingers buried in the soft dough. Slowly, as though afraid, she raises her head, eyes red and puffy, nose not much better, cheeks streaked with tears.
Damn.
“Callie?” Her voice cracks, small and uncertain, like she doesn’t trust that I’m really here.
“Nikki texted me.” I take a few steps toward her, and the familiar scent of cinnamon and sugar wraps around me like a memory, a friend I’ve missed too much, like my best friend, who I let down. My cheeks burn with shame. “She said you were upset.”
Harper wipes her hands on her apron, leaving streaks of flour across the fabric. “I didn't think you'd come.”
“Why wouldn't I?” The question hangs between us, loaded with all the hurt and misunderstandings of the past months.
She gives a humorless laugh. “Maybe because I've been the worst friend in the history of friends?”
“You? Haper, it’s my fault. I’m so sorry.” I move closer, leaning against the counter, afraid she’ll reject me if I get any closer, when all I want to do is hug my friend. “What happened? Did Kirk do something?”
Her face crumples at the mention of his name, fresh tears spilling. “He's cheating on me,” she whispers, the words broken and raw. “Just like he did to you.”
Something cold settles in my stomach. Despite everything, despite the hurt Kirk caused me, I never wanted Harper to experience that pain. “How do you know?”
“I found texts on his phone.” She grabs a tissue from beneath the counter and dabs at her eyes. “From someone named Kimberlee, with two e’s instead of a y. They've been seeing each other for weeks. Maybe longer.”
“Kimberlee? From Juniper?” I vaguely recall Kirk mentioning a client from the neighboring town when we were together. That fucking asshole. My mind races, piecing together a timeline that suddenly makes a sickening kind of sense.
Harper nods miserably. “You were right about him all along. I was just too stupid to see it.”
“You're not stupid.” Old protective instincts kick in despite everything that’s happened between us. “Kirk is really good at making you believe what he wants you to believe.”
She looks up at me, her anguish heartbreaking. “How can you be so nice to me right now? After everything I did?”
I sigh, running a hand over my face. “I'm starting to think I don't have the whole story.” I’m thinking he purposely led me to believe he’d cheated on me with my best friend.
“What do you mean?”
“I saw you with Kirk at Pete's,” I explain. A couple of weeks before we broke up. You two looked intimate. I assumed you were having an affair.”
Harper's eyes widen. “No! God, no, Callie. I would never do that to you.” She takes a shaky breath.
“That day at Pete's,” she explains, her voice breaking, “he was telling me he was planning to break up with you. He made it sound like you were holding him back, like you two had already drifted so far apart that the breakup was just a formality.” She angrily wipes at her tears.
“And I believed him. Jesus. Then, after you two ended it, he waited exactly three weeks before starting to come around the bakery more.
Just long enough not to seem obvious, but now I realize he'd been planning it all along.
He'd say things like “Callie never really understood me.” And “You get me in a way she never did.” And I fell for every word. God, I'm such an idiot.”
The pieces tumble into place. “All while he was actually seeing this Kimberlee on the side?”
Harper nods. “I feel so stupid, Callie. I let him come between us. I lost my best friend because I believed his lies.”
The anger I've been holding onto for months started to dissipate a few days ago, after my conversation with Luke. Now, the last remnants of it finally disappear, replaced by a bone-deep weariness. “We both made mistakes,” I concede. “I should have talked to you instead of jumping to conclusions.”
“No, this is on me,” she insists. “I knew how much you cared about Kirk, even if things weren't perfect. I should have come to you first, asked for your side of the story.” She swipes at her tears again. “And then there's Luke.”
My pulse quickens at the mention of his name. “What about Luke?”
Harper gives me a watery smile. “I was so selfish, Callie.
I knew he was leaving for Chicago, and instead of supporting what could have been something special between the two of you, I made you choose.
I've watched you date guys who never measured up. Not a single one of them looked at you like my brother did.”
Heat rises to my cheeks. “I don't know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do.” Her smile turns knowing. “You've had feelings for Luke since we were teenagers. And he's always had a soft spot for you, too.”
I think about denying it, but what's the point? “That was a lifetime ago.”
“I'm the reason you two never got a chance back then, and I've regretted it ever since.” She sighs, coming around the counter to sit on one of the stools next to me.
We swivel so we’re facing each other, our knees inches apart.
“After that night, when you and Luke...” She trails off, looking uncomfortable.
“I knew something had happened between you two. Before he left, I caught him looking at a picture of you and me on my dresser. He had the saddest look in his eyes. And then you were deeply hurt in the days that followed. The couple of times you came to the house, I saw how you glanced over to his room, waiting for him to appear.”
“You made me choose,” I say quietly. “Between being your friend and being with him.”
Harper nods, her cheeks red, her eyes downcast. “I was scared, Callie. I overheard Luke and Dad talking. I found out about the cars long before Dad did. I should have warned Luke. I didn’t know Dad was going to send him to Chicago.
And I didn’t want you to pine over him. I didn’t think that was fair. To either of you.”
“So, you made sure it never happened.”
“I did.” Her voice breaks. “And then I lost you anyway, years later, because of Kirk.” She reaches for my hand. “I'm so sorry. For all of it.”
I take my hand, feeling the warmth of her familiar touch. How many times had we held hands like this growing up? Running through sprinklers, crossing the street to school, and comforting each other through breakups and family fights.
“I'm sorry too,” I whisper. “For not giving you a chance to explain. For believing the worst.”