Chapter 24
CHLOE
Callum should have been home at least an hour ago, and I’ve been worried as hell about him ever since that fight.
It was tough to watch. The only other time I’ve seen him even close to that was in college, when he had that dirty cross-check on that asshole who made a comment about me. As soon as I saw him go after that Vegas player, I worried it may have happened again, but I refused to even go down that path.
It’s not about you, and even if it is, who cares? He loves you. It’s all that matters.
I repeat the words to myself as I spin on my heel and walk the same line I have been for the past thirty minutes. Back and forth and back again I go. Percy followed me for a solid five minutes before realizing I wasn’t playing a game, then he scampered off into the spare bedroom.
Honestly, that’s where I want to be right now, too—in bed. I want to be curled up next to my husband, my head on his chest as he tells me about the game. I don’t want to be up waiting and worrying, but here I am.
When another fifteen minutes go by, I’m just about ready to pick up my phone and call him to see where the hell he is when I hear it—a key in the door. I halt my pacing and hold my breath, ready to be told to go fuck myself, but he never comes inside.
I wait, then when I can’t anymore, I make my way to the door. Just as I reach for the handle, it’s pushed open, and I let out a loud yelp.
“What the—”
He freezes, eyes wide. Then he shakes his head, like he can’t tell if he’s awake or not.
“Clover?”
I nod, lifting my hand in a wave. “Hi.”
His brows furrow, his jaw tightening. “What are you doing here?”
It’s not exactly the welcome I was expecting, but I understand it all the same.
“I told you I was coming back.”
He huffs out a humorless laugh. “Forgive me if I didn’t believe you. You don’t exactly have the best track record with those words.”
I wince. “Okay, so I can see you’re mad. I—”
“Mad? Mad?!” I jump at his words, backing up as he stalks into the apartment, the door rattling against the frame when he slams it closed. “You’re fucking right I’m mad, Chloe! You left me—again! You cut off all communication—again! So yeah, I’m mad, though I think that’s putting it mildly.”
My hands shake as I brush a lock of hair out of my face. “I left a note.”
“Yeah, it was a real long one too.” He scoffs, dropping his bag to the floor and setting his hands on his hips.
“You know, for a writer, you’d think you’d have a few more words than I’ll be back and I promise.
But no, that’s all I got. Five words. Five simple, unexplained words as you just took off to—well, fuck.
I don’t know.” He throws his hands in the air. “Because you didn’t tell me!”
He’s right. I fucked up. Again. Am I ever going to learn my lesson? Am I ever going to learn that I need to communicate with him?
“I’m sorry,” I say simply. “You’re right. I should have called or texted. I just needed a few days to clear my head, and you said I could do that. You said I could think about what it is I want.”
He hangs his head, shaking it back and forth, then he sighs. I hate the pain in his gaze when he looks back up at me.
“I did say that, but I didn’t know it would mean you’d take off again. I… Fuck, I didn’t know where you were, Chloe. You were just gone again, and I didn’t know.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again, taking a step toward him because I don’t think I can stay away any longer, because I don’t want to stay away. “I was in Tennessee.”
“Tennessee? What were you doing there?” He nods. “Oh, Talia, right?”
“No. Well, yes, but I wasn’t there for her. I saw my parents.”
His eyes widen. “You did?”
I nod. “Yes. I thought a conversation with them, particularly my mother, might do me some good. As I’m sure you know, we have a long, complicated history, and I figured if I was looking for answers about my future, I should face my past first.”
He swallows. “And?”
“I learned my mother was married before she met my father.”
He rears his head back. “What? What are you talking about?”
I tell him about my mom’s first marriage…and how it fell apart, just like ours did. When I’m done, he seems like he’s calmed down a little, and I dare to take another step his way.
“So, as you can see, my mother and I have a lot more in common than I thought.”
“That’s…wow.” He squeezes the back of his neck, and I track the movement, paying extra attention to the cuts and bruises along his knuckles.
“Does it hurt?”
“Huh?” he asks.
I nod toward his hand. “Does your hand hurt? That fight was…rough.”
“You watched my game?”
“Of course I did. I haven’t missed one yet, and I wasn’t about to start now.”
His lips twitch. It’s subtle, but it’s there, and my shoulders relax an inch or two.
I take another step. “Does it hurt?”
“A little.”
“Are you going to get in trouble for it?”
“There’s a good chance I’m looking at a suspension.”
Another step. He notices.
I pause, and he tips his head to the side.
“Did you find it? Whatever you were looking for there, did you find it?”
I tilt my left hand back and forth. “Sort of. She helped shed light on things I’ve been struggling with for a long time, feelings I kept thinking I had no right to have. She helped me realize it’s okay, realize I’m allowed to not know myself and to keep searching for her.”
“And is that what you plan to do? Keep searching?”
“Yes.”
His shoulders drop, and fuck it, I cross the rest of the way to him. I don’t stop until I’m standing right in front of him. I tuck my finger under his chin, his stubble tickling me as I force his gaze upward.
“But I don’t want to do it alone. Not anymore.”
He gulps. “You…don’t?”
I shake my head. “No, and the worst part is, I don’t think I ever wanted to. I just didn’t know how to tell you that.”
Suddenly, he sags against me, and I struggle to hold his full weight, but I accept it anyway, wrapping my arms around him. I don’t know how I know it, but I know he’s crying, and I hate that he is. But I get it. I’m on the verge of tears myself.
I can’t cry, though. Not now. This isn’t about me. Not really.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly, and when he pulls away from me, his eyes are redder than I’ve seen before, his cheeks wet. I want to kiss all the hurt away, and I plan to. But first, I have some things I need to say to him.
“I was wrong to apply to that internship without telling you, and I was wrong before that too. I should have told you how I was feeling. I should have let you in and let you help me. I shouldn’t have tried to bury it and pretend it wasn’t happening.”
“Why didn’t you, Clover? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want to burden you with my problems. At first, it was because I felt like I was being silly. I had no real reason to feel the way I did. You treated me so well. You told me you loved me every chance you got. And you never, ever made me feel like I was less than. You were perfect.”
He shakes his head. “But I wasn’t. I wasn’t because I knew.
I fucking knew. I knew something was going on with you, knew you were slipping away.
I knew you weren’t truly happy, but I let you pretend.
I let you keep me at arm’s length because at least it meant I got to keep you.
I was as scared to rock the boat as you were, which means I’m just as guilty. ”
It breaks my heart that he thinks he has any blame in all of this, but maybe…maybe he’s right. A relationship is a two-way street, and we didn’t communicate what direction we were moving in, so we were never in the same lane. We fucked this up together, even if we were apart.
“I wish you had said something. I wish I had said something too. I feel like we wasted so much time by just…not talking,” he says, and I couldn’t agree more.
“We did, and I don’t ever want to do that again. I want to tell you everything, even when I don’t think you want to hear what I have to say.”
“I don’t think you could ever say something I don’t want to hear. You could read me the terms and conditions on the back of a receipt, and I’d still hang on to every word.”
I chuckle. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
“Then what do you mean, Clover? Talk to me. Tell me.”
I sigh. “I mean telling you things like when I’m unhappy.”
“Okay. I’m unhappy sometimes too. I would understand.”
“Come on, Callum. You can’t be serious. If I had come to you and said I was unhappy, how would you have reacted? And I want a serious answer. Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear. Dig deep. Be honest.”
He doesn’t say anything right away, and for the first time, I’m okay with that.
Then finally, he does.
“I would have wondered what I did to make you feel like that.”
“Exactly. That’s my whole point. My mother said something to me.
She said it’s hard to try to explain to someone you love that it’s not their fault you’re not happy.
And she’s right. If I had told you I wasn’t happy, you would have taken it personally, even if I had said it wasn’t your fault.
Because why wouldn’t you? You’re my partner.
We’re supposed to make each other feel good, and if that’s true, it must be something we’ve done wrong, right?
” I shake my head. “But that’s wrong. Sometimes people just don’t feel happy.
Sometimes they don’t understand themselves.
And that’s okay. I’m okay, just the way I am.
It’s okay that I don’t have it all figured out because I know the really, truly important stuff. ”
“And what’s that, Clover?”
I step back into him, placing a hand on his chest because I need to feel him in some way right now.
“That I love you, Callum.”
His eyes flare, and he opens his mouth, but I keep going because I need to say this.
“I love you. I have always loved you. I loved you when you sat next to me in college and called me Clover for the first time. I loved you when you stuck up for me at that game, and I loved you when I gave myself to you later that night. I didn’t say it then, but I should have.
I should have told you you’re it for me, too.
You always have been, and no matter where I’ve been in this world, that hasn’t changed.
I know I’ve hurt you many times over. I know I’ve probably made it hard to trust me, too.
But please—please—listen to me when I tell you this: there will never be a day in my life when I don’t love you.
And there will never, ever be a single second where I am not wholly and completely yours.
I love you, Callum, and I’m sorry if I haven’t said that enough, but if you’ll let me, I’ll tell you every day for the rest of our lives. ”
He doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. For a moment, I worry I’m too late, worry I’ve broken him too many times, fucked this up beyond repair, and lost the one person who means everything to me.
Then, he says, “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that, Clover.”
And he kisses me. It’s soft and slow, then hard and fast. It’s messy and uncoordinated as we pull at each other until I’m not sure where the other starts and ends, and I’m okay with that.
For the first time, I truly am. Even though I still have a lot of work to do with myself, I know the one thing that doesn’t need work is how I feel about the man kissing me right now.
When we finally break apart, we’re both gasping for air, and I’ve never been so happy to struggle to breathe before.
“I love you, Chloe Keller.”
I smile. “And I love you, Callum Keller.”
“That has a nice little ring to it, huh?”
I laugh, and he swallows the sound with his lips.
At some point, we come up for air, and his hand goes right to my left ring finger.
“I missed seeing this on you, you know.”
I smile, looking down at the gorgeous 2-carat set that was my gift on our five-year wedding anniversary. “I missed wearing it. I’m never taking it off again.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”
Then he’s kissing me again.
I’m not sure what’s next for us. I still have work to do on myself, and we have a hell of a lot we need to work through together, too.
Maybe we live apart for a while. Maybe we can pick up right where we were before that damn job offer.
Or maybe…maybe we do one even better and we come back from this stronger than we’ve ever been.
Whatever we decide, we’re going to do it together.
Forever.