23. Sienna
TWENTY-THREE
Sienna
Through every storm, through every sound
Sienna’s Brownstone
10:11 PM
I gasp as Callum's lips crash against mine, his body pressing me back against the kitchen counter. My hands grasp at his shoulders, feeling the solid muscle beneath his shirt.
"Fuck, I've missed you," he growls against my neck, his stubble rough on my skin.
Heat floods through me at his words, at the raw need in his voice. I arch into him, craving more contact. "I've missed you too. So much."
His hands slide down to grip my ass, lifting me easily onto the counter. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him flush against me. Even through our clothes, I can feel how hard he is.
Callum's mouth returns to mine, his tongue sweeping inside as his hips grind against me. I moan, my fingers tangling in his hair.
"I need you," I pant when we break apart. "Please, Cal."
He pulls back just enough to yank my shirt over my head. His eyes darken as they roam over my body. "You're so fucking beautiful, Si."
I flush at the hunger in his gaze. Tugging at the hem of his shirt, I whisper, "Your turn."
Callum strips it off in one fluid motion. I run my hands over his chest, tracing the now-familiar lines of his tattoos. He shivers under my touch.
"Bedroom," I manage to say. "Now."
He doesn't need to be told twice. Callum lifts me easily, my legs still locked around his waist. As he carries me down the hall, I trail kisses along his neck, nipping at his pulse point.
The moment we reach the bed, Callum lays me down and covers my body with his. His weight on top of me feels so right, like coming home after years away. I arch up, desperate for more contact.
"Tell me what you want, baby," Callum murmurs, his lips brushing my ear.
"Everything," I breathe. "I want all of you."
His hand slides down between us, deftly unfastening my jeans. I lift my hips to help him pull them off, along with my underwear. Callum's eyes roam over my naked body, drinking me in.
"Fuck, you're perfect," he says reverently.
I reach for his belt, my fingers fumbling in my eagerness. "Too many clothes," I complain.
Callum chuckles, the sound sending shivers down my spine. He stands to quickly shed the rest of his clothes before rejoining me on the bed.
This time when our bodies press together, there's nothing between us. I gasp at the feeling of his hot, hard length against my thigh. Callum captures the sound with his mouth, kissing me deeply as his hand travels down my body.
When his fingers brush over my clit, my hips buck involuntarily. "Please," I whimper against his lips.
"So wet for me already," Callum groans, sliding a finger inside me.
I cry out at the sensation, my body clenching around him. It's been so long, and no one has ever made me feel the way Callum does. He adds a second finger, curling them just right as his thumb circles my clit.
"That's it, baby," he encourages. "Let go for me."
His words push me over the edge. I come with a loud moan, my body shuddering beneath him. Callum works me through it, only withdrawing his fingers when the aftershocks subside.
Before I can catch my breath, he's positioning himself between my legs. The blunt head of his cock presses against my entrance.
"You ready?" Callum asks, his voice rough with need.
I nod frantically. "Yes, god yes. I need you inside me."
He pushes in slowly, letting me adjust to his size. When he's fully seated, we both groan at the sensation.
"Fuck, you feel amazing," Callum pants, his forehead resting against mine. "So tight and hot."
I roll my hips, urging him to move. "Please, Cal. I need more."
He starts to thrust, building a steady rhythm that has me gasping with every stroke. I wrap my legs around his waist, changing the angle so he hits even deeper.
"Right there," I moan. "Don't stop."
Callum picks up the pace, driving into me harder and faster. The headboard bangs against the wall with each thrust, but I'm too lost in sensation to care.
"You gonna come for me again, Si?" Callum growls. "Wanna feel you come on my cock."
His words send another wave of heat through me. I'm so close, teetering on the edge.
"Touch yourself," Callum commands. "I want to watch you fall apart."
I slide a hand between us, my fingers finding my clit. The added stimulation is overwhelming. Within moments, I'm crying out Callum's name as my orgasm crashes over me.
The feeling of me clenching around him pushes Callum over the edge too. With a final deep thrust, he buries himself inside me and comes with a loud groan.
For a long moment, we stay tangled together, both of us panting and sweaty. Callum presses soft kisses to my neck and shoulder as our breathing slowly returns to normal.
When he finally pulls out and flops onto his back beside me, I immediately miss the feeling of him inside me. I curl into his side, resting my head on his chest.
As the haze of pleasure fades, I'm struck by the intensity of what just happened. It wasn't just sex – it was a reconnection, years of longing and unresolved feelings poured into every touch.
Callum's arm tightens around me, as if sensing my thoughts. "You okay?" he asks softly.
I nod against his chest. "More than okay. That was..."
"Yeah," Callum agrees, understanding my loss for words.
We lay in comfortable silence for a while, his fingers trailing lazily up and down my spine. I've never felt so content, so at peace.
Whatever obstacles we still face, I know now that Callum and I are meant to be together.
This is real, and it's worth fighting for.
Saturday, March 22
7:07 AM
A loud knock jolts me awake, pulling me out of a deep, dreamless sleep. My eyes snap open, my heart racing as I blink into the darkness. For a second, I don’t know where I am or what woke me, the quiet of the apartment pressing around me like a heavy blanket.
Beside me, Callum stirs, his arm draped across my waist. The warmth of his skin is grounding. He obviously isn't bothered by the knocking, which is admirable.
The sharp knock comes again, louder this time, followed by a muffled voice. "Mom! Mom, are you there?"
Ollie.
I shoot up in bed. My pulse spikes and I panic. The slice of light sneaking through the drapes casts a soft glow over the room as I fumble for my phone to check the Ring camera, but it’s not on the nightstand. Shit. Where is it?
The knocks come again, sharper now. "Mom!" Ollie’s voice is louder this time, insistent. "Are you there?"
I scramble out of bed and grab my robe from the back of the door. I hastily wrap it around me, rushing to his voice, caught between sleep and panic. My heart is hammering as I stumble toward the living room rubbing my eyes. My bare feet pad against the hardwood floor.
By the time I reach the door, I hear another voice. Jesus, it's Marcus. "Sienna? Are you in there? I tried calling, but you didn’t answer."
I curse under my breath, yanking open the door. Marcus is standing there, his hand resting lightly on Ollie’s shoulder. He’s dressed casually, but there’s tension in the way he holds himself, like he’s already bracing for a fight.
"Marcus, what the hell?" I whisper harshly, glancing past him to the empty hallway. "It’s the crack of dawn. What are you doing here?"
"I’m sorry," he says, his tone low and almost sheepish. "But Ollie wanted to grab his ukulele. He’s putting on a show for my parents later today, and he couldn’t stop talking about it. He said he has to practice."
I blink, trying to process this ridiculous explanation. "You came here at—" I glance at the clock on the wall, "—seven in the morning for a ukulele?"
"I tried calling you several times," he says, his voice tightening. "When you didn’t answer, I got worried. I thought maybe something happened."
I narrow my eyes, my voice sharpening. "I was asleep, Marcus. Like any sane person would be at this hour on a Saturday."
"Well, I didn’t know that," he snaps back, his tone shifting to something defensive. "I’m sorry for being concerned about you."
"Concerned about me?" I hiss, keeping my voice low. "This isn’t about concern, and you know it. You’re looking for an excuse to show up unannounced and throw your weight around. I wouldn't be surprised if you were checking up on me, trying to see if I was home. God, this is another level, Marcus."
Marcus’s jaw tightens, and I can see the flicker of anger in his eyes. "That’s not what this is."
"Really? Because it feels like you’re trying to make a point," I shoot back, my voice rising slightly despite my efforts to keep it calm. "You're suffocating."
"Is everything okay?" Callum’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade, and my stomach drops.
I turn to see him standing in the hallway, bare-chested and wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers. His hair is mussed from sleep, and his expression shifts instantly when his eyes land on Marcus.
"What the fuck?" Marcus spits, his face twisting with a mix of rage and disbelief. "You’ve got him here? Are you kidding me?"
"Marcus, stop," I say quickly, stepping between them. “You don’t have a say in what I do in my spare time."
“I do when it comes to my son," Marcus snaps, pointing at Callum. "This is what I was talking about, Sienna. This is exactly why you’re reckless. This is not okay," he yells.
"Reckless?" Callum says, his voice hardening as he steps forward. "You want to run that by me again?"
"Callum, don’t," I say, holding up a hand to stop him.
"Oh, this is just perfect," Marcus sneers, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You’re playing house with a rockstar who is puffing up, like he will hit me, in front of Ollie. Real mature, Sienna. Amazing influence."
"Marcus, stop it!" I snap, my anger boiling over. “You’re the one who put Ollie in the middle of this. Why did you bring him here like this? You won't control me anymore." I turn around to Callum. "Callum, please go back to the back and let me handle this."
Marcus scoffs, his lip curling. "Control you? I’m trying to protect my son from whatever mess you’re dragging him into. You’re pathetic and desperate.”
"That’s enough," Callum says sharply, his voice calm but firm. He steps closer, his eyes locked on Marcus. "You don’t get to come in here and talk to her like that."
Marcus’s eyes flash with fury, and for a moment, I think he might lunge forward. But instead, he grabs Ollie’s shoulder and turns him toward the door. "She is my wife," he spits at Calum. "Come on, Son. We’re leaving," he says coldly to Ollie.
"No," I say, stepping forward. "You’re not taking him. Not like this."
Ollie looks up at me, wide-eyed and confused. "Mom? What’s going on?"
"Nothing, baby," I say quickly, crouching to meet his gaze. "Why don’t you go grab your ukulele? It’s in your room, right?"
Ollie nods, glancing nervously between me and Marcus before running down the hall.
The second he’s out of earshot, I whirl on Marcus. "This stops now. You don’t get to show up here whenever you feel like it and act like you have a say in my life. And, by the way, I am not your wife."
"As long as you're spending time with my son, I have a say," Marcus snaps. "Someone has to be the adult."
The tension between us could snap at any second, but before either of us can say anything else, Ollie comes running back, clutching his ukulele.
"Got it!" he says brightly.
"Great," Marcus says stiffly, his voice clipped. "Let’s go."
Instead of stopping him, I let them go to spare Ollie any more turmoil. If it were in a vacuum, I would take him and run far away from him.
If anyone is putting him in an unsafe situation, it is the one showing up at my door on his weekend with him to catch me living my adult life. He knew exactly what he was doing. He is trying to paint me as the bad guy.
I know he was hoping for a scene just like this.
7:23 AM
The door clicks shut behind Marcus, leaving the apartment unnervingly silent. I lean against the wall, my legs trembling and my chest heaving like I’ve just run a marathon. I don’t know if it’s anger, fear, or a mix of both, but whatever it is, it’s suffocating.
Callum’s voice cuts through the quiet, low and steady. "What the fuck was that?"
I turn slowly, and he’s already there, closing the distance between us in a few quick strides. Before I can say anything, his arms are around me, pulling me into his chest. The warmth of him, the solid weight of his hold, makes something inside me crack wide open.
"It’s okay," he murmurs, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of my head. "I’ve got you."
For a moment, I just let myself surrender to him. The tension in my shoulders slowly unwinds as his steady breaths ground me. My hands clutch at him so tightly that I feel the faint tremble in my fingers. "Shhh. I've got you."
When I finally pull back, his hands stay on my arms and his gaze stays fixed on me. "I've got you," he says again, his voice softer now. "Talk to me. What’s going on?"
I nod, swallowing hard, and let him guide me to the couch. I sink into the cushions, wrapping my arms around myself as he sits beside me, his knees brushing mine.
"I need to tell you everything," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
He nods and I wrap my arms around myself as I walk back toward the living room. I sink into the couch, pulling my robe tighter, and Callum sits down beside me, his knees brushing mine.
For a moment, I can’t find the words. They stick in my throat, caught behind the tight knot of emotion threatening to choke me.
"Tell me," he begs, softer this time. He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes fixed on mine.
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to gain my composure.
And then I tell him. Everything.
I tell him about Marcus’s call the other night, about how he threatened to take me to court if I didn’t end things with Callum. I tell him how he twisted the idea of us into something reckless and dangerous, as if being with him could somehow make me a bad mother.
I even tell him about meeting with the lawyer, how I’ve been documenting everything, and how Marcus always seems to find a way to get under my skin, no matter how hard I try to shut him out.
By the time I finish, my hands are trembling, and I feel raw and exposed. I glance at him, bracing myself for whatever he’s about to say. If I were him, especially if I was about to have every bit of his life under a microscope, I would run. Fast and far.
He doesn’t speak right away. Instead, he leans back, his jaw tight, his hands clasped in front of him. He stares at the floor, but I see the tension radiating from him, the way his chest rises and falls as he tries to steady himself.
When he finally looks at me, his voice is calm but hard-edged. "Why didn’t you tell me this last night? I'm guessing this is why you've been dark this week, why you couldn't see me?"
I flinch, guilt twisting in my stomach. "Because I didn’t want to drag you into it."
"You weren't going to see me again, were you?"
"Callum, I don't know. I was still processing it. You’ve got enough going on, and this is my mess.
"It’s not just your mess," he says firmly. "Not if we’re doing this, Sienna. Not if we’re serious."
His words hit like a jolt, and I look away, my fingers twisting the edge of my robe. "Are we serious?"
"Well, I am," he says, his voice steady but unwavering. "And if Marcus wants to make me the bad guy, then fine. Let him. But I’m not going anywhere. Not because of him. Not if you want me to stay."
I glance back at him, my throat tightening. "You don’t get it, Callum. Marcus doesn’t just... argue. He finds ways to control everything. He’s always been like this."
His jaw clenches, and I can see the fire sparking behind his eyes. "Then let me help. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it."
"You can’t fix this," I whisper, my voice cracking. "I don’t even know if I can fix this."
Callum reaches for my hand, his fingers warm and solid around mine. "You’re not alone in this, Sienna. I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m here. For you. For Ollie. Whatever you need."
The weight of his words sinks into me, and for the first time in days, I feel something crack—like the tight grip I’ve been holding on everything is loosening, just a little.
I nod, blinking back tears as I squeeze his hand. "Okay."
"Okay," he echoes, his voice softer now. "But you’ve got to promise me something."
"What?"
"Next time, you tell me. No matter what it is. Deal?"
I take a shaky breath, nodding again. “Deal."