24. Callum
TWENTY-FOUR
Callum
We were lost, but now we’re found
Sunday, March 23
6:56 AM
I’ve been up for hours. I tossed and turned for a while and watched Sienna sleep while thanking my lucky stars to have landed in her orbit again.
And now I'm pacing the quiet of her apartment while she still sleeps.
I stop in front of a shelf above her desk, drawn to a familiar little trinket. Well, I'll be goddamned. She still has the silly bobblehead shark I gave her forever ago. It’s a cheap, tacky thing I picked up for her as a joke. Meaningless, really. But, seeing it here, after all these years, hits me in a way I don’t expect.
I pick it up and turn it over in my hands. "No way," I mutter to myself, a grin tugging at my lips. She kept it. Through everything—through years of silence, through a whole other life—she kept it.
The memory comes rushing back: two broke college kids cashing in on a gig payment—two tickets to the South Carolina Aquarium. I’d made some joke about how it wasn’t exactly rent money, but Sienna was thrilled, like I’d scored us tickets to a world tour or something.
We’d spent hours wandering through the exhibits, but every time we passed the big tank, she’d stop and drag me into a game of "I Spy" to see who could find the most sharks. She was so into it, her face pressed close to the glass, rattling off shark counts like it was some kind of sport. I’d made fun of her for being obsessed, but I secretly loved how fascinated she was.
"Just think," she’d said, her nose almost touching the glass, "this is a peek into the same ocean we swam in yesterday. They’re out there, Callum. Swimming with us. Right next to us."
"Terrifying," I’d deadpanned. "Did you never think there were sharks out there?"
She’d laughed, but I remember the way her voice got quieter, more serious. "I mean, yes, of course, I knew there were sharks. But seeing them like this, I don't know, it somehow makes them more real."
She’d admitted right after that she might never swim at Folly Beach again, which would have wrecked what we did every Sunday during warm weather. But I also thought it was pure Sienna—this perfect mix of wonder and fear, finding beauty in things most people don't even think about.
After that trip, I bought her the bobblehead shark at some point. I think I picked it up at a gas station. I told her it was her very own pet shark.
She named him Callum, and we both had many laughs about the goofy shark that she kept displayed on our pre-war mantle in our apartment.
I set it back on the shelf, shaking my head. "You’re still as weird as ever, Sienna," I mutter, but there’s no bite in the words. Just a quiet, unexpected warmth makes me smile to myself. Even with all of the years and miles that have separated us, we still have a string and a history that connects us.
My gaze drifts to a photo on the shelf. It’s her and Ollie, smiling widely at the camera with her arm wrapped around him. He’s got her mouth, that same spark of curiosity and mischief.
In fact, he's all Sienna. I don't see a shred of stuffy Marcus Walker. Lucky for this kid, he doesn't look like his ugly bastard of a father.
My phone pings on the coffee table and pulls me out of my walk down memory lane. It's a text from Ethan.
Call me when you’re up. I heard through the grapevine you might have a way to shut Morrison down for good.
I sit up straighter. Finally, something that could be progress in a deluge of setbacks and bad news. I grab the phone and head out onto the balcony, letting the brisk morning air jolt me fully awake before dialing.
Ethan picks up on the second ring. "Morning," he says, his voice sharper than usual. "I half expected you to still be asleep. Rockstar hours. You good?"
"Depends on what you’ve got for me," I say, leaning against the railing. "What’s the deal with Morrison? I could use some good news."
"I think Paul got a break," he says. "Turns out, Morrison’s not as squeaky-clean as he likes to pretend."
"No shit," I deadpan.
"Pinnacle’s legal team dug up some shady shit on his end—a few contracts he signed with other artists that look questionable."
I raise an eyebrow. "What does that have to do with me?"
"More predatory shit, things that are more overt," Ethan says bluntly. "Worse than yours. If this goes public, it could break him. End his future in Nashville."
I let out a low whistle, my mind already spinning. "Okay, so what should I do?"
"Pinnacle’s team wants to use it as leverage to get him to back off," Ethan explains. "They’re willing to pay him something, but the number could come way down—think a fraction of what he’s asking. They’re not looking to destroy him, just... neutralize the threat. I think you should do it."
I pause, letting that sink in. "And if he doesn’t play ball?"
Ethan exhales sharply. "Then it gets messy. Morrison might decide to take one last swing on his way out—go public, stir up drama, try to paint you as the bad guy to fuck everyone if he's going down. It wouldn’t kill your career, but it’d be a headache. A big one."
My grip tightens on the phone. The idea of finally being free from Morrison is so tempting I can taste it. But the thought of him dragging my name through the mud on his way down? That’s harder to swallow, especially after all the hell I've gone through to get here. "So do I call Paul, or what?"
"You have to decide if you’re okay with whatever number Pinnacle lands on," Ethan says. "And you have to be ready for blowback if Morrison doesn’t take the deal quietly. It’s a calculated risk, Callum. But it’s the best shot you’ve had at ending this."
I run a hand over my face, the cold air biting at my skin. "How long do I have to decide?"
"Not long," he replies. "Pinnacle’s legal team meets tomorrow to lay it all out. You should be there and know by then if you’ll let them run with it."
I glance at the street below, the early-morning quiet making my thoughts feel louder than usual. "I’m meeting Luke and the guys at the studio at two today. I’ll give him the go-ahead then. And I’ll be at the meeting tomorrow."
"I honestly think it’s your best option. Pay him and move on."
"Agreed," I say, my voice quieter now. "I trust you most of anyone. Thank you, Bro, for being there for me and deciphering all of this. I really appreciate it."
I hang up and lean against the railing, staring down at the sidewalk like it’s going to give me answers. I’ve been chasing this moment—this freedom—for so long, and now that it’s within reach.
There’s still a part of me that can’t stop thinking about what happens if Morrison doesn’t go quietly. What happens if this decision comes back to bite me—and the people around me?
I turn back toward the apartment, my jaw tight as I step inside. The warmth hits me like a wave, but it doesn’t touch the cold knot in my chest. Not yet.
I slip back inside, shutting the door quietly behind me, and the warmth of the apartment hits me like a wave. I set my phone on the counter, tapping my fingers against the edge as I glance toward her bedroom door. It’s still cracked open, just enough to make me wonder if she’s awake.
When I turn toward the living room, I freeze. She’s there, leaning casually against the doorframe, her white robe tied loosely at the waist. Her hair is still mussed from sleep, a few strands falling over her face, and there’s a soft, easy smile playing on her lips.
"Hey," she says, her voice light but warm.
I stare at her for a second, caught off guard by how effortlessly beautiful she looks. No makeup, no pretense—just Sienna, standing there like she’s been part of my mornings forever. The sight engulfs me and fills me with an emotion that’s hard to put into words.
"Hey," I say back, crossing the room toward her. "Good morning, beautiful. Everything okay?"
She shrugs, her smile widening slightly. "I should be asking you that. I heard you on the phone."
"It’s nothing," I say, waving it off as I stop in front of her. "Just work stuff. Nothing you need to worry about."
Her brow furrows slightly, but there’s no tension in her face, just quiet concern. "You sure?"
"Positive," I say, reaching out instinctively. My hands settle on her hips, pulling her gently toward me. She doesn’t resist, and when my arms wrap around her, she leans into me, her head resting against my chest.
For a moment, neither of us says anything. Her warmth seeps into me, grounding me in a way I need more than anything. I press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the faint scent of lavender and something softer, something uniquely her.
"You think we can make this work?" she murmurs, her voice muffled against me.
I pull back slightly, just enough to make eye contact with her. "Yeah. I do."
She studies me for a long moment, her hazel eyes searching mine. "You make it sound so simple."
"The best things in life. Speaking of," I murmur, my lips twitching into a small smile, "I ran into an old friend of ours earlier."
She tilts her head back slightly, giving me a curious look. "Oh?"
"Yeah," I say, my voice teasing now. "Callum, the shark."
It takes her a second, but when she gets it, her eyes widen, and then she bursts out laughing. "You found that?"
"Hard to miss," I say, grinning. "His wobbly little head’s still going strong. I can’t believe you kept him all these years."
She shrugs, but there’s a softness in her smile now. "He makes me laugh. And, you know, he reminds me of you."
I raise an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "Nice to know you have a voodoo doll of me. Now I know why I've been having neck pain all these years."
"Gotta keep you in line," she says, laughing again. "That was a fun memory. We had fun together, didn't we?"
I nod, my grin fading into something quieter. "We did."
Her hand comes up, brushing against my jaw as her smile softens. "You’re still fun. Just a little less goofy now. Different."
"Good different?" I ask, my voice low.
Her eyes meet mine, steady and warm. "Definitely good."
I brush a strand of hair from her face, my thumb lingering against her cheek. "You’re still you. And I mean that in the best way. Even if you've cleaned up your rebellious image."
She leans into my touch, her laughter giving way to something deeper, something that shifts the air between us. My hand slides to her waist, pulling her closer, and for a moment, there’s nothing else—just her, here, with me.
She tilts her head slightly. Her mouth parts and the look in her eyes is enough to undo me. I lean in slowly, and she closes the distance between us. Her lips brush against mine in a kiss that starts soft, hesitant, and then deepens. The heat between us builds like a slow burn.
Her hands slide up my chest. Her touch is tentative at first, but when my arms wrap around her and pull her closer, she melts into me. The kiss grows hungrier, more urgent, until my body weight pushes her back onto the bed and presses on top of her.
Her robe parts slightly, and the feel of her bare skin under my hands sends a jolt straight through me.
"Sienna," I whisper again, my lips trailing down her jaw to her neck, tasting the faintest hint of lavender on her skin. She arches against me as I slide my boxers down.
Her breath hitches, and my hands claim every inch of her like I’m trying to memorize her all over again.
She gasps softly as my fingers find her opening.
I trail kisses down Sienna's body, savoring the softness of her skin against my lips. The faint scent of her lotion mingles with her natural warmth as I make my way lower. My hands caress her thighs, gently parting them as I settle between her legs.
"God, I've been wanting to taste you like this," I murmur against her inner thigh.
Sienna lets out a soft gasp as I place open-mouthed kisses along her sensitive skin. Her fingers thread through my hair, urging me closer to where she wants me most. I take my time, teasing her with light touches and fleeting caresses.
When I finally run my tongue along her folds, Sienna arches off the bed with a moan. The taste of her floods my senses, familiar yet intoxicating. I explore her thoroughly, relearning every dip and curve. My hands grip her hips, holding her steady as I focus on her clit.
"Callum," she breathes, her voice husky with need.
I look up to meet her gaze, taking in the flush spreading across her chest and the way her lips part with each panting breath. The sight of her like this—completely open and trusting—makes me want her even more.
"You're so beautiful," I tell her before diving back in.
I alternate between broad strokes of my tongue and focused attention on her clit, gauging her reactions. When I slip two fingers inside her, curling them just right, Sienna cries out. Her walls clench around my fingers as I set a steady rhythm.
"Just like that," Sienna gasps, her hips rocking to meet my movements. "Don't stop. Oh, God, yes."
I have no intention of stopping. I'm addicted to the way she responds to me, chasing her pleasure with a single-minded focus. My free hand roams her body, caressing her breasts and teasing her nipples.
Sienna's breathing grows more ragged as I increase the pace. I can feel how close she is, her thighs trembling on either side of my head. I redouble my efforts, sucking her clit as my fingers thrust deeper.
"Callum, I’m—" she breaks off with a strangled moan as her orgasm crashes over her.
I work her through it, easing off gradually as the aftershocks fade. When I finally pull away, Sienna tugs me up for a deep, messy kiss. I can taste her on my tongue as she explores my mouth hungrily.
"I love seeing you like this," I murmur against her lips. "Completely undone. Trusting me with everything."
Sienna's eyes shine with emotion as she cups my face. "I do trust you," she whispers. "With my body and my heart."
The weight of her words settles over me, filling me with a warmth that goes beyond physical desire. I kiss her again, pouring all my feelings into the contact. As much as I want her—and god, do I want her—this moment of connection feels infinitely precious.