Chapter 16
CALLEN STOOD BESIDE HER as they both watched Sage and Abbie drive off with the kids. He had to admit, even though their situation was crazy, he would miss having the three munchkins around. He could see why Meaghan threw her all into them, cared for them enough to risk her life to keep them safe.
As the taillights disappeared, she turned to him, placing a hand to his arm. “They said your friends wouldn’t be here for about an hour. How about you get some rest?” She brushed hair from his forehead, a tender smile toying at her lips.
“Only if you do.”
A soft smile slipped across her face. “I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do.”
He watched as she passed him, the soft sway of her hips, the strength of her back. The kids were finally going home, but he knew that for the two of them, things were truly just beginning.
Once they were inside, the motel door clicking shut behind them, silence settled once more, thick and total. He threw the deadbolt and drew the curtains, and then finally turned to her, seeing her standing at the edge of the bed.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The dim light from the bathroom left her in half-shadow, her silhouette haloed with gold. She looked tired. Worn down to the bone. And yet, so goddamn beautiful it made his throat tighten while his cock throbbed in his jeans.
“You need rest,” she murmured, crossing the space between them.
“I need a hell of a lot of things,” he said, voice rasping from overuse and blood loss. “But I want you first.”
A ghost of a smile tugged at her lips as she sat on the edge of the bed, lifting his hand between both of hers. He could feel her pulse fluttering beneath her skin: fast, light, unsure.
He curled his fingers slowly around hers. “You okay?”
Her laugh was dry and fragile. “No. But the kids are safe. That’s something.”
Callen watched her for a moment, his chest tight, not just from the damn bullet wound, but from everything she’d carried and everything she still carried.
Even now, after the worst of it, she didn’t crumble.
She’d been their anchor, their hope, their calm in the storm. And she didn’t even realize it.
“You were amazing with them,” he told her, voice rough. “All of it—keeping them calm, keeping them together. They listened to you like… like you were the only thing they trusted.”
Her brows lifted slightly, surprised. “I didn’t really know what I was doing.”
“You didn’t have to. You cared. They felt that.
” He let his head rest back against the pillow, still watching her.
“I noticed it, too. Every time you held Sophie’s hand when she was scared or how you got Lucas to smile, even when he didn’t want to.
And Willie…” A faint smile tugged at his lips.
“That little guy didn’t want to leave your side.
He looked at you like you were the only safe place left in the world.
You made them feel safe. I bet you make a damn good teacher, just from what I’ve seen the past couple of days. ”
Her eyes filled, but she held his gaze. “I’ve always loved kids,” she whispered. “That’s why I became a teacher. Kindergarten’s not just colors and letters; it’s when they learn how to be in the world. How to trust, how to feel safe, how to believe someone’s looking out for them.”
She hesitated, then added in a whisper, “I just wish I could’ve protected them from all this.”
“You did,” he said, reaching for her hand. “You kept them grounded. You kept them human in the middle of a nightmare. Never think that wasn’t enough.”
She didn’t respond right away, just squeezed his hand like she needed the contact to believe his words. Her breath hitched, and for a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, silence hung between them. But it wasn’t heavy. It was full of meaning. Full of things they weren’t ready to say.
Not yet.
Finally, she broke the silence, her gaze still downcast, voice low. “All I ever wanted was to give them something I didn’t always have.”
Callen’s brows drew together, but he said nothing, sensing there was more.
She picked at the corner of the blanket, her voice even quieter now.
“My dad… he was always off somewhere. Campaign trail, meetings, handshakes and headlines. We had money, sure. And nannies. Tutors. But not a lot of his presence. I used to think maybe if I was quieter, easier to handle, he’d come around more.
Eventually, I just stopped expecting it.
” She glanced over at him, a smirk twisting her lips.
“That’s probably when I started acting out. ”
Callen felt that truth hit somewhere deep in his chest. “You deserved better.”
She shrugged. “I always wanted to be that kind of person,” she said. “The one who makes a difference. A teacher, a counselor… someone who mattered in a kid’s life.” Her smile turned self-conscious. “Even a forest ranger could do that.”
He reached for her hand, lacing their fingers slowly. “You were that person. Out there with them. You made more of a difference in two days than some people make in years.”
Her eyes shimmered, but she didn’t cry. She didn’t need to. Instead, she squeezed his hand and nodded, just once. Steady. Strong. Still standing.
And Callen thought, not for the first time that night, God help anyone who tries to take her away from me again.
They sat like that for another long moment, the clock ticking faintly, the heater rattling once and going still.
“I have something for you,” he said as he shifted so he could dig something out of his pocket.
“I found it in the cabin, and I want you to have it.” He pulled out a silver necklace with a white-gold pendant of a crescent moon.
“It’s something I made years ago before…
” He smiled over at her as he handed her the necklace. “Well, before I was an idiot.”
She took the necklace, a soft smile toying at her lips. “It’s gorgeous.” She sat up in the bed and slid it around her neck, rubbing the pendant when she finished. “I love it. Thank you.”
He nodded, his throat closing as he stared over at her. “Not the best circumstances, I know, but I’m glad it brought us back together.”
“Me too,” she said, still touching the necklace.
He could have let her go to sleep. Should have, really. Instead, they sat there in the silence, a silence filled with expectation. Like the pause before the storm.
“You remember that night after graduation?” he asked suddenly.
She looked over, brows lifting. “Which one?”
“End-of-summer bonfire. Out at Mariner’s Point. You wore that ridiculous hoodie from the senior trip, and I was… hell, probably already buzzed off two beers.”
Her mouth curved. “I remember you falling asleep in the back of your truck.”
“That was after,” he said, voice low. “Before that… we almost said it.”
She froze.
Callen kept his eyes on the ceiling. “We were walking back to the cars. You were talking about college, and I kept thinking—say something. Tell her you don’t want her to go. But I didn’t. I chickened out and enlisted.”
“You weren’t the only one,” Meaghan whispered. “I was scared that if I said it, you’d laugh. Or worse, say it back.”
Now he looked at her, and their eyes locked.
Years between them evaporated.
“I loved you back then,” Callen said. “I just didn’t know what to do with it.”
“I still don’t,” she whispered.
And then she leaned forward and kissed him.
It started soft: tentative and trembling.
Her lips brushed his like she was afraid he’d disappear.
He responded with the last of his strength, fingers rising to her face, anchoring her there.
Her hands pressed flat against his chest, careful of the bandage, her breath catching when his tongue swept across hers.
They broke apart just long enough to breathe.
Then again, this time deeper, hungrier, her body half on top of his now, straddling his good side. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her close.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she breathed against his mouth.
“You won’t.”
She kissed him again. He winced once, sharply, and she paused.
“Callen—”
“I’ve survived worse.”
“Yeah, but I’m not trying to kill you.”
He reached up, tracing the slope of her jaw, fingers slipping into her hair. “You’re the only thing that’s made me feel alive in years.”
And that was the end of her restraint.
Clothes were pushed aside rather than removed completely, her tank top shoved up, his jeans unzipped just enough, urgency winning over elegance.
But it wasn’t just desperation that fueled them.
There was reverence in the way she cradled his face, in how he groaned softly into the curve of her neck, in how she gripped his hardness and guided it inside her wetness, how she rocked against him, steady and sure, like she’d always known his rhythm.
They didn’t speak as they moved.
Didn’t have to.
It was all there, in the gasps and the sighs, in the way her fingers threaded with his as she came apart, in the way he whispered her name like the universe had etched it into his soul since they were kids.
She cried out his name as his heat filled her, no longer worried about being quiet, her body shuddering against his.
And afterward, when they lay tangled in the motel bed, the sheets damp with sweat and his bandage slightly askew, Callen didn’t pull away. He wrapped his arm around her waist, her back to his chest, and closed his eyes.
For the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself rest. Truly rest.
A few minutes later, he woke to the faint hum of a car engine passing by outside and the weight of Meaghan’s head tucked under his chin. Her breathing was slow. Peaceful. By his estimation, they probably had about twenty minutes before Elvis and Gage showed up.
He didn’t want to wake her. But she stirred anyway, shifting to look at him with sleep-drunk eyes.
“Hi,” she murmured.
“Hey.”
She reached up and traced the edge of the gauze on his side, making him wince. “Still hurts?”
“Like hell.”
“You want something for it?”
He shook his head. “I’ve already got what I want.”
She smiled, small and shy. “You always this cheesy after sex?”
“Only when it’s the best I’ve ever had.”
Her breath hitched. Then, softly, “Me too.”
He kissed her again, slower now. Less fire, more warmth.
When they pulled apart, she laid her head on his chest. They listened to the faint noises of the motel, the hum of a vending machine down the hall, someone’s TV two doors over, the occasional rumble of a car on the road beyond the lot.
“We’ll figure this out,” he assured her.
Meaghan didn’t ask what this was. She knew. Them. The danger. Her father. Everything in between.
“You promise?”
He hesitated. Then, “I promise I’ll fight like hell to try.”
She nodded.
It was enough. For now.
She rested her forehead against his for a moment, eyes fluttering shut, breathing in the mix of pain and warmth and unspoken words between them. But even as her pulse slowed, her thoughts didn’t. They were racing toward the inevitable.
“I need you to know something,” she whispered.
He opened his eyes, glancing over at her. “Okay.”
“I’m not going to him,” she said, her voice suddenly steel beneath the softness. “My father. I don’t care what kind of power he thinks he still has over me. I’m not walking into that house like some loyal little daughter just because he asked you to bring me.”
Callen didn’t flinch. He only nodded once. “Then we don’t go.”
Meaghan blinked, surprised by how easily that answer came. “You don’t have to protect him. If that was part of the deal—”
“There was no deal,” he said, cutting her off, firm now. “He called me because he’s scared and knew I had the skills and discretion to get you out before you got hurt. He seemed scared of whoever’s behind this, of losing you. But I’m not doing what he wants. I’m doing what you need.”
A long breath escaped her chest, part relief, part ache. “What I need is not to be a pawn in whatever mess he created.”
“Then we get you somewhere safe,” he told her. “We take some time, let Blaze dig in. He has a way of finding things. People, as well as their secrets.”
She studied him for a moment, his jaw set even as pain flickered across his eyes. Still so stubborn. Still bleeding. Still thinking about how to shield her, even when he was barely holding himself upright.
“You really are the stupidest, bravest man I’ve ever known,” she murmured.
His mouth tugged up. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all week.”
She touched his chest lightly, above the gauze. “Then let’s get through this week, Callen. Together.”