Chapter Twenty-Nine
Callum
The bar felt different.
Not in a big way. Not like I walked in and heard angels singing or saw the light filtering through the stained glass like some kind of holy sign.
But it felt… lighter.
Like someone had cracked a window and let the air in, and the ghosts that usually hovered in the corners had stepped out for a smoke break.
I wiped down the bar even though it was already clean. Couldn’t help it. My hands needed something to do. My chest was too tight with leftover adrenaline and something that felt dangerously close to hope.
Lydia.
Hell.
Just thinking her name made something in me stutter.
I hadn’t slept much. Didn’t want to. She’d curled up against me in that tiny studio apartment like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her hand had rested on my chest for hours, right over my heart like she was trying to memorize its rhythm.
And for once, I hadn’t hated the silence that followed.
Now I was back in the Rusty Stag with my feet on solid ground and my head somewhere in the clouds, and I was doing everything I could to pretend I wasn’t a little bit different from the way I’d been yesterday or the day before that.
The front door opened with its usual creak and thud, and I didn’t even look up.
“Closed ‘til noon,” I said.
“I brought you a breakfast burrito and the best iced coffee our caffeine goddess, Riley, had to offer,” Drew’s voice sang out, followed by the unmistakable thud of his boots across the floor. “So you’re going to shut up and accept this blessing.”
I looked up then.
He grinned as he tossed a paper bag onto the bar and plopped the iced drink down beside it. “I also brought judgment, sarcasm, and possibly an emotional intervention, depending on your mood.”
I rolled my eyes but reached for the burrito. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
“Nope,” he said, making himself at home on a barstool. “It’s a gift.”
He took one long sip of his own drink, eyes scanning me like I was some kind of experiment he was trying to dissect.
Then he narrowed them. “You’re… different.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.” His grin turned positively feral. “You’re standing straighter. Your frown is at least 30% less murder-y. And your hair looks like someone ran their hands through it multiple times. Amazing. I took a few days off, and you’re a new man.”
I pointed at him with the burrito. “You need hobbies.”
“I have hobbies. Watching you try and fail to hide your feelings is my new favorite one.”
I grumbled under my breath and turned away to wipe down the bar again. Definitely clean.
But Drew wasn’t done.
He slid off the stool like a bloodhound catching a new scent. Wandered toward the hallway.
“Don’t go back there,” I warned.
“Why?” he called, voice echoing down the short hallway.
“Because I said so.”
“Oh-ho,” he said, voice rising with interest. “Is that… a sock shoved under the shelf?”
I closed my eyes.
“Callum,” he said, voice choked with laughter, “I swear to God, is this… is this a pink floral sock ?”
I marched back there, grabbing it off the floor before he could get closer.
He pointed at it like it was proof of a miracle. “That sock belongs to someone who definitely doesn’t drink beer out of a boot and enter a belching contest.”
I scowled. “Shut up.”
“That’s Lydia’s, isn’t it?”
“It’s no one’s. Maybe it’s mine.”
He tilted his head. “You wear socks with daisies?”
“It’s ironic.” I puffed my chest out. “Makes me feel more in touch with myself.”
“This wouldn’t even cover your huge toe, big brother.” He full-on cackled. “You slept with her !”
“Jesus, keep your voice down.”
“We’re alone!”
“Walls are thin,” I grunted, storming back into the bar with the sock clenched in my fist like it had personally betrayed me.
“Brick walls?”
I scowled.
Drew followed, still laughing. “Okay, okay. But man… finally! You’ve been circling each other like two grumpy cats in a cardboard box.”
I dropped the sock behind the bar and resumed wiping the same spot I’d already cleaned twice.
Drew leaned against the bar, watching me with too much amusement.
“So,” he said, voice dipping with mock seriousness, “you gonna tell me what happened or do I get to make up my own version involving candlelight, dramatic declarations, and possibly shirtless woodworking?”
I glared. “Nothing happened.”
“Right, of course. The sock magically grew legs, stumbled into your backroom, and flung itself off.”
“Drop it, Drew.”
He held up both hands. “Alright, alright. Just saying… you look good. Like you’re not about to throw someone through a window for breathing too loudly. It’s a nice change.”
I stared at him for a long beat. Then sighed.
“She’s…” I paused, unsure how to finish.
He waited.
“She’s not what I expected,” I said finally.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “She’s better.”
I didn’t argue.
Couldn’t.
Because the truth was, Drew was right. Lydia was better. Better than I’d given her credit for. Better than the label I’d slapped on her the second she showed up in my town with a dream and a clipboard.
But that didn’t mean I knew what the hell to do next.
So I did nothing.
“I don’t want to mess it up,” I muttered, almost too low to hear.
Drew’s expression sobered. “Then don’t.”
I looked down at the bar, the grain of the wood, the faint nick where someone dropped a bottle two summers ago.
“You think I’m ready for this?” I asked.
“I think you’re scared,” he said honestly. “And I think she is too. But you both keep showing up.”
I nodded slowly, letting the words sink in.
Because maybe that was enough.
For now.
A couple of regulars walked into the bar, and Drew went to take their orders.
I didn’t mind a slow day.
Gave me time to think. Not that I liked doing that either, but it was better than dodging the pang in my chest every time I pictured Lydia’s face when I left her apartment.
I hadn’t meant to bolt like that. But morning sunlight made things feel too… real. And when things got real, I had a habit of making a mess out of them.
But then she showed up here, and everything felt…right.
I was halfway through restocking the cooler when the front door swung open hard enough to rattle the glass in its frame.
I looked up, expecting maybe Riley who forgot her keys again or Larry from the auto shop needed to borrow a wrench.
What I got was Melanie.
In all her fashionable, narrowed-eyes, hands-on-hips glory.
Well. Shit.
“Afternoon,” I said cautiously.
She didn’t answer.
She marched straight toward the bar, dark sunglasses perched on top of her head like a crown of judgment. She looked around once, eyes scanning for someone who clearly wasn’t here, and then turned her fire on me.
“Where is she?”
I blinked. “Who?”
“Don’t play dumb. Lydia.”
I stood up from behind the bar and set the crate of soda bottles aside. “I’m guessing not at her apartment?”
“Nope,” she said crisply, taking a seat and folding her arms. “She hasn’t answered my texts this morning. Not like her. In fact, she hasn’t answered my texts since yesterday.”
“She’s probably just busy,” I said, keeping my tone even. “She’s been helping Riley at the coffee shop.”
Melanie tilted her head and gave me a look that could cut glass. “Yeah, she mentioned that. But something’s off. She's been quiet lately. Less... Lydia-ish. And she’s not the type to ghost people unless something’s seriously bugging her.”
I shrugged, trying not to look as guilty as I felt. “Maybe she’s just settling in.”
Melanie’s brows shot up so fast they nearly flew off her forehead. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“That dismissive guy grunt thing. I am not one of your barstool regulars, Callum.”
“Didn’t say you were.”
She leaned in across the bar like she was about to launch a full-blown interrogation. “Did you do something?”
I hesitated.
Which, in hindsight, was a mistake.
“ Oh my God, ” she said, straightening. “You did .”
I cleared my throat. “It’s complicated.”
Melanie barked a laugh. “Complicated? You either hurt her or you didn’t. You either kissed her or you didn’t. You either slept with her or—” She stopped mid-sentence, mouth falling open. “Oh my God , you slept with her.”
“Keep your voice down,” I muttered.
She blinked, shook her head, then blinked again like she was recalibrating her entire system.
“Holy hell,” she said. “I was joking. But now I’m not so sure.”
I crossed my arms. “That’s between me and Lydia.”
Melanie’s eyes narrowed into tiny slits. “Let me guess. You freaked out, went all gruff mountain man the morning after, and now she’s wandering around town wondering if she’s just a one-night stand with access to a nice whiskey selection.”
My jaw clenched. “That’s not how it went.”
She lifted a brow. “No? Enlighten me then.”
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
Scrubbed a hand over my jaw.
“Yeah,” she said flatly. “Thought so.”
“Look,” I finally said, “I care about her. A lot more than I planned to. And it meant something.”
“Did you tell her that?” she asked, voice sharp.
I hesitated.
Melanie pointed a finger in my direction. “Let me help you out. If the answer isn’t yes, then it doesn’t count.”
I sighed and leaned against the bar. “I’m not great at this.”
“Well, join the club,” she said. “But you don’t get to kiss her like she’s the last shot of bourbon on Earth and then vanish without so much as a note.”
“I didn’t vanish.”
“Callum.”
“I panicked,” I admitted. “Alright? It’s been a long time since I felt anything that close. And I’m not proud of how I handled it, but she came back.”
Melanie’s expression softened just a notch. “She’s been through a lot. You know that, right?”
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I know.”
“She lost her mom. She left the city. She’s trying to build something here, something real. She doesn’t do half-measures. If she let you in, it wasn’t a whim.”
“I didn’t treat it like one.”
She studied me briefly, arms still crossed, but the fire behind her eyes had cooled.
“I want to believe that,” she said. “But you have this… aura.”
I snorted. “Aura?”
“Yeah. Like a guy who’s two seconds from bolting or picking a fight with his own feelings.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
Melanie leaned back. “So. What now?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “She deserves… more. And I don’t want to hurt her.”
“You already did. So the only question is whether you’re gonna keep hurting her or step up and figure it out.”
I stared at the counter, then back at her. “You’re really not scared of me, are you?”
She smirked. “Not even a little.”
I shook my head, but a reluctant smile tugged at my mouth. “You’re a menace.”
“And you’re a mess. But maybe not beyond repair.”
She stood, grabbed her purse, and shot me one last look before heading for the door.
“I’ll give you a day,” she said. “Then I’m butting back in.”
The door closed behind her, leaving the bar in silence again.
But this time, it wasn’t so light.
Because she was right.
About all of it.
And I wasn’t sure what terrified me more…that I’d already messed it up or that I hadn’t yet and still could.