Chapter 22 Those Sensual Touches in Summer
Those Sensual Touches in Summer
Erin
Callan said he wasn’t angry, but he was. I could tell. His posture was too stiff. When he told me I was going up to the house for the night, my protests only made his eyes harden even more.
“Well, you’re not staying down here,” he said. “Jeremy’s lost his bloody mind. Did you see his face? There’s something not right about him.”
“He won’t come back…”
But I didn’t know that. I wasn’t certain. Callan could hear the waver in my voice, and he wasn’t taking chances.
“The house or Mim’s,” he said. “I don’t care which, but you’re not staying on your own again until I know Jeremy’s on a plane.”
Callan was imposing, his shoulders brushing the doorway and his mussed red hair skimming just under the wood. I guess they didn’t have men as big as the Wolcott boys when convicts built the cottages. Was I scared of Callan? Never. But I wasn’t going to argue with him.
I tossed some clothes and toiletries in a bag and followed him up to the house. His hand didn’t seek out mine to wind our fingers together, and there was no heavy arm over my shoulders. Jeremy’s harsh words had eaten away at the closeness between us.
Was this our first fight? Could you fight without saying any words?
When Callan threw open the front door, I swiveled my head from the hallway leading to his room and glanced at the staircase instead.
“I guess I’ll sleep in Bron’s old room,” I said.
He jerked his chin down. I’d guessed right. “I’ll bring you some linen.”
And he did.
He dropped a set of sheets on the bed and strode for the door, but he paused, a hand on his hip, his lips flattening to a line, eyes locked on me. I knew that face. He was stopping himself from saying something. What, though? Good luck with the divorce, but I’m over all the drama?
“Goodnight, Erin.”
The only sound after that was his footsteps creaking down the stairs.
I stood in the center of the room, blinking at the dots of blue tack where posters of movie stars and boy bands used to crowd the lilac walls.
Think. That grim frown and those hard blue eyes were nothing like my Callan.
Why hadn’t I reached out to grab his hand and asked him to tell me what was wrong?
But I was too much of a coward to march myself downstairs and demand an answer now. I had a shower. I stared at myself in the foggy mirror as I dragged a brush through my hair. I tugged on the flannel shirt Callan had left at the cottage, messing up the buttons trying to do it up. Nothing helped.
If I wanted an explanation about what was going on inside Callan’s head, I wasn’t going to find it in his sister’s old bedroom.
The ends of my hair were wet from the too-hot shower, and my skin was still red, but I didn’t want to waste any more time. I padded down the stairs and stopped outside his room. The light was off, but moonlight slipped through the gap in his curtains, a silhouette of his bare back just visible.
My heart was pounding too loud to hear my knuckles tap on the door. “Cal?” I nudged it open.
He flew off the edge of the bed. His wrist swiped under his nose and over his eyes as he closed the distance between us. “Ez, what’s going on?” His blue eyes were glassy. “Are you okay? Did Jeremy call?”
“No. I…” He was close enough to touch, but my fingers swam in air, not quite catching him. What was I afraid of? “There’s something not right between us. I said something…did something…”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I wouldn’t be standing here if I could stop worrying about it.” I sighed. “Please don’t make me play guessing games. If we’re together—”
“Are we? You didn’t say that to Jeremy.”
Callan was right. I hadn’t. I’d stood there with my mouth clamped shut. Biting my lip, I searched his face. Was that why he was mad? He should be.
“I wasn’t expecting you to declare your undying love for me,” Callan said, “but when he said I was nothing but a revenge fuck… I can handle him talking trash. What’s new? But Erin… I needed you to speak up… I needed to hear you telling him I wasn’t just the easy option until you take him back.”
“You know I’d never treat you like that.”
Callan’s chin cocked, listening, wanting to believe me, but his eyes were guarded. “I know you’ve got a world of hurt going on, and it’s selfish of me to expect so much, but bloody hell, Ez. Sometimes it’s important to say the words. I need to know you want me a little.”
“I want you. And there’s nothing easy about wanting to be with you. If we get this wrong…” I swallowed, but the lump in my throat was so raw.
If we got this wrong, we’d both lose everything—our lifelong friendship and this beautiful thing growing between us. His silhouette blurred as tears pooled in my eyes. I didn’t want to lose him. Why couldn’t I just say that?
Callan jerked his head at the door. “It’s been a long day,” he said. “Get to bed now.”
I glanced at the splinter of light peeking from the long hallway. What were my options? I could slink upstairs like he wanted and leave us both hovering in this uncomfortable uncertainty. I could throw all my stuff in a bag and march myself back to the cottage.
Instead, I simply said, “Okay,” and walked to his bed and sat down.
“Erin.”
Did he think I’d go away quietly? No thanks. I fumbled off the buttons of the flannel shirt and tossed it on the floor.
“Erin.”
Frustration crept into his voice, but I ignored it, tugged back the comforter, and slipped underneath.
Callan’s soapy smell was all over the big, fluffy pillows.
I kicked my feet out. And these sheets. When did he learn the value of these amazing sheets?
I wriggled. Bamboo? They were heaven and so soft on my skin.
No wonder Matilda loved stealing his bed for naptime.
Callan’s face hovered barely an inch from mine. Minty breath whispered over my lips. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”
“Heading to bed, like you said.”
“This is my bed.”
“This is our bed,” I corrected him.
His frown faded, and a sweet hopefulness brightened his eyes.
I patted the empty pillow beside me. “Are you coming?”
Of course he was. I expected him to jump straight in, but he rounded the bed and peeled back the covers.
His big body edged just far enough onto the mattress that he wouldn’t slip off.
What was he doing all the way over there?
His head smooshed into the pillow, the scarred side of his face catching the moonlight, and I waited on a stuck breath for him to scoot over. He didn’t.
Smooth bamboo crinkled under my skin as I inched closer. “I want you next to me.”
Disbelief cracked in his voice when he whispered, “Really?”
“More than anything. I love when you’re close.” I ran my fingertip down his longest scar. It was a faded pink river from his forehead to his chin, disappearing only on his eyelid and clawing off into jagged lines around his mouth and chin. “Do the scars ever hurt?”
“They randomly itch, and my cheek aches when it’s going to rain sometimes, but it’s fine. Could have been worse…”
“Could have been worse…” I murmured, tracing one of the jagged lines to his lips. I brushed my finger over the top and laughed when he pecked a kiss that made my skin tingle.
“I remember the day this happened,” I said.
“I don’t.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded. “I only remember Mim holding my hand in the helicopter. I kept asking her if I was actually flying to the hospital.”
“They said an ambulance wouldn’t have gotten you there quick enough.”
His brow furrowed. “Did you see the accident?”
“No. I was sitting under the old elm on the hill with Lila. She was daydreaming about Cole, of course… Nothing much was happening, and then it was chaos. A hundred voices started shouting all at once. I recognized your dad’s. He was screaming for help. Lila started bawling.”
“Not you?”
I shook my head. “I ran straight down. Well… I actually ended up sliding most of the way. I skinned my knees so bad. By the time I got there, your dad had ripped off his shirt and was holding it on your face. The blood had already soaked all the way through. I’d never seen so much blood.
I didn’t know what to do, so I took off my sweater and gave it to him. ”
“Did I see you?”
“Yeah.” I laughed. “You said, ‘I think the tractor punched me in the face.’ And I said, ‘Yeah, something got you good.’ You were so, so white. You were shaking all over.”
“Shock.”
“Probably.”
“Dad was angry at me, you know. He’d already shooed me back to the house because he wanted to teach Cole something, and I was always in the way, trying to overhear everything.
He tried to stop me from going back after they’d patched me up, too.
Said he didn’t need any more of that hoo-ha. I’ve always been a pain in his ass.”
“He probably said that because he was scared you’d get hurt again. When the helicopter left to take you to the hospital, oh Cal… It was just so heartbreaking. He cried and cried. No one knew what to say to him, so the workers just all kind of went back to work and left him there.”
“I… I didn’t know that…”
“I think your dad worries about you more than he’s willing to admit. People aren’t always good at saying how they feel.”
“People like you?” Callan slid a cautious hand under the sheets. A shiver rippled over my skin when his fingertips brushed along the curve of my waist. “Is that why you’re naked in my bed?”
“I wanted to show you I’m ready… that I can be brave… and not always be the last one to dive in…”
Callan’s eyes screwed shut, and he groaned, “Ez, you can’t say things like that.”
“Why not? It’s true.”
Silence swayed in an unsteady rhythm as he traced a lazy pattern along my spine, his eyes on me, not blinking. Doubt was holding him back. I edged closer. The dusting of sparse hair on his chest pressed warm and crinkly into my skin. My heart thumped a little faster.