35. Callum #2
I stripped my shirt over my head and pushed her down onto the mattress, following her like gravity. My hands skimmed up her thighs, her waist, memorizing every curve, every shiver. She was flushed, pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths.
“You are,” I said roughly, kissing the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, then lower. “You always were.”
When her nails dug into my back and her hips lifted to meet me, I knew there was no going slow.
Only going deep.
We moved together like we’d been made for it—like every argument, every misstep, every aching moment of almost had been leading here. Her legs wrapped around my waist, anchoring me to the earth. Her hands tangled in my hair, in the sheets, in me.
She whispered my name like a tether. I answered with her name like a vow.
There was nothing rushed about it, but everything was urgent. Everything mattered.
Every gasp.
Every bite.
Every time her hips lifted to meet mine like we couldn’t get close enough.
I watched her fall apart, her eyes locked on mine, her lips parted in a soundless cry. When I followed, I buried my face in her neck and let go.
Let everything go.
When it was over, we didn’t move. Just lay tangled together in the sweat-damp sheets, her breath warm on my shoulder, my heartbeat slowly steadying under her palm.
I kissed her temple, then her cheek, then her jaw. Each brush of my lips was a silent promise that everything would be okay.
Elodie’s sated breath was still warm against my shoulder when my phone rang.
For a moment I ignored it—eyes closed, body tangled with hers in the quiet aftermath of everything that had been building between us. Her legs were looped loosely with mine beneath the sheets, her fingers still skimming gentle lines along my ribs.
The phone buzzed again and my body tensed .
“Don’t,” she murmured, sleep-soft and unwilling to move.
The second I saw Brody’s name, the haze cleared. “El,” I said, my voice too quiet. “I have to take this.”
She was already sitting up, clutching the blanket to her chest.
I answered on the second ring. “What is it, man?”
Brody didn’t waste time. “There was an accident. Hayes and Wes. It’s bad.”
Everything in my mind went still, but my body was moving, searching for my clothes and tugging up my jeans. “An accident?”
I put the phone on speaker so Elodie could hear.
“From what I could gather, Hayes’s truck was broken down. Wes came to help and a driver hit them. Hayes is pretty banged up. A few minor cuts, shaken up. They’re still checking him out now, but Wes—he took the brunt of it. He got hit protecting Hayes.”
I closed my eyes. “Fuck.”
Brody’s voice was grim. “They’re both at the hospital. I’m here now.”
“I’ll be there.” I ended the call and looked at Elodie, who was already pulling on her own clothes.
“I’m calling Selene and Kit. Someone needs to be there for Hayes. I can stay with Levi until we figure it out,” she said, her voice calm but tight. “Wes needs you and Levi shouldn’t be alone tonight.”
I nodded, reaching for her hand. “Thank you. I’ll call as soon as I know anything.”
She leaned in and kissed me softly—no pretense, no hesitation. Just us.
Then she slipped out, and I was left with nothing but the echo of her kiss and the sick feeling in my gut. I watched as Elodie pulled her phone to her ear, already making calls as she hurried across the grass toward the Drifted Spirit. She ducked through the fence and was swallowed by the darkness.
I dragged a hand over my face and took a breath. Wes and Hayes didn’t need me freaking out. I made my way to my truck, pulling a wide circle and driving as fast as I could toward the hospital.
The hospital waiting room always smelled the same—sterile, metallic, and exhausted.
I walked in to find Brody standing near the vending machines, arms crossed tight over his chest, his police radio clipped to his shoulder like a second skin. His expression was grim.
He didn’t bother with preamble. “Hayes has a few bruises and a busted lip. Lucky, all things considered. Wes pushed him out of the way when the driver came around the bend too fast.”
My throat burned.
“Fuck.” Brody scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Wes took the hit straight on. Broken ribs, punctured lung. His leg is in bad shape, but they won’t say much until the surgeon sees it.”
I sank into one of the hard plastic chairs like my bones had given out.
“He just ... reacted?” I asked.
Brody nodded. “Didn’t think. Just moved.”
Of course he did. That was Wes. In the Army, he’d had this calm about him, like he was built for chaos and pain. Wes was always the first to jump in, never waiting to see whether someone else would do it.
Brody sat down beside me. His movements were slower than usual. Measured .
For a long minute, we didn’t speak.
Finally, he said, “You okay?”
I exhaled, shaking my head once. “No.”
“Same.”
The silence between us was thick. Not awkward—just full. It was the kind of quiet that came when you’d seen too much, felt too much, and still didn’t know what to do with any of it.
“What else is eating you?” Brody finally asked.
“I don’t even know where to start.” I stared at a scuff mark on the linoleum.
When Brody sat patiently, I started prattling on. “I’ve been holding on to this idea. Of who I was supposed to be. What I was supposed to do with my life.”
Brody didn’t interrupt.
I looked over at him. “But what the fuck are we even doing? All it takes is one distracted driver and everything’s gone?” My thoughts spiraled as my anxiety crept higher. “What if I’ve been gripping so tight that I can’t see what’s right in front of me?”
His brow creased. “Are you talking about the farm?”
I hesitated, then nodded. “I thought if I could just make this one thing happen—if I could get it right—it would mean something. That my life would make sense.”
Brody studied me for a second. “There’s nothing wrong with chasing a dream, Cal.”
“No,” I said, my voice low. “But maybe it was never the right dream. Or maybe it’s the right one for someone else.” I exhaled, not making sense. “Fuck, I don’t even know ...”
Brody’s expression softened, the corners of his mouth tipping into something that wasn’t quite a smile.
“You know what Wes said to me last week? We were sitting on his porch, talking about nothing. He looked out at the lake and said, ‘I think sometimes we wait too long to start living like it’s already ours.’”
My throat closed up. If Wes didn’t make it out of this okay, I was going to lose my shit.
“He’s right, you know,” Brody added. “We keep waiting for the moment things fall into place. But sometimes we have to choose it first.”
Silence stretched between us as I let his words settle over me.
I didn’t say what I was thinking. I had already made my choice. What mattered most to me had nothing to do with real estate or menus or a return on investment.
Elodie had let me in, and I was going to fight like hell to keep that door open—for her, for us. Even if she never knew what it cost me.
A nurse stepped into the waiting room, calling Brody’s name. He stood slowly and glanced down at me.
“You coming?”
“I just need a minute,” I said.
When he disappeared down the hallway, I leaned back in the chair and stared at the stained ceiling tiles. My heart thudded out a rhythm I’d heard in a thousand different ways before—on long marches, in active combat, in moments when everything was about to shift.
And I knew.
I knew with everything in me what I had to do next.
The dream I had imagined was beautiful, but it wasn’t mine anymore.
She was.