43. Noelle
Chapter forty-three
Noelle
“I didn’t think it was possible, but you really have gotten worse,” Cal said, gripping my elbows as I teetered on my skates.
“I tried to tell you,” I grumbled. His idea of a date was strapping killer blades to my feet and shuffling around a frozen surface.
I wasn’t clumsy like Macy, but neither was I graceful.
I probably should have told him I wasn’t sure my legs would keep me upright after the flare-up, but he’d been so excited, I didn’t have the heart to tell him how much I was hurting.
Plus, I was tired of lying around. Time with him was worth the effort.
Cal chuckled, and it echoed lightly in the deserted Palace Arena. He’d pulled some strings and gotten us in here for a private skate. “I thought you were joking. But this is actually turning out better than I thought.”
“Uh . . . how?”
“I have you exactly where I want you.” His dimple popped with a flirty smile. “In my arms.”
My face burned. “You can’t say things like that.”
“Oh? Care to enlighten me why not?”
“So many reasons.” My ankles wobbled, and my back twinged as I tried to correct my balance.
Cal caught me against his chest, slowing us to a stop. He smirked down at me, eyes sparkling. “Name one, Holiday, or I’ll know you’re stalling.”
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to hold his gaze. Kindness and trust shone out of those gorgeous blue eyes. Because it would be so easy to let myself fall for you, and I’m terrified of hurting you again. “How can you not hate me? I hate myself for what I did.”
His teasing smile faded into something more gentle.
“Because I believe in forgiveness and grace, Elle. In the beginning I was mad, and I did blame you. After I grew up a bit, I had to look in the mirror and realize there were two people in our relationship, and it wasn’t fair to put all the blame on your shoulders. ”
I took a shuddering breath. “Nate didn’t want to be with me because I can’t do all the things I used to anymore, and you keep being Mr. Flirty Pants after I literally ran away from our wedding.”
Cal cupped my cheek. “I’m not him, Noelle. And I’m not the punk kid I used to be. I know what I want and I know the risks involved.” His eyes traced my face, like he was committing me to memory. “You’ve always been my person, and I’ll be darned if I don’t grab a hold of a second chance with you.”
“Why?”
He kissed my forehead and carefully eased us back into a forward motion. “I don’t think you’re ready for that confession yet.”
“Callan, please.”
He stopped abruptly, and I careened into his chest. Yup, he’s solid. “Say it again.”
I frowned up at him, holding onto his arms for balance. “Please?”
“My name,” he said huskily. “You’re the only one who ever made me like it. Mama only uses it when I’m in trouble, which is far from appealing. But you?” He brushed a loose curl behind my ear. “I love when you say it, and I’ve been waiting a long time for it, woman.”
“Callan James, confess,” I dared.
His eyes darkened. “Because I still love you. Not for what you do or don’t do, not because you’re the closest unmarried female in my life I’m not related to.
Not because my daughter loves you, which she absolutely does.
But because you’re you. The girl I grew up with who knows all my embarrassing moments and laughs at my jokes.
The woman I fell in love with.” He cupped my cheek.
“My love doesn’t have conditions, Elle.”
The sweet words wrapped me up in a hug. “What’s going on here?” I motioned between us.
“Sweetheart, if you have to ask, I’m not doing a very good job of it.”
“Cal,” I whispered, pressing a hand to his chest. “This. Us. We had a chance, and I messed it up.”
“We messed it up. I did my fair share of being selfish back then.”
I swallowed hard. Was there anything more attractive than a man taking responsibility for his actions instead of blaming it all on someone else? “I broke your heart. Aren’t you afraid I’ll hurt you again?”
“Not particularly.” His gaze tenderly traced my face, leaving a trailing inferno.
“I can’t imagine anything hurting more than the last thirteen years of silence between us.
” His hands settled on my waist. “This isn’t something I took lightly.
I’ve prayed for this. For you. If by some miracle God gave me a second chance to love you, I promised I wouldn’t mess it up.
That I wouldn’t let you go again. Because I wasn’t convinced our story was finished.
” He cleared his throat. “I should have chased you. I should have been listening.”
Tears slipped over my cheeks like rain, and his thumb wiped at the drops. “I’m broken. There’s no fix for this.” I motioned over my body. “Sometimes I can barely get out of bed. Or I can’t do my dishes or housework for three days because I’m too tired. And—”
He kissed my forehead, stilling my waterfall of words.
“Elle, I love you. Broken pieces, flaws, freckles, and all.” His firm declaration caressed my skin like silk, settling over me like a blanket.
“We can face anything together. Let me take care of you. Be the person you can depend on. I swear to you, I’m listening this time.
” He brushed a thumb over my cheekbones. “I’m not making that mistake again.”
“Okay.”
“That’s all?” he asked with surprise.
“You’ve got a way with words, Cap.” The old nickname slipped out easily.
His eyes turned roguish. “I’ve got something else I’d like to tell you, no words required. And then I’m taking you home to rest.”
“Oh yeah?”
He tipped my chin up. “Unless you oppose, I’m going to kiss you.”
Oppose? Absolutely not. The memory of his kisses had haunted me for years. I smiled and leaned into him.
Cal took it for the permission it was. His big hand slid behind my neck, tangling in my loose curls. His lips hovered over mine for a moment, so close yet so far—waiting—until finally they brushed over mine.
Once.
Twice.
Warmth flooded my veins. Sparkles danced behind my eyes as they fluttered shut. I fisted the back of his denim jacket and let his kiss sweep me away. If his arm hadn’t wrapped around my waist, pulling me tightly against his broad chest, I’d have fallen clean over.
I remembered this kiss. His touch, strong and steady. Familiar like my favourite sweater. A decadent piece of dark chocolate. But it was different too. We weren’t nineteen anymore, figuring things out. We had shared memories and heartache.
Lightly squeezing my waist, he deepened the kiss. It was soft and claiming all at once, filled with hundreds of things we couldn’t find the words for. The tension eased out of my body. Kissing was an effective painkiller, and for once, my mind was deliciously quiet.
Cal felt like home. And I never wanted to kiss anyone else again.