Chapter 9 Callisto
CALLISTO
I lie down on my bed reading the smutty romance Jack picked up for me in town. The painfully slow burn finally breaks—he kisses her. The tension spills into something hungry, and my breath catches as I feel the whisper of a hand trailing down my abdomen.
“Do you need my help, darling?”
I keep reading, stomach flipping with each word as the characters start fucking in vivid detail. “I need it,” I whisper.
Pressure builds between my legs, and I let myself get lost in the hand drifting under the blanket. Attempting to quelch the growing need.
“Spread them wider for me.” And I do.
The lights begin to flicker, and I’m lost in the sensation. Entirely giving in to it. I need this.
“Calli, why the hell is your door locked?”
My door handle jiggles violently, followed by pounding.
Cade.
I jump, flushed and annoyed. Fuck him. Scrambling upright, I swing the door open.
“You trap me in this house like a prisoner, and now I can’t even have privacy?”
“If it means you’re safe—yes.”
“How about fuck you. What do you want?” I snap.
He smirks, pulling a small envelope from his back pocket.
“Jack got you a new ID. There’s also a credit card.”
My eyes widen, something akin to hope blooming in my chest. “Wait—does this mean I can leave?”
“You can go into town. But not without Jack. No risks. I get it—you need some freedom.”
I fight the sting of tears that threaten to fall. A warmth blooms in my chest. It’s not everything, but it’s something. I smile and wrap my arms around him. Maybe too tightly, because he stiffens, clearly hating it, but I don’t care.
“Thank you.”
He pulls back, locking eyes with me. “Don’t make me regret this. If anyone figures out who you are, we’re done.”
“I’ll be low-key, don’t worry.”
“You’ll do exactly what Jack says. Got it?”
I shrug and tuck the cards into my wallet, replacing my real ID.
“I’ll be back in a few days.”
He turns to leave, but I catch his sleeve. He only meets my eyes for a moment, jaw set, before I speak. “Be careful.”
He doesn’t respond, just nods and walks away.
I watch him disappear down the stairs, and for a second I feel it again.
That same gentle presence from when I gave him the pendulum.
I whisper into the silence, say, “Take care of him, okay? He doesn’t know it yet, but he needs you.
” As soon as my brother pulls out of the driveway, Jack sidles up next to me.
“Want to get out of here?”
“You have no idea.”
We’ve been driving for about thirty minutes before I finally speak up.
“So, where exactly are we going?”
“You’ll see,” Jack says with a big grin. “We’re almost there.”
“You better not be taking me to a fucking strip club, Jack.”
He laughs as he turns into a small gravel parking lot. There’s a little building with a sign that reads Carmalitas.
“A restaurant?” I ask, my brow raised in confusion.
“They have the best enchiladas. You’ll love it,” he says, pulling the keys from the ignition, stepping out of the truck, and turning to me. “C’mon, let’s go.”
I reluctantly exit the truck. The building looks old. Red, green, and white banners hang from the outdoor seating area.
He opens the door for me. “Ladies first.”
I give him the side-eye and walk past.
“Table for two?” the hostess asks with a smile.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jack speaks up.
She grabs two menus, ushering us to a booth in the back.
“Any suggestions?” I ask, sliding into my seat across from him.
He leans in excitedly, pointing to the menu. “You’re gonna want their chimichangas—they are to die for. Oh! And their deep-fried ice cream, and they have the best margaritas,” he says enthusiastically.
“I’m sorry… did you say deep-fried ice cream?” I look to where he is pointing on the menu. “How does that even work?”
“I think they freeze-dry it or something, but it’s amazing. Wanna try it?”
I nod slowly. “I will admit, I’m curious. Let’s get it.”
After we order, Jack jumps out of the booth and jogs up to our server, whispering something in her ear before coming back over.
“What was that?” I ask.
“You’ll see,” he says with a mischievous smile.
It doesn’t take long for our food to arrive.
I pick up my fork and take my first bite, and my Gods, it’s delicious.
I look up and see Jack is focused on his phone.
My heart drops. We shouldn’t be hearing from Cade until he gets to Allen’s last-known location, and that won’t be for a while. If it’s him, something could be wrong.
I speak through my full mouth.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he laughs, turning the phone to show a picture of me taking a very large, very unflattering bite of food.
I reach across the table to grab the phone, my mouth still full.
“Delete that!”
“No way! You look cute,” he says with a genuine smile.
I sit back in the seat, crossing my arms in protest, and decide to ignore him for the remainder of my meal.
I focus on the intricate wooden carvings on the booth behind him.
Images of cowboys riding horses, beautifully done.
It reminds me of Cade, and when he made me the most beautiful vanity with intricate roses carved on the sides.
I smile despite myself. It’s one of the few things I kept from our old house—how he combined his carving capabilities with my love of flowers was incredibly thoughtful.
It’s hard to picture him working on something so small and detailed.
But it’s his thing. Isolating himself in his workshop and eventually coming out with the most beautiful things.
It took me months to talk him out of building every piece of furniture in the house.
I wanted an actual couch, with cushions.
Not a damn bench that looks like it belongs in a museum.
My thoughts are interrupted when a loud bell rings behind me. I jump at the sound as four servers come to our table singing happy birthday. They drop a large sombrero on my head and slide two shots of clear liquid in front of me.
Not knowing how to respond, I sit there, smiling like an idiot while they sing. Jack, phone in hand, is smiling ear to ear, clearly recording the moment. I shoot him a death glare. It’s not even my birthday. As if he can read my mind, he shrugs.
“Free shots.”
He picks them up, handing me one. He drinks his and slams it on the table, and I follow his movements.
The burn going down my throat makes me wince, and I exhale as if I’m breathing fire.
The servers are cheering. I nod and thank them as they walk away, our server setting our check down on the table as I ask for our ice cream to go before she joins them.
“Was that completely necessary?” I ask.
“No, but watching your reaction was fucking worth it,” he says, smirking.
“What was in that shot?” I ask, taking a sip of the sweet tea I ordered.
“That, my dear, was tequila.”
“Okay, I’ll admit, this was fun,” I say, admiring the rim of the hat still on my head. “Do I get to keep this?”
The server walking past speaks before Jack can answer.
“No, you can leave it at the register on your way out.”
I look away, embarrassed, and Jack laughs.
“You’re a dick,” I say with venom before laughing with him.
“So.” He takes a breath. “You ready for our next stop?”
“I don’t think so.”
“No, I think you’re gonna like this one.”
I follow him to the front, reluctantly returning the beautiful sombrero to the hostess while he pays the bill.
The sky is just starting to get dark as we step out of the restaurant, the deep blue casting an eerie atmosphere over our parking spot.
Chills creep down my spine. For a moment—just a moment—I had almost forgotten about everything.
Even the thing I know is watching me. I pause, staring at the shadowy tree line.
“Calli,” Jack says with concern. “C’mon.”
I robotically move toward the truck as he leans over to open my door from the driver’s seat. I let myself sink into my seat, the leather squeaking under me.
“All right!” he says, clapping his hands together. “Ready to get your ass kicked?”
His words pull me out of whatever moment I was having.
“Uh…”
He pulls out a huge sack, and it jingles in his hand.
“We’re going to the fuckin’ arcade!” he says with an exaggerated, enthusiastic voice.
My shoulders perk up a bit. That actually sounds fun. I look at him with a faux-serious face.
“Just, please promise me it won’t involve any more singing.”
He laughs under his breath as he turns the key, shifts the truck into gear.
“Scout’s honor.”