Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
“Oh my God. Did that really just happen?”
Lily closed her eyes and leaned back against the brick wall just outside the entrance of the pub, her breath puffing into the cold night air.
Snow drifted down in lazy spirals, dusting her red curls and catching in her lashes like glitter.
Her sexy mouth curved in a grin, and for the first time since he’d walked into the pub and seen her, the tension was gone from her face, replaced by laughter.
Fierce satisfaction settled in his chest at that look.
The tight, pinched expression she’d worn while staring down that smug asshole ex of hers was gone, replaced by the smile he hadn’t stopped thinking about in a month.
Rush leaned a shoulder against the wall and didn’t even try to hide the way he stared.
Her cheeks were flushed a deep, rosy pink.
Her hair was down tonight, those soft wild curls spilling over the shoulders of her coat, a far cry from the tight, efficient little bun she’d worn the last time he saw her.
The wool hugged her close, but he’d caught sight of the dark-green dress underneath from inside the pub.
Sleek, clinging to her curves, and skimming over her waist and thighs in a way that made it hard to tear his eyes away.
A snowflake landed on her bottom lip, the pillowy, perfect pink mouth he’d kissed. Tasted. Bitten. He couldn’t look away. Her tongue peeked out and swept across it absently. Lust slammed into him, brutal and sharp, making every muscle in his body tense.
She looked relaxed. Radiant. Beautiful.
And he wanted her so badly it physically hurt.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.
She opened her eyes and smiled. “Yeah. I mean—no. But I will be. That was humiliating.”
“You didn’t look humiliated. You were holding your own.”
“Until you rescued me? Again?” Lily added ruefully.
Rush studied her, trying to pull himself back in. Her breath was coming in shallow little puffs, and he knew her well enough now to recognize the signs. “Shit. I shouldn’t have brought you out here in the cold. Do you have your inhaler?”
“Yes,” she gasped, already searching her purse. “I’m fine.”
“You say that every time you can’t breathe,” he said dryly.
She took out the inhaler and puffed on it twice, pausing between inhales to hold the medicine in her lungs before replying. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”
He raised an eyebrow, not sure he wanted to know what she meant. “Meaning?”
“You have white-knight syndrome. Always there when the ladies need you.” She tried to laugh, but it came out tight as she struggled to breathe in the cold air.
He rolled a shoulder and looked out over Main Street instead of at her, uncomfortably aware of the accuracy of that statement. “I’m sorry if I overstepped,” he said.
She stared back at him, her eyes suddenly serious and more direct than he’d ever seen her look. “I know what it looked like in there.” She winced. “But I don’t need any more people treating me like I’m fragile.”
“Hell, I know that,” he said gruffly, his voice low and rough. “That’s not why I did it.”
Unable to resist, he reached up and gently tucked a wild curl behind her ear, letting his fingers linger just a moment on the smooth warmth of her skin. He didn’t miss the way her breath hitched and her pupils widened slightly in the dim light, or how her lips parted just a little.
“You really sold it in there,” she said huskily. They were just a step apart now. Their breaths puffed out icy-cold puffs that mingled together. “That boyfriend act. All growly and possessive.”
Rush stared down at her and let his gaze drop to her mouth lazily. Tension coiled inside him. “Wasn’t much of an act,” he murmured. “If you were mine, I’d spend every damn day making sure you knew it.”
Lily’s playful smile faltered, and they stood that way, eyes locked on each other, for a beat.
The silence between them was heavy with something else.
Something unsettled and unfinished. The connection between them hit him like a gut check again.
The first woman he’d even looked twice at in the last year, and she was staring at him like she could see directly into his soul.
“So why did you do it?” she asked, too gently.
There it was, glaring at him. He knew Lily Hart didn’t need saving.
She was strong. Smart. Capable as hell, even with the air of vulnerability he knew she tried to hide.
But when he’d seen Tucker Cawthorn tower over her, smug and condescending like he hadn’t been caught fucking another woman, something in him had snapped.
He hated drama. Avoided it like the plague. But when she reached for the little pink stone around her neck, he was crossing the room before he even knew what he was doing. He’d acted on instinct, like he always did when someone needed help. She was right about that.
He’d spent his life protecting people, especially women.
What the Callahan family didn’t talk about was the night their mother died.
Christina Callahan had packed up Rush, Rachel, and Sarah in the middle of the night, still in their pajamas, and bundled them into the back seat.
The little girls were half asleep, clutching their stuffed animals, and hastily thrown together overnight bags.
Rush remembered the curve of the dry Texas highway, the black stretch of road ahead. His mom’s white knuckles on the steering wheel, the sudden glare of headlights from a truck taking the bend too fast. The screech of tires. The sickening crunch of metal.
Mostly, he remembered her voice, calm even after their car slammed into the guardrail and twisted to a stop. “Rush, are you okay? Okay, be careful now. Get the girls out.”
He’d shoved the panic down and done what she’d asked, unbuckling his sisters from their car seats, dragging them clear of the wrecked car. A bystander stayed with them while Rush went back for his mom. He’d tried so hard, but the front end had crumpled inward, pinning her in place.
Her face was bloody, and her voice was shaky, but she kept talking to him even as the firefighters arrived with the Jaws of Life.
“You’re okay, baby. Take care of the girls. You’re going to be okay. I love you.”
He’d always loved his mother’s voice. She used to sing to him and the girls at night, and he’d pretend not to listen because he was a boy and older and not a baby like his sisters, but he’d always secretly listened.
Christina Callahan had already started fading away on the side of the road on that hot, sticky night, but she spent her last moments comforting her three kids.
He remembered the smell of motor oil and felt the heat of twisted metal. He’d held Rachel’s hand and pressed Sarah’s head down into his shoulder so she wouldn’t see their mother’s broken body being cut from the wreck.
He hadn’t saved her.
But he’d spent the rest of his life trying to save everyone else.
Their father had been gone long before that night.
He’d dragged them from state to state, chasing jobs that never lasted, until one day he just didn’t come back.
After that, their mother had done it all—worked shifts at a diner, paid the bills, and kept the three of them fed and clothed.
She was strong, but she was tired, and somewhere along the way, she let someone into her life who made things harder instead of easier.
After the night of the accident, it was decided that the kids would move to New York to live with Gram and Pop.
They loved them fiercely and gave them a safe home, but Rush had made a promise.
No one had asked him to step in, but he did—taking care of Rachel and Sarah the way his mom had told him to.
When he left home at eighteen, it wasn’t to escape; it was to serve. First in the Marines and then in the sheriff’s department. He traded one uniform for another, but he never stopped protecting. It was the one thing he knew how to do.
Service was the only space he knew how to put all the things he didn’t have words for—guilt, grief, loyalty, love. He never unpacked those feelings, but they were always there.
He couldn’t save his mother, but damned if he wouldn’t spend the rest of his life trying to make up for it.
Except the one time he hadn’t been able to.
The dark little reminder twisted his gut.
Lily shivered beside him, pulling her thin coat tighter around her and stamping her feet in her flimsy leather boots. He frowned. She was a native upstate New Yorker. She should know better. That coat and those boots wouldn’t hold off a stiff breeze, much less a Northfield winter.
“Come on,” he said abruptly, jerking his head toward his Chevy parked under the streetlight on Main. “Let’s get you warm. I’ll take you home.”
Lily nodded, falling into step beside him. The snow crunching under their boots was unnaturally loud in the silence. When they reached the truck, Rush opened the passenger door for her, and she climbed in with a murmured “Nice truck” while running her hand along the worn brown leather seat.
“Thanks. Pop handed it down.” He closed the door and rounded the hood. He exhaled hard, watching his breath curl in the cold air. Gut check time.
What the hell are you doing, Callahan?
He was leaving in a month. No strings. No complications. He’d told her that, made sure she knew it before he let her take it a step further at the cabin, and now he’d just done exactly that. He knew better.
But as he slid into the driver’s seat and shot a glance over at her—huddled in her puffy jacket, pink cheeks glowing, snowflakes caught in her hair—he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. She was still breathing a little too fast, and an edge of worry slid under his ribs.
“You’re wheezing,” he said quietly.
“I’m fine,” Lily said.
He leaned over and turned the heat to full blast. Her scent—warm and sweet—filled the small cabin of the truck, curling under his skin. He shifted back, resting one wrist on the leather steering wheel, the other draped across the back of the bench seat.
“I can’t go home yet,” Lily said, almost apologetically. “Evie’s got a dinner date, and I don’t want to crash.”
“Then come to my place.”
Her eyes flicked to his, and just like that, the electric current between them roared back to life. He forced himself to take a steadying breath and tried to ignore the way his body went haywire when she was this close.
“I did just stick my nose in your business,” he added with a shrug. “Least I can do is let you yell at me in private.”
His phone lit up with an incoming FaceTime call just as hers buzzed from somewhere in the folds of her coat.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
He checked the screen. Sarah. Decline. Almost immediately, a message lit the screen. Rachel this time.
You have a GIRLFRIEND and you didn’t tell us?? Kaylin saw you at the pub!!! You were SMILING with your FACE. Explain or we’re coming over!
Lily pulled her phone from her pocket. “Three texts from Amber, one from Allie, and Evie just sent me a teacup emoji.” She groaned. “I can’t believe how fast this is spreading.”
She checked her phone again and winced. “And now my mom wants to know when you’re coming to Sunday dinner.”
“It’s Northfield,” Rush said dryly. “By now, my sisters have probably already stalked your socials and planned our wedding.”
“Oh my God,” Lily said, leaning against the headrest. “We need damage control. How are we going to get out of this?”
Rush glanced over at her again, his eyes catching on the way she pulled her lip into her mouth and bit it. The surge of heat in his spine doubled. She really needed to stop doing that.
“I’ll think of something,” he said evenly. The wheels were already turning. If there was one thing he was good at, it was getting out of tight situations.
“Okay.”
He put the Chevy in gear and glanced at her again. She was watching him with those wide green eyes, calm and trusting. More trusting than she should be.
A snapshot of the last time she was in his truck flickered through his mind. Lily in her wedding dress, snow melting in her curls, looking at him with those calm, trusting green eyes.
He hadn’t hesitated then.
And he didn’t want to now.
“We can talk at my house.”