11. Cavil
Cavil
I leaned against the side of the truck, letting the cold bite into me. The snow was steady now, soft flakes settling on my jacket before vanishing into damp spots that clung to the fabric. I didn’t mind the cold—it kept my thoughts sharp. Kept them from drifting where I didn’t want them to go.
Still, they wandered.
Callie’s laugh echoed in my memory, clear and bright in a way that cut through more than just the silence.
It had stuck with me since last night—lodged somewhere behind my ribs, warm and uninvited.
The way her eyes lit up talking about Mrs. Winslow…
she’d looked alive. Comfortable. Like the version of her that hadn’t been hollowed out by what Leo did.
Whatever that was.
I shouldn't care.
I knew that.
It wasn't my business.
But…
I still didn't understand why. Why someone could walk away from… her.
I pulled a crate from the back, letting the weight ground me. It scraped against the truck bed, and I welcomed the sound, the roughness of it. Simple. Tangible. None of the messy threads Callie tangled up in me lately.
The latch stuck again, rusted and stubborn like everything in this damn town that refused to let go.
I worked it loose with stiff fingers, more grateful for the resistance than I should’ve been.
Anything to keep me from replaying the way she leaned into me last night—unthinking, familiar. Like she used to.
Like she still could.
That thought twisted in my gut. She was Leo’s ex. No matter how different we were—how much I wanted to believe I wasn’t like him—there were lines that shouldn’t be crossed. Lines that started to blur the moment I let myself care.
The latch finally gave with a groan, snapping me out of it. I wiped my hands on my jeans, ready to toss the crate into storage—when a voice rang out behind me.
“Cavil!”
My whole body tensed.
I turned slowly. And there he was—Leo—standing like he owned the lot, shoulders squared and that same smug grin tugging at his mouth.
Perfect timing.
He walked toward me, snowflakes catching in his hair, hands in his coat pockets like this was just another casual run-in. Like we didn’t have years of damage between us.
“What do you want?” I asked, already done with whatever game he thought we were playing.
He stopped a few feet away and gave a lazy shrug. “Just wanted to catch up.”
Bullshit.
Of all the nights for him to show up, it had to be this one.
The one where, for the first time in too damn long, something almost felt right.
Leo stepped closer, his grin curdling into something meaner. The air between us tightened. He was always theatrical—drama clinging to him like smoke—but today, it stank of something heavier. Resentment, maybe. Or desperation.
“You always were the good son, huh?” he said. “Even tried to steal the girl I left behind.”
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Let the silence stretch. Men like Leo fed on reactions.
He wanted a fight. That was clear. He always did.
Another step, close enough for our shadows to merge against the side of the truck. “You playing house now? Dropping off cookies and pretending you’re not just like me?” His gaze sharpened. “And here I thought you hated her, with the way you ignored her when we were together.”
Hated. No. That wasn’t it. But the truth was heavier than anything he could understand.
“Callie doesn’t belong to you,” I said. My voice stayed even. “She never did.”
His expression flickered. Just for a moment.
I didn’t move. Didn’t let the anger touch me. This wasn’t about me. It never was. Leo had always needed someone to blame. Someone to spit venom at when the world didn’t bend the way he wanted it to.
“Go home,” I said. “Before you say something you can’t take back.”
That got him. Not because it was a threat—but because I meant it.
And he knew I always did.
Leo’s smile twisted sharp, cruel. He narrowed his eyes, feeding off the tension like a man starving. “Hero at my expense, right? That’s what this is about? You think playing the good Samaritan makes you better than me?”
I didn’t answer. Didn’t blink. I turned, the gravel crunching beneath my boots, his voice trailing behind me like the echo of a past I’d already buried once.
But Leo wasn’t the kind to let silence win.
“You think you can just swoop in and play savior while I’m gone?” he said, closing the gap again. “Just because you’ve got a little hero complex doesn’t mean she’ll forget who really hurt her.”
I stopped. Slowly turned. My fists didn’t rise, but the restraint in them was loud enough.
“This isn’t about you,” I said, voice low and firm. “And it sure as hell isn’t about playing hero. It’s about Callie. She deserves better than the wreckage you left behind.”
He raised a brow. Smirked like it was all a joke. He always did enjoy the sound of things cracking—glass, bones, people.
“I’m not your enemy,” I added, holding his gaze. “But I’m not going to let you drag her down again.”
Leo’s grin widened, smug and sharp-edged. “You sure about that?”
I didn’t reply. No point.
The worst kind of fight was the one that dragged you backward. Into old habits. Old wars. He wanted to bait me into something ugly. Something familiar.
But I’d learned the hard way—some battles weren’t won by drawing blood. Some were won by walking away.
So I turned again. Stepped toward the truck. One step, then another. Grounded. Calm.
“Don’t walk away now!” he shouted. “You think she’ll want someone who plays second best?”
I kept walking.
She deserved peace. And I wasn’t about to hand her another war.
“You think because you followed in Father’s footsteps, you’re better than me,” Leo snapped. His words were sharp, meant to cut. He always aimed for the softest spots.
I didn’t blink. My jaw tightened, but I held the line. “I enlisted because it was the right thing to do.”
He laughed—a bitter sound. Hollow. “Right thing? No, you ran. You couldn’t face the wreckage back home. You got out. I stayed.”
The words landed. Not like a blow—more like an echo. One I’d lived with for years. I didn’t need him to say it. I’d told myself worse.
“You think I wanted to be at home with Mum and Brad?” he asked, not shouting, not calm either—just tired. “Dad’s best friend…” My voice thinned. “He should’ve been loyal. But the second Dad was in the ground—”
“Don’t,” I warned, low and sharp.
Leo stepped closer, feeding on the edge I tried to keep buried. “Why not? You’re still hiding from the truth. Just like always. Only difference is, I’m not your buddy. I’m your brother.”
The word hung heavy. It used to mean something.
“You might have medals,” he went on. “Might have stories they pin to your chest. But you’re still a coward.”
That word hit harder than it should have. Because part of me believed it.
“Living in some quiet, American town, acting like distance rewrites the past. Like not going home erases what happened.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said finally. It wasn’t a defense. Just a fact. One he’d never accept.
He didn’t respond, but the weight between us lingered—old wounds and words we never learned to say right. We were two sides of the same broken mirror, each reflecting the part the other couldn’t face.
I turned. Not to run. But because I refused to fight the same war twice.
Let him stand there with his accusations. I had my own ghosts to carry—and they didn’t scream quite so loud anymore.
I could feel Leo behind me—watching, waiting, circling like a dog that mistook silence for weakness.
Then came the laugh. Cold. Bitter. Familiar.
“The thing about Callie is,” he said, voice dipped in poison, “she always had a thing for strays. Loved a good pity project. Must be nice, being her newest broken toy. Just don’t get confused when she screams my name while you’re fu—”
I didn’t hear the rest.
Didn’t need to.
The words blurred. The world narrowed. A familiar heat rose—slow at first, then blinding. Years of silence, restraint, control—burned up in a breath.
I turned.
My fist moved faster than thought. Bone met bone, clean and sharp. Leo stumbled, eyes wide for half a second before the blood came.
And still—he smiled. Of course he did.
“Nice shot,” he muttered, dragging a thumb across his split lip. “Knew you had it in you.”
I didn’t answer. The ache in my knuckles was nothing compared to the deeper pull in my chest. The part of me that still wanted to hurt him. Not because of what he said—but because he meant it. Every venom-laced word.
“This isn’t a game,” I said, voice low.
Leo stepped forward, fists loose but raised. “Could’ve fooled me. You’ve been waiting for this longer than you’ll admit.”
He wasn’t wrong. But that didn’t make him right.
Leo circled closer, a grin pulling at his mouth like a loaded weapon.
“It’s almost sweet, you know,” he sneered.
“You—quiet, cold Cavil—playing house with her. Like you think she’s gonna save you from yourself.
But you’re not a man she can fix. You’re just another broken thing she’ll bury next to Dad when she’s done pretending.
” His words sliced deeper than fists ever could, but Leo didn’t stop.
“You think she loves you? She pities you. She always has. That’s the only reason she looks at you the way she used to look at me. ”
I moved before I even registered the decision. The first punch cracked across Leo’s jaw, sending him reeling a step.
But Leo came back fast, laughing through the blood on his teeth as he swung low, catching me in the ribs.
We slammed into the side of the truck, metal groaning under our weight.
Fists collided with bone, boots scraped gravel, breath came ragged and hot.
It wasn’t clean or choreographed—just years of resentment let loose, raw and ugly.
I didn’t speak, didn’t taunt. I let the silence hit harder than my fists, each blow landing with the weight of all the things I’d never said.
Leo caught me across the cheek, knuckles tearing skin, but I didn’t back down. I drove Leo into the snow, knee to his chest, fists hammering down until Leo spat curses and blood in the same breath.
“You care about her?” Leo choked out, gasping. “Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought. She’s going to leave you, Cav. Just like everyone else.”
The punch landed hard—bone on bone, clean and deserved. A flash of pain lanced through my knuckles, but it barely registered. I was already pulling back for another strike when Christian stepped in, arm outstretched like a damn shield.
“Cavil!” he barked. No hesitation. Just the voice of a man who wasn’t asking.
I froze—barely. My breath dragged heavy through my nose, every muscle taut and ready to finish what Leo started.
My vision tunneled, narrowed to rage and blood and the grin still smeared across Leo’s mouth like a scar.
Christian stood his ground, firm and calm, as if that alone could hold me together.
“Move,” I said, low and sharp. The warning was clear, but he didn’t flinch.
“Just breathe.” His gaze locked on mine. Quiet. Unshakable. “You’re not him. You never were. Don’t let him turn you into the version of yourself he needs you to be.”
That hit harder than the punch.
I didn’t speak. Just stood there, heart pounding, jaw tight enough to crack teeth.
Across the lot, Leo backed away like he’d already won—smirking, satisfied, like chaos was a gift he could leave behind and still own.
That smug look stayed burned in my mind long after he disappeared into the shadows.
Christian turned slightly, tracking him for a beat, then gave a small shake of his head and pointed toward the steps of The Book Nook. I didn’t want to sit. I didn’t want calm. I wanted distance—or a second round. But eventually, the fire in my chest dulled just enough to move.
I sank down beside him, elbows on my knees, hands still curled tight. The silence between us settled thick and cold.
“Let it go,” he said quietly.
“I can’t.” The words left before I had time to swallow them. “He gets under my skin.”
Christian studied me. “You care about her?”
I gave the barest nod.
“Then don’t give her a man who fights ghosts. Show her the one who stayed.”
A bitter sound escaped my throat—almost a laugh, but not quite. “What if she’s better off without either of us? What if he’s right?”
Christian gave me a look—sharp, clean, final. “People get second chances,” he said, voice low but cutting, “but only if they stop looking backward.”
The words landed hard. Not loud, not fast—just true. They settled over me like snowfall, slow and suffocating. I shifted on the step, the cold from the concrete biting through my jeans. My hands flexed, looking for something to hold onto, but there was nothing.
“I should’ve stepped in sooner,” I said, the words dry in my mouth. “When they were together.” A pause. Then something heavier, harder. “I knew what Leo was. Knew he’d hurt her like he always does. And he did.”
“That’s not on you,” Christian replied, steady.
But it didn’t feel that simple.
“There was always something about her,” I said, quietly, almost to myself. “Something… different. I saw it. And it scared me.”
“So you backed off.”
I nodded once, eyes locked on a crack in the pavement. Nothing profound. Just a fracture—quiet, splitting the surface the way guilt split you clean down the middle. I didn’t speak again for a while. Neither did he.
“Leo leaves wreckage everywhere he goes,” I muttered eventually. Shame stirred low and deep, crawling beneath my skin like frost creeping under a locked door. “And now I’m here, trying to clean up what he broke.”
Christian leaned in slightly, just enough for our shoulders to touch. A small thing. But it helped. Anchored me.
“She keeps coming back,” I said. “And I don’t understand why.”
He looked out across the lot, expression unreadable. “Maybe she sees something worth coming back to.”
The wind pushed through town like it was chasing ghosts. It hissed through the trees lining Main Street, lifting old leaves and older memories. I stared into it, unsure of what I was trying to find.
“She deserves more than what I’ve given her,” I said into the dark, not expecting an answer.
Christian let out a quiet laugh—more breath than sound. “Then give it to her,” he said. “Don’t waste time trying to rewrite the past. You’re not that man anymore.”
And for the first time in a long time, I almost believed him.