Chapter 26 - Jensen
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Jensen
If it were possible to capture a moment and live in it forever, I would choose this one.
The rain has slowed outside, casting the room in a peaceful stillness.
Callie is dozing next to me, her legs entwined with mine, and one of her hands rests on the arm I have slung over her, holding her to my chest.
She’s so beautiful it hurts, and there’s definitely a small part of me that’s convinced that this entire thing is a dream.
Or a nightmare designed to torture me. I trail a finger down her arm, watching as her skin pebbles beneath my touch.
I love that I have that effect over her, the goosebumps on her flesh a sign that she’s as affected by my touch as I am by hers.
Fly with me, Jensen . My cheeks lift when I think of her whispered request, of the way her hands had pulled me closer, the way her mouth had opened for me.
I close my eyes, letting the memories flood my senses.
The sweet honey of her skin, the gentle brush of her fingertips across my body, the look in her beautiful eyes, so full of desire and certainty.
I could live in the memory of it all until the end of time and die a happy man, but I know I won’t get that lucky.
Already I can feel the shadows creeping in on me.
They’re lingering in the corners, waiting and biding their time until they can claim me again.
I’ve stopped trying to wish them away—wishing is pointless.
It changes nothing. These shadows are my punishment, my cross to bear.
Not even time with Callie can keep them at bay, at least not for long. They own me, now and forever.
I lean down and press a kiss to Callie’s temple. I don’t mean to wake her, but she stirs, her eyelids blinking slowly as they adjust to the low lighting of my bedroom. Her cheeks lift in a lazy, contented smile. “Hey, you,” she says, rolling over to face me.
“Hey, pretty girl.”
All I can think about is how much I want to kiss her, so I dip my head to capture her lips with mine.
She lets out a sound of approval, like the purring of a cat, wrapping an arm around my neck to pull me even closer.
I let myself get lost in the kiss, savoring the feel of her underneath my hands and the way her body fits so perfectly with mine.
If kissing her could somehow make things right, I’d spend the rest of my life just like this.
But absolution isn’t in the cards for me, and the old realization has me pulling back while the shadows cackle gleefully.
Callie studies my face, and I’m not sure exactly what she sees there, but her brows furrow. “Are you okay?”
“I’m better than I’ve been in a long time,” I tell her and mean it, though the truth is far more complicated. “How are you?” I’m a little nervous to hear her answer, and I brace myself.
She puts a hand to my face, tracing the outline of my nose, my lips, my jaw and then up to soothe the worry away from my forehead. “I’m perfect.”
I let out a breath, relief flooding through me.
I’ve gotten so used to hearing the worst that it always surprises me when something good happens.
My time with Callie has been nothing short of life-changing, and I hope she understands what today means to me, what she means to me.
But there’s a torrent of emotions swirling inside my chest that I’m struggling to process.
I swore to myself that I would never be in this place again, that I would never let anyone get this close. It was the only way I could survive.
But what do you do when the one thing you should stay away from is the very breath in your lungs?
I’m in love with this woman. Utterly and entirely, and as much as I want to deny it, as much as I want to protect us both from it, I can’t. There’s nowhere far enough that I can run, nothing that I can say that will make this work. It’s too late . . . and that absolutely terrifies me.
The panic swirling in my gut must show on my face because Callie’s expression changes, her brows knitting closer together. “Jensen?”
I hear her call my name, but the sound is distorted, like we’re underwater.
Black shapes dart across my field of vision, and it feels like there’s a 300-pound weight sitting on my chest. The pressure builds, threatening to crush me.
My hands reach for Callie, gripping her as if she can anchor me, but I’m slipping.
My lungs sputter with breaths coming too fast, too shallow.
“Jensen?” Callie sits up and pulls me upright. “Are you okay?”
I want to answer her, but I can’t. Gasping, my eyes find hers, swimming with worry. I’ve had attacks like this before, but I’ve never mentioned them to anyone. Not even Sutton.
“It’s okay,” she says, her voice soothing, though a little shaky.
“I think you’re having a panic attack, but I’m here and you’re going to be alright.
” She’s a beacon in the darkness that’s crowding in on me, like a lighthouse on the shore in a storm.
She covers my hands with hers and squeezes. “Just breathe.”
But that’s the problem. As much as my lungs are screaming for oxygen, my throat won’t open.
“You can do this, low and slow,” Callie’s voice is calm, steady. She picks up one of my hands and places it on her chest, right above her heart. She takes my other hand and puts it on my own chest. “We’ll do it together, okay?”
She inhales deeply, and beneath my palm, her chest rises. I’m not sure if it’s instinct or muscle memory or what, but the next time she does it, air rushes in through my nose.
“That’s it. Just breathe with me. In,” Callie inhales deeply, “And out.” She blows the breath slowly from her lips, and I replicate the movement, even as my body fights against it.
“Again. Just like that.” She leans in, pressing her forehead against mine. “Just breathe.”
Her touch grounds me, and the crushing weight lifts a little, just enough so I can draw in a decent, full breath. Callie keeps my hands in place, her thumb rubbing soothing circles against my skin. “I’m here,” she whispers tenderly. “It’s okay. Just keep breathing.”
Slowly, I come back to myself, and the world steadies. I drop my face to her shoulder, burying it in the soft skin of her neck. “I’m sorry,” I rasp, my voice a little hoarse.
“Hey.” She lifts my head, cupping my face between her palms so she’s peering into my eyes. “You have nothing to be sorry for, okay?”
I nod, only because I don’t know what else to say.
“Have you ever had one before?”
“Yeah, but not for a while,” I admit. “They were pretty bad for the first year or two after everything happened, but not so much lately. It’s just . . . ”
I hate the words I have to say next. I want to reject them, to fling them as far away from us as I can, but Callie still doesn’t know the whole story. If she knew the truth, knew what I’ve done, she wouldn’t be so accepting of me.
“I can’t keep you, Callie, and knowing I’m going to have to let you walk out this room absolutely guts me.”
“I’m not leaving, Jensen.”
“But you should.” I swallow. “What happened between us was the most incredible thing that’s ever happened to me, but as much as I want this, you, I already know how this story ends. You should walk away now.”
Callie searches my face. “I know there’s things we need to discuss but—”
“Please, Callie. There’s so much you don’t know, and if you did . . . ” I scrub a hand down my face. “Trust me, you don’t want to be with me. I don’t deserve you.”
“You keep saying that, but you don’t really believe that do you? Everyone deserves to be happy.”
It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. But it doesn’t apply. Not to me.
“I don’t.” The words come out a whisper.
Callie’s eyes widen. “Jensen, you can’t really—”
“Like I said, you just have to trust me on this,” I interrupt her, feeling some of the tightness return to my chest. I rub at the spot, trying to alleviate the ache.
“I do trust you, but you can’t just beg me to leave. Talk to me. Help me understand.”
Her gentle pleading makes the ache in my chest worse, and I drop my hand and swallow hard. There’s no easy way to say it, no preamble I can give to explain it. So, I rush the words out, ignoring the way they sink their teeth into my skin, like vipers.
“It’s true that Anna left me because I can’t have kids. That would be bad enough if it were the whole story, but it’s not.”
Don’t, Kase growls in my ear. Don’t say it.
The sound of his voice in my ear has me gasping, but I have to do this. I have to tell her the truth.
“I killed him, Callie,” I whisper, bearing my soul. “I killed Kasey.”
She stares at me for a moment, her wide eyes searching mine. “It was a helicopter crash that killed Kasey.”
“Yeah,” I confirm bitterly. “But he wasn’t supposed to be on that helo. If I hadn’t . . . If I just . . . ” The tightness in my chest makes it near impossible to go on. “It’s my fault he’s dead.”
I half expect her to jump up and try to get away from me or at least glare at me in revulsion or horror, but she doesn’t flinch or freak out or look at me with anything other than gentleness.
“I don’t understand,” she admits quietly. “But I’d like to.” She runs a hand down my arm and gives a little squeeze. “If you want me to.”
She’s not forcing me to talk about it, not demanding answers as others might. She’s giving me the choice, and I honestly think she’d be okay with it if I couldn’t tell her what happened. She’d understand, and that is even more proof that I don’t deserve her, and all the more reason to tell her.
“If I’m going to tell you, I have to start at the beginning.” I reach for Callie’s hand and entwine my fingers with hers. I need something to hold on to, something that will anchor me.
She squeezes my hand tightly and nods.