Chapter 11 Callum
Callum
Ruminate (v) to contemplate deeply about something
“So, Miss Maeve Collins,” I say, resting my elbow on the table and resting my face against my fist, "what did you go on to study after we graduated high school?”
She gives me a strange look, her eyes narrowing, head tilting slightly.
“Well,” she replies, drawing the word out, “I went to WSU, and got a bachelor's in interior design with a minor in art history.
I was the president of the art club, on the school's skeet shooting team, and became the first female to win nationals four years in a row.” She ticks off each accomplishment on her fingers, a small smile on her face.
Of course, I already know all of this information.
“I own my own interior design company,” she continues, her smile spreading, “and I take only a handful of clients a year. The projects tend to be larger than your average living room makeover, but I still get emails requesting I come and flip someone's house.”
I smile back at her, enjoying the evident pride she feels in her work.
“Now,” she says, leaning back in her chair, “a question for a question.”
“Fair enough. Whatcha got, sharpshooter?” I ask as I raise my palms and crook my fingers in a “bring it on” gesture.
She smirks and crosses her arms, looking at me imperiously. There’s something about her in this moment that absolutely slays me. I’d have answered any question, given her anything she asked for.
“Why are there roughly ten to twelve of our fathers’ men scattered between the street and the other side of the pond?”
Well, fuck. Didn’t see that one coming.
She fixes me with a steady gaze, her green eyes glowing with an intense awareness I’d never really noticed in them before. I clear my throat and straighten my posture as I start to fiddle aimlessly with the silverware on the table.
“And don’t you dare lie to me, Callum Egan. It doesn’t take this many men to go to dinner at a place you regularly attend. What is going on?”
I look up at her again. I don’t know what to do. Should I tell her? Or should I lie, and let her be blissfully naive?
Fuck it. She deserves the truth.
I take a deep breath, running my hand across my face.
“Eve, I don’t want to start things off with a lie.
There have been sightings of the Costas’ men outside of both of our warehouses as well as outside your parents' estate. We have to assume they’re back in town for a while, so we’re being vigilant, but we don’t know what their plans are yet. ”
“And why am I just now being told about this?” She grits out, her eyes flashing angrily.
“Up until this afternoon, there were only single-man sightings, and they were only around our warehouses, so there was no need to tell you. They were spotted outside of your father’s last night, which… changes things. I was hoping to wait till tomorrow to talk to you about it—”
Before I can finish, she stands up with her hands fisted at her sides.
“These are things I need to know,” she says lowly, menacingly. “Do you know what they did to me, Callum?” her voice breaking mid-question.
“Yes,” I whisper as I push my away from the table and lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “It was the worst 45 hours of my life.”
I glance up at her and see confusion wash over her face.
“You'd better start talking, or I will walk right out this door, Callum!” She points at the door our waiter walked through not long ago.
“Sit down, Maeve.”
“No, I will not—” she begins to protest, but I cut her off this time.
“Sit. Down. Maeve.” I command.
Stunned, she slowly sits back down, holding her hands together and fidgeting with her rings.
“Maeve, I know exactly what they did to you because I was the one who found you.”
At this, she looks up at me abruptly, confusion written all over her face.
”I was the one who killed every bastard in that shabby-arse house they kept you in.
You were knocked out with whatever they had injected you with.
You had no idea that I was the one who carried you out of there.
You were so bruised, so bloody,” I say, the memory overtaking me. I feel a shudder creeping up my spine.
“I told your father not to tell you. I knew you were still angry with me. I didn’t want you to feel obligated to… to… And we hadn’t spoken in so long… I just…” I trail off, searching for the words. She’s looking at me intently, lips parted.
“That night,” I say, my voice rough, “that night at the party did not happen like you think it did."
“Don’t,” she commands, a note of anger in her voice.
“No, Maeve,” I say, leaning forward instinctively. "I’ve let you have the last nine years believing a fucking lie because I knew the truth would hurt you far more.”
“Callum,” she says, her chest rising and falling rapidly, “start making sense before I get up and leave you sitting here alone. I'm not playing games. Start talking.”
I take a deep sigh, rubbing a hand across my face and through my hair. I can’t sit any longer. I stand up and walk toward the window, and I hear her follow behind me. I turn to find her inches from my face.
Time to lay it all on the line.
“I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have,” I say quietly, dreading this. “The night of the party, I was drugged. Ronan found me passed out at the bottom of the stairs because whatever she gave me finally kicked in as I was coming down the stairs after you.”
Maeve’s eyes are wide, her breathing shallow. “She? You know who did it?”
“Yes,” I say, then hesitate.
“Who. Was. It.” She demands, but I’m frozen in place, looking into her eyes. I don’t want to hurt her, and this is about to flip her world upside down.
“Callum,” she says, her voice low and breathy, "I’ve spent the last nine years without you because the truth would hurt more. I don’t think you understand what losing you did to me. I can’t imagine anything hurting me more than that.”
Damn it.
“Maeve, it was Nessa.”
She leans away from me, like someone had pulled her shoulders, and her eyes narrow. I stand still, holding eye contact.
“We were both betrayed that night, Maeve,” I say gently, "and even more people were hurt in the process.”
Tears start to accumulate in her eyes, and one escapes, rolling down her cheek as she whispers with a broken voice, “Wh… I don’t understand. She… she’s family. My friend.”
Reaching up, I swipe the tear away with the pad of my thumb, then cup her cheek in my hand.
To my surprise, she closes her eyes and leans into it.
I step closer and lean down to rest my forehead against hers.
For a moment, I’m scared, genuinely scared.
She’d been pushing me away for so long, and I don’t want her to push me away again.
I'm relieved when she doesn’t. This feels like a dream, and I'm waiting for my alarm to blare in my ear.
I can feel my heart pounding in my ears.
She raises her hand to the side of my head, her thumb stroking my cheek. I take a shuddering breath. Real. This is real.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispers, so softly I barely hear her, “so much it hurts.”
I grab both sides of her face, making her look at me.
“I was always right here. I never left. I couldn’t stay away.” This is it, lay it all out, I tell myself. “I… I love you, Maeve. Always have. Always will. I’ll never be out of your sight again, do you understand?”
She searches my eyes again. I let her and don’t say anything. It’s time to start putting it all out there. One stone at a time. And I’m not sure exactly how, but I can tell that Maeve finds what she’s looking for.
This is not how tonight was supposed to go. Well, at least I’d been right about one thing. She hates me a little less than she did last night.
20 Years Old
She was propped against a tree in The Junction. It was her favorite place to be on campus, a large, grassy expanse scattered with old white oak trees, perfect shady spots for reading and lounging.
They also provided camouflage if you needed to stay out of sight.
I sat underneath a tree not too far from her, lounging beside a low-hanging limb that was only inches from caressing the ground.
These trees had seen it all, had seen the beginnings of everything that surrounded us.
They’d weathered the storms that were meant to rip them from the earth, and yet here they still stood, and there she sat, not understanding that she had weathered storms very few would have survived.
I’d sat here countless times, just watching, drawing.
She never knew I was here. There was one day I thought she’d spotted me as she was walking by, but luckily she hadn’t.
Orin knew I was here. He always knew. It allowed him to attend to a few things when they arose.
Ronan floated around doing more of his own thing, but never too far.
He and Orin both took their duties seriously, especially after what had happened to Maeve.
She was reading something new, and I couldn’t make out the title, but whatever it was made her look like she was about to cry. Her hand floated to her mouth, where her lips were parted in shock.
After another half hour or so, she began packing her things. I noticed a male student approaching her, a hopeful look on his face. When Maeve saw him, she tensed, gripping the strap of her bag so tight her knuckles turned white.
I began walking toward them, swinging wide so I wouldn’t draw attention to myself.
I needed to get closer, needed to know what they were talking about.
I stood on the other side of the tree, my back pressing against the trunk, trying to look as casual as possible.
I caught the second half of their exchange.
“I already told you no before, and I’ll say it again so it’s fresh. N.O. NO. Got it?”
I grinned.
He stepped toward her, and I almost stepped in until I heard the venom in her tone.
“If I have to take a bullet and shove it in your chest with my bare hands to make you understand, I will. Now get the fuck away from me before I do just that.”
He made a sound similar to a whimper as he recoiled in fear.
Good girl.
Once he was out of sight, I heard her exhale loudly. I peered carefully around the trunk of the tree and saw her hands shaking as she looked around anxiously.
I pulled my phone from my back pocket and messaged Orin.
You need to come get Maeve at The Junction. Now.
I slid the phone back into my pocket and chanced one more glance at her. Visibly upset. Shaking slightly. Glued to the spot. She needed to get out of there before she broke in front of all these people.
Ever since that night, she was… different.
Something inside her had shifted. She was no longer the prey, but a predator.
People often forgot that every predator had a weakness.
Hers? Once the switch was flipped, things got messy.
Sometimes her mind couldn't tell the difference between a threat and general fear.
Soon, I see Orin striding across The Junction toward Maeve.
I took a deep breath and sat back down, waiting until he had taken her away before I left, too.
I peered around the trunk one more time and caught a glimpse of them just before they rounded a nearby building.
Maeve’s arms were wrapped around her middle, and she looked at the ground as she walked.
I wanted to be the one to get her out of there.
I wanted to be the one to take her home, care for her, and comfort her.
But I couldn’t for so many reasons. I rubbed a hand over my jaw, through my hair.
It would be three more days before I could see her again, but it could only ever be from a distance now.
How could that ever be enough?