Chapter 13 Callum #2
Orin was constantly watching her, racked by guilt, just like me.
When he wasn’t, he was checking up on Thadg.
Those two had always had a deep bond. They’d both lost their parents in the same explosion, leaving them both orphans at a young age.
That’s why the aftermath of all this had left Orin so broken.
Why he knew he had to let me see Maeve. Because when you live this kind of life, you never know when you’ll see someone for the last time.
He sighed. “I’ll only be gone for twenty minutes tops, okay?”
I nodded. Orin opened the door, checking to see whether Maeve was still asleep.
He turned back to me and nodded, then walked down the hall, his hands in his pockets.
I stepped into the room, trying to calm my racing heart as I crawled beside her in the bed, moving slowly and quietly, not wanting to wake her.
Her hair wasn’t shiny like it usually was, and her skin was so pale, so bruised.
I slowly moved behind her and gently wrapped my arm around her.
I don’t know if I hallucinated it, but it felt like, in that moment, she relaxed, some of the tension flowed out of her body.
She let out a deep breath and turned toward me, causing me to freeze in place.
That was until she curled into me, her face against my chest.
I stroked her hair gently as I listened to every soft breath that she took.
I never knew how badly I’d need to hear someone breathe, how much it would feel like I couldn’t breathe.
As we lay there, she’d moan softly and mumble a few words here and there, but when she said my name on a tiny breath, I felt a pang in my heart.
“Cal? Cal? Where are you?”
Barely a whisper. I placed my lips on her head in the hardest, yet most gentle kiss I could muster, and did everything I could to not let the sob break through.
I couldn’t wake her. I needed every second I could get.
As if he could feel it, Orin walked through the door and nodded, letting me know it was time to go.
Reluctantly, I rose from my position and allowed Orin to take my place in the bed.
His wounds were more than the cuts and bruises that marred his body.
They ran deeper. He needed rest, so the only way to ensure he got any was to have him here with her.
We gave each other a nod before I walked to the door.
I paused with my hand on the door and looked back to see Maeve's eyebrows had drawn together like she knew I had left, and that’s what broke the dam.
I closed the door behind me, leaning against it for support, only to slide to the floor.
And I broke.
“What do you say we go grab some breakfast?” I propose attempting to lighten the mood.
“I don’t have anything other than the dress to wear. I wasn’t exactly prepared to stay the night,” she says sheepishly.
“Well,” I say, drawing the word out for effect. “I was told to take care of the details.” I wink at her, then stand up, watching as her eyes roam down my torso, down, down. A blush creeps across her cheeks as her eyes reach the morning wood greeting her.
As I walk the short distance to the patio door, I see the sun rising in the east, right over the house. I slide the doors open and grab the go-bag I’d prepared yesterday in a moment of insane optimism. I never actually thought we’d be here, like this, but… I do like to be prepared for anything.
After we dress, we walk out of the house, locking the door behind us and head for the car.
The air is cooler this morning, and Maeve has her arms wrapped around herself.
I open her door. She gives me a small smile before she slides in, and I lean down to kiss her before closing the door.
I toss the go-bag with last night’s clothes in the trunk before sliding into the driver’s seat.
I turn the key and feel the Mustang rumble to life.
We head to the diner down the road, a place that still seems to be stuck in the sixties. Neon signs and chrome trim line the outside, and on the inside, shiny red booths, black-and-white checkered floors, and chrome accents make the place feel like a time capsule.
We walk inside, and I look down the long counter, with red swivel stools and stooped old men drinking their morning coffee. The walls are covered in vintage posters, old-school Cola signs, and photos of Elvis and Marilyn. I look over at Maeve, who is looking around with wide eyes.
“This place still looks the same,” she says.
I smile and wrap an arm around her waist. A waitress wearing a t-shirt and dark jeans greets us, grabbing menus before escorting us to a booth near the side exit.
She places down the menus and silverware, taking our drink orders before leaving us to decide on food.
She returns shortly after, and I watch Maeve as she spouts her order out, hearing none of it myself.
Her hair is pulled into a messy bun, and the long sleeve she’s wearing is a V-neck that gives me a perfect view of her braless chest.
Stunning.
“And you, sir?” The waitress asks, bringing me back.
“I’ll have the same, thank you.” The waitress nods, then strolls off. Maeve is giving me an amused look. “What?”
“Since when do you eat carbs?”
“I eat whatever I feel like. I can’t help that my diet has been quite bland for a while.” A flash of realization reflects in her eyes before she looks down into her drink. I change the subject quickly. “So, I have to fly to Ireland on Monday. Would you like to join me?”
She looks up at me from her chocolate milk, straw still in her mouth, and eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“You want me to go with you to Ireland?” she says, disbelief in her voice.
“Well,” I say, cupping my chin in my hand and pretending to consider her question carefully, “we are roommates now. Friends, even. Friends take trips together, right?”
“Hmmmmm,” she intones, looking around with her thumb on her chin, clearly mocking me. “I guess friends take trips together. I do have a client scheduled for Monday afternoon, but I suppose I could reschedule them for next month.”
I grin at her and lean back into the booth, draping an arm across the top of the backrest. “What do you say we head into the city and order furniture for the house? We could have it all delivered while we’re away.”
She grins at me, her face lighting up.
“Uh, this is what I live for, Callum Egan, so yes. Although I don’t think you know what you’ve just signed yourself up for,” she says, taking another sip of her chocolate milk.
I feel the side of my mouth lifting in a half-smile as I watch her.
Last night’s mascara still lingers on her lashes, and the faint smudge of eyeshadow made the green in her eyes look bright.
My focus is broken by the sound of Maeve’s phone ringing. And, it’s a ringtone I know all too well.
Nessa.
Maeve just stares at the screen for a moment, then hits ignore and tucks it into her pocket as the waitress returns with our food. Steaming plates of bacon and eggs, and…
“Here are those pecan pie slices!” the waitress says, placing the plates before us.
“Enjoy!” she says brightly as she hurries over to the next booth.
“Don’t judge me,” Maeve says, grabbing her fork and digging into the pie. “I like to have a treat every now and then.”
I smile and pick up my own fork. “No judgment here, mo agra. Never.” I save my pie for last, but true to her word, Maeve tackles hers first, just in case she dies before dessert, as she used to say.
“I love you, too,” she says through a mouthful of pie. It sounded so casual, as though the past nine years had never happened. I look up at her, watching her as she gazes out of the window again, a happy smile on her face.
Shit.
My heart is done for. And I’m completely okay with it.