Chapter 1 #2
We stare at each other, and for a moment, all the years fall away. We’re just Callum and Lily again, seventeen and fifteen, discovering that love could feel scary and safe at the same time.
“The new stuff is different.” I give us both an escape from the tension. “More hopeful, maybe. Less angry and less…groveling. Guns says it’s because I’m finally processing my trauma instead of drowning in it.”
“That’s good,” she whispers. “You deserve to be hopeful.”
“So do you.” I lean forward slightly, studying the exhaustion in her face, the careful way she holds herself as if she’s afraid of taking up too much space. “Lily, what happened tonight? What made you come here?”
She takes a few beats. Then she gazes up at me, and the agony she’s been hiding behind her gentle presence is undeniable.
“I... I wanted to remember what it feels like to have someone want to spend time with me just because.” Her voice breaks slightly. “And you’ve always been one of the few people who’s made me feel like I’m enough, exactly as I am.”
Yet the obvious questions hang between us. Why did she come here tonight, specifically? What happened today to put that broken look in her eyes? Who hurt her, and how badly do I need to destroy them?
I nod as if I understand. “You’ve always been enough, more than enough to me.”
“I know. Thank you.”
“Right back at ya, love.” I didn’t say it to make her uncomfortable, and I don’t think I did because her face lights up in acknowledgement of something we used to say to one another, even when we were fighting.
We settle in, and the conversation flows like it used to when we were kids, before fame, trauma, and Leon Baker turned our love story into a battlefield.
But there’s tension underneath it all from the weight of years of secrets and the automatic way she stiffens when I move too fast or get too close.
“You’ve changed.” She expands from a ball to something more relaxed, opening the space between us. “You seem...steadier. More centered.”
“I had to be.” I scooch closer to her, not quite touching but enough to feel her warmth. “After everything that happened, after I lost you... I realized I couldn’t keep living like I was trying to die.”
She cringes, but quickly recovers. “Callum—”
“I’m not saying that to make you feel guilty. I’m saying it because I want you to know that whatever brought you here tonight, whatever’s causing you anguish, I’m not that same broken kid who couldn’t handle it. If you need me, I’m all yours.”
She’s quiet for so long, I think she might not respond. Then she shifts just a few inches, but enough that I can smell her perfume and see the exhaustion etched in the lines around her eyes.
“I missed this,” she whispers. “Just talking and being normal.”
“We were never normal, Lily. But we were real. That has to count for something.”
She shuts her eyes, and when she opens them again, they’re glossy with unshed tears. “I keep thinking about that night…when you turned twenty, and I went to surprise you at the hotel—”
“Stop.”
She flinches.
I force myself to breathe and gentle my voice. “That night... I’m sorry, Lily. I’m so fucking sorry about what you saw.”
She searches my face, trying to read the pain I’m keeping locked away.
“Callum, why?”
“I can’t explain what happened that night, but I need you to know that what you walked in on, it wasn’t what I wanted. It was never what I wanted.” My stomach turns. “You deserved so much better than that, than me.”
The stillness stretches between us, heavy with unspoken truths I’ll never be able to voice. The shame of that night sits in my heart like a stone. Even now, years later, I can’t bring myself to tell her what Leon did to me, what he made me a part of.
“I should’ve fought harder.” My insides clench down. “I should’ve found another way, but I was immature and stupid. I let Leon manipulate everything, including me.”
Her hand reaches for mine, tentative. “We were both so young. Too young for all we went through.”
She’s crying now, silent tears that make my chest feel like it’s caving in.
“Callum, I’m so sorry about everything.”
“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for.” I take her palm in mine, giving her time to pull away.
She doesn’t.
“We were kids, Lily. We were teenagers, and things got out of control. Evil people used us. That’s the truth, and we can choose to relive it every day or learn from it and make it better tomorrow.”
Her fingers intertwine with mine. The simple contact sends electricity racing through my bloodstream.
“I wasted so much time hating you for that night.” She squeezes my hand. “I know drugs played a huge part, and Zara was set on destroying me. It all seems so—”
“Unreal. But you need to know I wasted so much time hating myself for letting them twist the story.” I lift our joined hands and press a kiss to her knuckles. “But we’re here now.”
We sit in silence for a minute, processing our past and how we ended up here.
“Can I…” She glances down, then back up at me. “Would it be okay if I stayed tonight? Just to sleep. Nothing more. I just don’t want to be alone.”
The request nearly undoes me. “Sure. Whatever you need.”
An hour later, we’re lying in my bed. She’s in one of my T-shirts and her leggings, and I’m in sweatpants.
The space between us is carefully maintained, even as every cell in my body screams to pull her into my arms. She’s curled on her side facing me, and I’m on my back, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars I stuck to my ceiling months ago.
“Why do you have those ridiculous fake stars?” There’s laughter in her voice for the first time tonight.
“They’re not ridiculous. They’re symbols of the people I’ve lost. My pops, Uncle John, our…” I swallow hard and turn my head her way. “Our baby. They’re up there watching out for me, making sure I don’t fuck up again.”
Fresh tears pool in her eyes. “I’m sorry I lost him. I know you wanted—”
“Hey.” I roll onto my side to face her fully. We’re inches apart on the same pillow. “What happened to our child wasn’t your fault. It was Uncle John’s fault. It was Leon’s fault for giving him those drugs. It was the fault of every adult who failed to protect us.”
“But–”
“Shhh.” I reach out to brush a tear from her cheek. “But it was never, ever your fault.”
“I told you I wanted an abortion when I first found out.” The words come out broken and shameful. “What kind of person does that make me?”
“You were a fifteen-year-old girl who was scared out of her mind.” I trace my thumb over the curve of her cheekbone. “You were a baby yourself, Lily. You were allowed to be terrified.”
She closes the distance between us, pressing her face into my chest while her body shakes with silent sobs. I wrap my arms around her carefully, like she’s made of glass and might shatter if I hold her too tight.
“I hope someday you can forgive me,” she whispers.
“Lily, there was never anything to forgive.”
We lie there in the dark, tracing the fake stars with our fingers, and sharing memories of who we used to be before the world taught us that love could be a weapon.
She tells me about the beautiful late nights in Paris and fashion shows that felt like battlefields. I tell her about writing songs that bled her name and performing for crowds that felt empty without her.
Sometime near dawn, she falls asleep in my arms, her breathing finally steady and peaceful. I press a kiss to the top of her head and make a silent promise to the stars above us, to my pops, my uncle, the child we lost, and whatever gods might be listening.
If she’ll let me, I’ll take care of her for the rest of my life. I’ll be the man she needs me to be, not just the boy who nearly destroyed her.
I’ll protect her from the ghost in her eyes and the pain she won’t name. And I’ll wait as long as it takes for her to trust me with the pieces of herself she’s still learning how to love.
Holding her again is heaven. But tonight, having her safe in my arms while I sleep without nightmares feels like hope.
And that right there might be the most dangerous thing of all.