Chapter 5
Chapter Five
CALLUM/CASH
A Week Before Now
The Edge Of What I Won’t Push
Love feels less like a choice when every secret tastes like a loaded weapon between us.
Livianna asks me what makes me say this home feels more like her, and for a moment, I just stare at her.
The orange and red sunset paints her face in a soft hue. She looks carved out of that light, like she belongs to it, and I have to force myself to breathe.
“Because the Malibu place…” My voice catches, and I drag my hand through my hair. “It felt like someone else’s.”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t interrupt.
“This house?” I gesture around us, at the edges of glass and steel. “This is you. No shadows that don’t belong. No other person’s choices. Just you and whoever you decide to let in. I particularly like that it has six bedrooms.”
Her shoulders tense, and I know I’m walking close to the line. But I can’t stop.
“The Malibu house felt...occupied. Like someone else’s fingerprints are all over it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know how to explain it.” I take a step closer to her. “When I was there with you, it felt like I was trespassing. Like at any second, someone would show up and take me out.”
She wraps her arms around her waist as her hair floats in the evening breeze. “That’s a strange feeling to have since you were there five minutes tops.”
“Maybe.” My eyes find hers, searching. “Or maybe it’s because you were different there. Stiff. Like you were performing instead of just being.”
“I wasn’t performing.” She tucks her hair behind her ear.
“Weren’t you?” I get close enough that I can smell her spicy, warm perfume. “When we left, you glanced up at the security camera like you were checking to see if someone was watching. You turned your back to me when I dropped you off as soon as you spotted the blinking red light.”
“Callum—”
“You acted as if you expected someone to see us.”
“I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”
“I’m saying I think that house belongs to someone else. Someone who matters to you.” My gaze never leaves her face. “Someone you’re protecting by not telling me the truth.”
“I told you it’s mine.” She strides past me and holds onto the railing. “Why are you bringing that up?”
“Because I’m falling in love with you all over again, and I need to know if I’m fighting for something real, or if I’m just the guy on the side while you wait for him to come back.” The words tumble out of me like a tsunami, washing away every defense I have left.
My therapist will be proud, but that’s irrelevant. I need to know what I’m up against.
Livianna turns to me. “That’s not…”
“It’s not what?” I step before her and cup her face in my hands. “It’s not true? Or it’s not fair?”
She closes her eyes, leaning into my touch. “Both.”
“Then tell me the truth, Lily. All of it. Let me decide if I can handle it.”
When she opens her eyes, my face is so close I can count her eyelashes. With the sunset casting everything in beauty and my thumb stroking across her cheekbone, she seems to consider it.
“I can’t,” she whispers. “Not yet.”
My insides go into a freefall. She’s so close to confiding in me about him, and the pain in her expression is enough to suggest he means a lot more to her than anyone knows. But I don’t pull away.
“Okay.” My voice is rough with restraint. “But when you’re ready to stop running from whatever this is that’s happening between us, I’ll be here.”
I drop my hand and step back, needing the distance before I do something like beg her to forget him and take a chance with me. “I should go get that ice cream before the store closes.”
“Callum, wait.”
But I’m already marching toward the door, muscles tight with fear of losing her all over again.
My boots scuff the pavement as I leave. I get to the car, cut in half. One part of me wants to make her tell me everything, and the other part knows dragging secrets into the light will only fray whatever fragile thread we’re sewing back together.
The street is a ribbon of gold. I wanna get the ice cream and come back to make some dumb, safe move that keeps the night from cracking completely.
I make that my intention and drive away with a heavy weight on my soul, realizing I might not get her back. Not if this other guy fights for her when he returns from his so-called business. And that’s enough for me to put my all into making things right with her.
The shop is a tiny place with a bell that rings when you open the door, the kind of joint that still remembers people’s names. I order a pint because I have to keep ritual where ritual matters, and that’s what we used to do when we were dating as teenagers.
Fucking hell, that was a long time ago.
The woman behind the counter tosses in a napkin and winks like she knows this is more than dessert. People see things if they pay attention.
Container in my hand, I stroll back to the car, drive to Livianna’s neighborhood, return to her gate, and sit. I consider the sugar, butter, and all the things I’m not allowed to have yet. I play back the last few moments we shared.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
My heart flattens as if someone’s pacing on it. I rehearse every sentence I didn’t say on the balcony. I practice gentleness, patience, and not losing myself again if she tells me something that breaks me.
My phone vibrates. Her name on the screen makes the world shrink to a single, brittle moment.
I don’t answer. Instead, I thumb a text that won’t demand, won’t frighten, and says more by being small.
Me: I got the cookie dough treat you requested. Wanna bring it in like a knight with less armor. No pressure. I’ll wait in the car to hear if you want me to come inside. If not, I’ll go. Whatever you need.
I press send. Everything inside me clamps down. My vulnerability is embarrassing and true.
I’m trying to be better, but there’s a drive in me that causes me to push her boundaries every damn time.
Why the fuck did I get on her about the Malibu house?
It shouldn’t fucking matter…but it does. The minutes stretch. I grip the phone in my palm and breathe. And then finally…
Lily: You promised me ice cream, so…
The knot in my chest loosens. I wait for her to buzz me in and rush out of my car so fast my knee knocks the dashboard.
She meets me in the entryway with the door already open, hair loose, and cheeks hollowed with the leftover confrontation.
For a second, all the air between us is strained and guarded. I hand her the pint like it’s a small peace offering, but the gesture is ridiculous and honest.
She takes it from me and motions for me to enter. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Any time you need something, I’ll be here.”
We walk in silence. The kitchen island becomes our neutral ground, two spoons and a pint of cookie dough ice cream between us like a peace treaty we’re both pretending to honor.
The tension from the balcony still hums in the air, but we’re dancing around it with careful smiles and safer conversation.
“Callum, this is exactly what I need.”
“Good, because I wanna do the small things. The ones that mean nothing and everything.”
She gives me a gentle smile and pauses.
“You know what I just realized?” She licks her spoon clean, and I have to focus on her words instead of the way her tongue moves. “I never asked how you knew about my Pilates obsession.”
“You said you were meditating and doing Pilates as your therapy. Guns mentioned you’re addicted to it.” I dig into the carton, stealing the biggest chunk of cookie dough. “Said you’ve been going religiously since you moved back.”
“Easy now.” She laughs, reaching across to claim the spoon from my hand. “That’s for me.”
Her fingers brush against mine as she takes it.
The contact sends electricity straight through my veins. “Everything in this container belongs to me, vixen. I bought it.”
“Sharing is caring, Callum.” She takes a deliberately slow bite, eyes locked on mine. She swallows. “Besides, I thought you said I could steal the bigger slice.”
“That was pie. This is ice cream. Different rules apply.”
“What rules?” She tilts her head, hair falling over one shoulder. It makes me want to reach out and touch it. “Enlighten me.”
I lean closer. “Ice cream rules are simple. Whoever bought it gets priority access to the good parts.”
“The good parts?” Her voice drops to a rasp.
“The chunks. The swirls. All the pieces that make it worth the wait.” My gaze drops to her lips. “The parts that matter most.”
“And what if someone wants to share the good parts?”
“Then they have to ask nicely.” I take the utensil back, deliberately letting my touch linger against hers. “Really nice.”
“Please?” The word comes out all breathy. “Can I have some of the good parts, Callum?”
Hearing my name in that voice, with that question hanging between us, makes my pulse spike.
“Since you asked so sweetly…” I scoop up the treat loaded with cookie dough and hold it out to her.
Instead of taking it, she leans forward and lets me feed it to her. Her lips close around the spoon in a way that makes my jeans feel uncomfortably tight.
“Better?” My word comes out rough.
She nods, but there’s something in her eyes that suggests we’re not talking about ice cream. “Much better. Your turn.”
She takes the utensil and returns the favor, her free hand coming up to steady my jaw as she feeds me. The innocent touch zaps me with desire.
When she uses her thumb to wipe away a drop from the corner of my mouth, I nearly lose my mind.
“Messy eater.” She doesn’t move her hand away.
“Only when I’m distracted.” I turn my face slightly, pressing a soft kiss to her palm before I can stop myself.
Her fingers tremble against my skin, but she doesn’t pull away. “What’s distracting you?”
“You. Everything about you. The way you laugh. The way you bite your lip when you’re thinking. The way you say my name like it means something.”
“It does mean something.” Her thumb traces across my chin. “You mean something.”