Chapter 11 #2
“Callum…” I whisper, his name catching in my throat.
“I know I fucked up tonight, and that frightens you. But I also know that what we had was the real thing. What we could have again would be just as powerful, if not more so. And I’m willing to spend the rest of my life proving to you I can be the man you deserve.”
My mind spins in a heavy fog. “I’m confused and tired.”
“Don’t give up on us.” His thumb brushes away a tear that’s fallen from my eyes. “Please.”
The words gut me because part of me wants to fall into his arms and pretend that love is enough to fix the torn fibers between us. But the other part of me, the part that’s been ripped apart by his promises, knows that wanting to change isn’t the same as actually changing.
“I have a lot to think about.”
“Then I’ll give you some space.”
“Goodnight, Callum.” I slip inside and lock the door behind me, leaning against it as his footsteps retreat down the walkway.
The ringing of that teenage memory lingers. He was the boy who held me as if I were his salvation and loved me with such pure intensity that it rewrote the chemistry of my heart.
And no matter how much he loves me now, I don’t know if love alone can bridge the distance between who we were and who we’ve become.
When his car engine fades into the distance, I finally let myself break. The sobs come in waves, each one tearing through me like a hurricane.
I slide down the door until I’m sitting on the cold floor of my entryway. My dress is bunched around me, and my makeup runs in rivers down my cheeks.
Today has been too much. Jax’s unexpected return, seeing the hurt in his eyes when he thought I’d chosen Callum. Callum’s desperation and his promises that feel sincere.
I might not understand his need to protect me, but he’s always been fierce that way. He’s fighting for me, and Jax is pushing me away.
Then there’s the media attention, Zara’s threats, and the secrets everyone seems to be carrying.
If I choose Jax, he might not ever forgive me for the past two and a half weeks. That’s if he’d even consider being with me again. If I chose Callum, he could go back to how he behaved before.
I kick off my heels, massaging the arch of my foot where the strap has been digging in all night. The simple pain is grounding when everything else feels like I’m drowning. I could really use a scene to help me escape this overwhelming confusion, but I know that’s wrong.
My phone sits beside me where I dropped it, silent and accusatory. I know there are probably missed calls from my publicist, text messages from my staff, and notifications from a world that never stops gossiping. But I don’t want to see any of it.
Instead, I replay the day’s events like a movie I can’t turn off.
Jaxon’s face when he saw me with Callum, the way his jaw clenched when Callum thanked him for making our reunion possible.
The letter he claims he sent, which I never received.
And the cold dismissal in his voice when he told me goodbye.
Bile climbs up my throat. I’m physically sickened by the memory. I could vomit, and my head is about to explode.
Then, how Callum’s hands were shaking as he reached for Sebastian, the wild look in Callum’s eyes transporting me back five years. What if he loses control again and starts acting like he used to? What if he allows someone to manipulate him again?
Two men. Two different kinds of love and two different kinds of confusion.
Jaxon, who took too long to tell me he loves me, now won’t let me in. Callum, who says he’s always loved me and is begging me to give him another chance.
Once I finally make my way upstairs, the moonlight pours through my bedroom windows, casting everything in silver and shadows. I should try to sleep. No, I should take a bath, drink some wine, and do something to quiet the torment in my head.
Instead, I reach for my phone. My hands tremble as I scroll through my contacts, finding his name. I stare at it for a long time, thumb hovering over the call button.
Jax made it clear today that we’re over. He dismissed me like a business meeting that ran too long. He wished me happiness with Callum as if I were a casual acquaintance rather than the woman who shared his bed, secrets, and his heart.
But I can’t stop thinking about the letter. Two pages of explanation I never saw. Two pages of love, fear, and hope that would’ve changed everything.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I press call.
The line rings once...twice…
My heart hammers against my ribs as I wait, torn between hoping he’ll answer and praying he won’t.
What would I even say? That I’m sorry I never got his letter? Or that seeing him today reminded me of everything we had and everything I lost?
Three rings...four…
His voicemail picks up, his familiar deep voice that used to breathe against my skin, now reduced to a crisp, professional greeting. After the beep, I sit in silence for a moment, listening to my own ragged breathing.
“Jax, I’m not okay. We need to talk.” I wait for another second, then I hang up.
I change into something soft and curl into a ball, more vulnerable than I have been in years. Because that’s the truth, isn’t it?
I’m not okay and haven’t been since the day he left for Malaysia. I haven’t been okay since I opened that envelope and found legal documents instead of love letters.
And even worse is knowing if he responds, everything changes once again.