7. Callie Rae #2
“Yeah?” he challenges, leaning forward while hitching a thumb over his shoulder.
“You’re gonna jump in my pickup truck and travel back to Willowhart, Callie?
That’s what you’re gonna do after ten years away from it?
The place you despise more than anything on this planet?
I guess I must’ve just missed you when I returned all those times for Mom, huh? ”
I ingest a shaky breath, the hollow glint in his eyes begging me to listen instead of match his grudge. It would be so easy for me to unleash all my pent-up anger on him. I’m just as infuriated with him as he is with me, but this reunion is too goddamn sacred.
My brows slowly climb, and I lean in as I tell him, “I would go for you, and you know that.”
“Do I know you?” he rebuttals, his face unmoved.
The question raises my guard when his eyes drag to my left hand. Only to meet mine after.
A silent challenge.
Oh, I get it.
My lips fold, reserved fury kicking me from my seat.
“What are you doing?” Brant lightly scoffs.
He’s rising from his chair in my periphery, but I’m shrugging my denim jacket on anyway. “Quite frankly, you’re acting like an asshole,” I answer, slinging my crossbody strap on.
I turn around, muffled chatter lining my path to the exit. But Brant’s voice instantly brushes my back. “Callie.”
I quickly pop my head over my shoulder just as he’s draping his coat on. Then I swing the glass door open, and my heels are hot along the small patio.
I travel to my Range Rover, and Brant’s voice echoes louder this time. “Callie!”
“I’m done talkin’ to you, Brant.” My arm stretches out to the side when I continue hollering. “I tried to be civil with you, invited you to a decent brewery, but you still want to be an absolute jerk. I’m finished talkin’.”
As soon as I round the rear of my SUV, Brant slips in front of me. He plants a palm on the frame of the car, blocking my mission entirely. “I’m not.”
I exhaust a breath, throwing my arms at my sides as I shake my head.
“You didn’t want to talk to me about everything you missed while you were gone from my life.
You wanted to pry for information about my relationship.
” The handcuffs are off now, and my finger is stabbing up at him with intention.
“You were always so damn nosey, nudging your head up my ass any chance you got.” My brows crumple as I paste my hand to my forehead.
“I should’ve seen this coming. I’m an idiot! ”
His jaw ticks when he inches closer. “You know what? Maybe you should ask yourself why you’re getting bent the hell out of shape whenever your engagement is a topic of discussion.”
“I’m getting bent out of shape because of you,” I snap.
He pivots his head, chucking a laugh. “We haven’t even sat down for a full drink, and I’m already gettin’ on your last nerve?”
“I guess some things never change,” I grumble, walking around him.
“Callie.”
His large arm snakes around my chest. My eyelids fall in his secure hold, and I can’t even move if I wanted to.
He’s so much bigger. So much stronger than I recall, and it only reminds me of every second I’ve missed with him.
Every touch I could’ve felt from him if it weren’t for that godforsaken night in June.
This.
This is what I’ve been waiting for.
But he’s a year too late.
He’s too late, Callie.
“What happened to us?” I whisper harshly. A string of bated breaths pours from my mouth, and once the valve opens, there’s no closing it. “Why didn’t you try to find me? You just stumbled upon me. You said that you would f—”
“I know what I said.”
My lips part, a silent gasp evading me when I angle my chin toward him. His hazel eyes are narrowed as they skim my face. There’s a softness to them that contrasts greatly from his sturdy embrace.
“Goddammit, I moved to New York. Uprooted my entire life back in Rhode Island.” His strangled confession inflates my depleted lungs.
“If I didn’t bump into you now, I would’ve found you, Callie.
Maybe I didn’t want to come back into your life swinging.
” His prominent Adam’s apple rolls, his next words being carefully strung together before he speaks.
“Or maybe I was too fucking scared that my worst nightmare came true. You ever think of that?”
I shake my head, succumbing to honesty.
“Of course you didn’t,” he whispers, loosening his hold. “So, yeah, I guess some things never change.”
The tension in the air alleviates, and he buries his hands in his jeans pockets. His head lifts, his eyes no longer locked on me as his mouth lingers an inch away from my temple.
“You breathe fire whenever you feel like it, and all I want to do is burn.”
There’s pain etched in his hushed speech. Agony that reflects my own.
Still.
Still.
When he backs away, my gaze drags over his face. “You’re just as handsome as I remember,” I whisper.
He gulps thickly, barely shaking his head as he stares at me.
“I’ve always found you to be the most beautiful girl in the room.
” The crook of his mouth gently tips up, and he hoods his stare.
“That’s what I should’ve told you that night we were sittin’ across the way from The 1984 Barn.
I think about that night a lot, you know,” he adds.
“I had a hunch at the time, but I wasn’t sure if I’d meet a girl or woman who could top your beauty.
I didn’t think it was likely, but it wasn’t impossible.
And I was never one to lie to you. That’s why I never told you that. ”
String lights and western boots revolve in my mind. Spinning like a carousel until Brant and I emerge into focus.
Our sixteen-year-old selves.
Like clockwork, our heads rotate toward each other. My eyes volley between his for a few beats, eventually trailing down to his lips. The air shifts an inch. Our playful grins gradually dissipate, curiosity demanding our attention.
We’re friends.
Friends don’t kiss.
I swallow thickly. I pinch my gaze, my eyes scanning the delicate features of his face. “Do you think I’m pretty?” I ask.
Apparently, I’m a loaded gun of questions tonight.
He softly chuckles, his perfect teeth shining against the honeyed lighting in the distance. “What’s with all the questions?”
“I’ve seen countless women over the past ten years, and it’s one of my greatest regrets on that side,” he admits. “I know everything I need to as I look at you now. They’ll always be without as long as you exist.”
It’s funny, really.
I always thought that when I had these flashbacks of Willowhart, they’d be followed by tears and anger. But right now, there’s a smile creeping onto my lips from the delight swirling through my heart.
“Better late than never,” I say warmly.
All of my focus glues to him, and there’s a playful tick in the crook of his mouth. “Yeah,” he replies.
My hand lifts to tuck my hair behind my ear, and then I’m flicking my attention to my Range Rover. “I …I guess we’ll be seeing more of each other.”
“Just for business purposes?”
There’s dread that accompanies his question.
I shake my head, a worried smile blossoming from my lips before I look at him. “Oh, I don’t know, Brant. I’m not sure Jesse would like that very much.”
He pivots his head to the side. Gaze pinched and nostrils flaring. “Would you?”
There’s an ache etched in every crevice of his face, and I feel helpless.
Useless.
“I’m engaged,” I continue. “Jesse doesn’t even know the truth about you.
It wouldn’t be a nice thing to just spend time with each other behind his back.
” I sigh as I chuck my attention around, maneuvering my hand at the scenery.
“Hell, this is even out of line.” The heels of my palms meet my forehead, hair whisking as I shake my head in shame.
“I don’t even know what I’m doing right now. I shouldn’t have come here, I’m sor—”
“I can respect your boundaries, Callie.”
His tone is stern when I land my gaze on his. His Adam’s apple bobs, and he mildly wags his head. Like he’s in disbelief. “Of all people, I thought you would understand that. Don’t insult me so much.”
My eyes swell with impending tears. They race back and forth between his, and the steel bars around my heart bolt into place.
I realize that it has nowhere left to go.
The buck stops here with Brant.
As it should.
All I can offer is a timid nod. “I should leave,” I sigh out.
Brant shifts as he withdraws his cellphone from his back pocket. “I want you to have my number.”
“Bran—”
“In case you have any questions about the addition,” he interrupts. “You should be as involved as Jesse is. If you have a suggestion, I want to know about it.”
I exhale through a smirk, licking my lips as I glimpse over my shoulder. “Okay,” I breathe, plucking my phone from my crossbody.
We trade tender expressions as I create a new contact. He reads off the numbers for me to input, and then I’m sending him a simple text so he has my information.
I offer a tight-lipped smile, tucking my phone in my bag. I inch forward, and Brant steps aside when I reach the door of my SUV. But just as my left palm curls around the handle, he grabs it.
My head whips to him, electric sparks crackling between our flesh. In a flash, he connects his lips to my knuckles, the grate of his stubble lighting goosebumps up my arm.
His calculated eyes poke over the princess-cut diamond on my ring finger.
And then he releases me.
“You have a good night, Callie.”
He walks around me, and my right palm instantly cradles my tingling hand. My gaze follows his journey back into the tap room. Presumably, to close out his tab.
Shit.