Chapter Thirty-Six Callum
Chapter Thirty-Six
Callum
Thunder crashes so violently, it sounds like the sky is splitting open above our heads.
Sophie jolts awake, and I glance at her, but keep my eyes on the road. We've just crossed the Welcome to Starling Cove sign, but the rain is so heavy I can barely see the road lines. I wish we were in my truck, not her sedan, especially as the tires catch on the flooding.
This storm is bad, and I think it's only going to get worse.
Sophie's eyes dart around, disoriented. Each gasp rattles in her chest, wet and painful, twisting my heart into knots. I smooth her head, trying not to flinch at the heat and the sweat on her forehead.
"Hey, it's okay," I say, forcing calm into my voice, eyes still on the road. "You're okay, baby."
"Callum," Sophie rasps, her voice barely above a whisper. She's taking deep breaths through her mouth, and her voice has a slight nasal tinge to it, as if she's congested. "I'm sorry, that scared me."
"Don't worry," I promise her. "We're almost home."
Reluctantly, I return my hand to the wheel and sigh in frustration at the orange detour signs.
The road to Sophie's apartment is closed.
I signal and turn down a side street, calculating another way out of this storm.
The other road adds five minutes to our drive.
Every second out here feels like an hour.
My thoughts are a tangled blur of noise and panic. Everything happening all at once isn't allowing me to focus—the rain hammering the car, thunder rumbling in the sky, the dark storm clouds swallowing any daylight, and my desperation to get Sophie out of this storm and safe.
And I'm trying to ignore the guilt settling in my stomach like a lead weight.
I'm usually steady under pressure, able to think clearly and logically, but now? I feel unglued because it's different when the person you love most is the one in danger, and not feeling well.
Just get her home, then we can figure out the rest.
We reach an intersection, and I see that the traffic lights are out.
Easing to a stop, I look both ways—multiple times—before carefully crossing.
I'm not taking any chances, not with the precious girl in the passenger seat, sniffling and coughing, then smiling at me to cover it up—to make me feel better.
Just get home, get inside, and out of this storm.
Get Sophie to safety first, and then we can call her doctor when we get back home.
Just get home.
"God," Sophie breathes, staring through the relentless rain beating down on the windshield. "This storm's really bad."
The tremble in her voice makes me immediately need to soothe her, even though the same fear is clawing at my own chest. She doesn't need more fear right now; she needs comfort.
I force a smile and keep my tone soothing. "We'll be home soon," I say, glancing at her. Though her eyes are worried and glassy, there's trust on her face. She nods and turns back to the road.
On the dashboard, the clock reads 11:02 in the morning, but the sky is so dark it looks like night. Somehow, the rain seems to pick up even more, and I put my high beams on, squinting to see the road in front of me.
My heart leaps out of my chest when I see it in the middle of the road.
"Shit!" I exclaim, my foot slamming on the brakes.
My left hand stays on the steering wheel, but my right arm shoots out on instinct, an iron bar across Sophie's chest. She gasps, right arm grabbing mine, but her left arm reaches out to me and shoots across my stomach, attempting to protect me, too.
Even as my heart slams against my ribs, panic and adrenaline coursing through my veins, warmth for her bleeds in as we skid to a stop. The only sound in the car is our heavy breathing as we gain our bearings, and I can finally see what's blocking the road a little more clearly now.
A massive tree branch sprawls across the road, so heavy that it's crushed an SUV parked along the curb. Damnit. There's no way through—the path is completely blocked, we'll have to turn back and go another way.
"Christ," I glance behind us and don't see any headlights, so I put the car in park and turn on my hazards. Turning to a pale, wide-eyed Sophie, my hands come up to cradle her face, and I flinch at the heat of her skin. "Baby, are you okay? Are you hurt? Did your port get—?"
"I'm okay, I promise," she says, reaching out to cup my own cheeks. "Are you okay?"
For a second, the noise fades—the thunder, the rain, all of it—the only thing left is the pure adoration I have for her. The reciprocal care I receive from Sophie grounds and steadies me. I close my eyes and lean forward to kiss her warm forehead, breathing her in.
"I'm okay. We're okay," I assure myself, and I hold her like that for a moment, trying to breathe and willing my heart rate to slow down.
I know that we can't stay here too long.
Someone could barrel into us without being able to see or just not paying attention.
Releasing her, I move to turn the car around when my phone buzzes in the cup holder.
Mom.
"Are you almost home?" She asks, not even allowing me to say hello. Her tone is sharp and frantic, sounding more worried than I've ever heard her before. My mom usually is so composed and calm that it startles me.
"Yeah, we're about ten minutes out. There's a tree down on Patterson. We have to take another way."
"Okay. Just—just be safe, Callum," her voice softens and warms when she asks, "How's my dove?"
"She's okay," I say, glancing over to Sophie, who smiles when she hears the nickname my mom uses while asking about her. "We'll be home soon."
"Bring her here." My mom orders, brooking no arguments from either of us. "Power's been flickering in and out here. Joan and Deb have already lost power in their neighborhood, and I don't know if Sophie's apartment has a generator."
When I glance over to Sophie, she nods her head in agreement, and I grab her hand to place a kiss on her fingers. "Will do."
"Oh, no," she mutters suddenly, sighing deeply.
"What?"
"We just lost power."
"Damn," I grind out, hating how out of control everything is feeling right now. "I'll hook up the generator when I get home."
"Be careful, Callum." Her tone changes—low and firm, that strange, quiet certainty she gets sometimes, like she's half in this world and half in another. "This storm's going to be a bad one."
I close my eyes as the thunder crashes above us, and I feel Sophie's hand squeeze mine.
"I will."
◆◆◆
Despite Sophie's protests, saying that she could walk, I still carry her inside.
My mom's waiting at the store's front door and holding it open for us.
I try to ignore the way her face tightens when she sees Sophie, worry lines sprouting outside her eyes and mouth.
Sophie's head lolls against my chest, eyes fluttering open and still attempting to smile at my mom.
"Hi, Maeve," she rasps, her voice barely audible over the thunder.
"Hello, sweet dove," my mom murmurs, brushing a damp strand of hair from Sophie's forehead. The hat slipped off in the car somewhere, and my mom's smile falters when she feels Sophie's skin. She meets my eyes for a moment, a brief flash of alarm reflected in them.
"I know," I whisper, my voice low and tight.
We leave our bag in the car and hurry upstairs.
Mom races ahead, opening doors. Candles light the dark apartment, and I carry Sophie straight to my bedroom.
Mom throws back the covers so I can lay her down, then rushes out on a mission.
I quickly grab a dry t-shirt, and she returns, tossing me a pair of pajama pants from her own closet.
Nodding in thanks, she closes the door to give us privacy, and I walk over to the bed. Gently removing the wig from Sophie's head, I lay it carefully on my side table, knowing how much it means to Sophie and not wanting it to tangle.
I easily lift Sophie, helping her sit up and say, "Let's get you out of these wet clothes, huh?"
Her shaky hands help me pull off her clothes, and she giggles softly, "Always trying to get me out of my clothes, huh?" she jokes.
I can't help but smile at her still being silly, hoping that maybe it's a good sign that she's feeling okay.
Maybe she's just exhausted. Maybe this busy weekend wore her out too much, and she just needs a day of rest.
Maybe...
I can't help the soft laugh that escapes me. "Can you blame me, baby? Have you seen you?"
Her tired giggle turns into a breathy cough, and I press a hand against her back until it passes.
I pull off her wet shirt and bra, pulling the navy shirt over her head that practically swallows her whole.
I help her settle back against my pillows, pulling off her shoes, socks, and jeans.
She lifts her hips and helps me pull the black pants on.
She hums in pleasure when the dry clothes are on, and it makes me smile. Her eyes open a little wider—they're still a little glassy—but she looks right at me.
I gently cup her cheek, and she smiles, "You make me..." she trails off, her voice a little slurred and garbled.
"What, baby?" I ask, leaning closer, brushing my thumb along the apple of her cheek.
Her brow furrows, "... it wasn't me... why he cheated on me..."
My heart stutters at her words, but I stay silent and let her speak.
"... it was him... his choice... his loss..."
"That's right," I whisper, my voice rough. "His loss."
She lets out a soft sigh. "You make me feel beautiful," she says slowly, almost as if she's dreaming. "Desirable. Even when I'm bald."
There's a small smile curving her lips, and a choked sound leaves me—half laugh, half ache—the fact that she would think hair could ever stop her from being gorgeous. The fact that she's still able to be silly while feeling like this.
God, I love this girl.
"You are beautiful," I tell her, my voice soft as I hold both of her hands in one of mine. "Always. The most beautiful girl in the world. Because you're Sophie—my otter—and I love you."