Happy.
No, he didn’t often go anywhere without her at all, but his sister had called, and Max had left suddenly, worried and quiet. The worry aspect didn’t bother Callie so much. Max was a born worrier when it came to the people he loved. But the quiet part was what bugged her. He hadn’t said a word. He’d simply told her he had to go and then left.
That had been two days ago. He’d called but he hadn’t volunteered what the issue was and she hadn’t pushed. She’d find out when he returned even if she had to drag it out of him.
He was getting better about not being so closemouthed about personal stuff, but he was still a clam. Callie was working on him.
Her cell phone rang, and she groaned again because she didn’t want to move in order to answer it. But it was one of her brothers calling—they all had the same ringtone—and if she didn’t answer, they’d only worry and come out to check on her.
She fumbled with her pocket and finally dug the phone out, putting it to her ear while she still lay facedown.
“’Lo,” she mumbled.
“How are you, baby girl?”
Dillon. Just hearing his voice sent warmth through her chilled veins. Of all her brothers—and she loved them all dearly—she and Dillon were most alike. The rebels or free spirits of the bunch. She’d always shared a closeness with Seth, a bond that she treasured, but she and Dillon had been cut from the same mold.
“Tired,” she said, not even bothering to lie and say fine. If it had been Michael or Seth, she could have gotten away with the lie, but Dillon had tossed her out of the bar bright and early, and he knew she didn’t look good.
She could hear him frowning through the phone.
“I think you should come over here until Max gets back. Let Lily fuss over you. Or if you won’t come here, at least go over to Mom’s so she can baby you.”
As tempting as the suggestion was, she was simply too exhausted to move. Going anywhere would require far more energy than she possessed. She wanted Max and Max wasn’t here.
“I’ll be fine,” she croaked out. “Just tired.”
Dillon snorted. “And don’t even think about coming back to the bar. You’re done. I’ll throw your scrawny ass out of here if you show your face.”
Callie sighed, not that she’d argue. She only worked in Dillon’s bar when Max was gone, which wasn’t often. It gave her something to do to pass the time. She knew Max wasn’t particularly fond of her working in the bar, but he didn’t say anything, which likely killed him.
She and Max … Well, they shared a different type of relationship. Which when she considered that her fathers and her brothers all had a very nontraditional relationship with their one wife, her and Max’s situation wasn’t that eyebrow raising.
Max was dominant. He expected—demanded—submission. Her submission. But he cherished it and her. But just because she willingly chose to submit to him, he never attempted to curb her free spirit. He loved it too much. He often told her that caging someone such as her was to squash everything that made her the woman he loved.
He was dominant, yes, but he spoiled, pampered, and lavished her with so much love and understanding that she simply couldn’t imagine her life any other way. His dominance settled her. Provided her a much-needed sanctuary and haven. She was safe with Max. And she was free to be herself because he loved everything she was.
“Going to bed now,” she mumbled to Dillon. “Promise.”
“Take care of yourself, Callie,” Dillon said. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
She ended the call and dropped her arm over the edge of the couch. The phone dangled from her fingertips before hitting the floor with a thud.