God, I want to explain it to him properly. I want to explain what happened, but I know how he’ll react. He’ll blame me, and he’ll be right. It was my fault. If I’d said something about my father sooner, if I’d been brave enough, Malcolm never would have been able to hurt me the way he did. He wouldn’t have been able to throw me down those stairs. Punch me in the stomach. Slap and kick me so hard that it felt like my body was fracturing into a million pieces.
I stare down at the ground, eyes locked on a black smudge staining the toe of my red Chucks. “Thank you for getting my mom’s things for me, Callan. I’ll have to swing by with my car later on and grab them. I hope that’s okay.”
“Don’t be such a fucking pussy, Coralie. I know I shouldn’t have sold that picture. It was the shittiest thing I’ve ever done, but I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was seventeen, and it felt like the world was ending.”
“It was never about that stupid fucking photo, Cal!” I gasp for breath, fighting to hold myself together. “I didn’t leave because of that.” The words are out before I can stop them. I clamp my mouth shut, wishing I could rewind the last few seconds so I could take them back. It’s too late now, though. I’ve already pulled the trigger, and Callan’s looking like he just got shot.
“What? What do you mean?”
“I don’t…shit.”
He leans forward at the waist, staring me down. “What do you mean by that? Tell me right now or I’m gonna lose my mind.” I can see that he’s telling the truth. There’s a wild light in his eyes that’s brand new to me.
“I just said it was the photo,” I murmur. “But I didn’t care. The whole of Port Royal had seen my black eye. At the time, it didn’t matter if the whole world had seen it. I just said I was upset about it because…because I didn’t fucking love you anymore, Callan. I didn’t want to be with you!”
Standing up straight, Callan blinks at me. He sets his jaw, his head jerking back after a moment, like what I just said finally reached him. I wait for him to look crestfallen. Or something. The moment never arrives, though. He continues to stare at me like I have two heads. Gradually, steel forms in his eyes. He holds his hand out to me, palm up.
“Come with me, bluebird.”
“No, Callan. I have to go.”
“Do you want me to throw you over my shoulder? At this point, I’m not past doing it.”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Okay, then I guess we’re doing this here.” He rushes me, steps in close before I can stop him or move away. I’m still waiting for him to be crushed by my flagrant lie that I’m unbalanced by his sudden closeness. His presence is huge, engulfing me, making my body hum with energy. The smell of him floods my senses. The heat pouring off his body lights me up, has my head spinning. He’s so close, I can see his pulse beating frantically in the dip of his throat.
“I’m not your fair weather boyfriend back in LA,” Callan growls. “I’m not Friday. I’m not Shane or Tina. I’m not someone who’ll swallow something, simply because the words tumbled out of your mouth. I know you. I see into you. Your heart is my heart. Your breath is my breath. Your soul is my soul. Your pain…your pain is my fucking pain. So don’t expect me to believe you when you say you stopped loving me, because I looked you in the eye when you said goodbye to me, bluebird. My heart broke when yours did. My lungs stopped breathing when yours did. My soul hurt when yours did. My pain felt like it was killing me, just like yours did. You loved me then. You never stopped. You still love me now, the same way I still fucking love you.”
His mouth comes crashing down, his lips pressing hard against mine, and I feel it all at once—everything he was talking about. Our souls, hearts, bodies and minds truly as one, breaking and sealing together all over again. I can’t move as he kisses me. My feet feel like they’re encased in cement. I want to stumble back, to slap him across the face, hurry out of the kitchen and slam the door behind me, but I can’t. My entire being is combined with his in this moment, lost and found at the same time, caught in a riptide that can’t be fought against. This is a force of nature. I’d have more chance of withstanding a hurricane.
I feel small. I feel vulnerable. I feel saved.
Callan wraps his arms around me, pulling me to his bare chest, and he holds onto me tight. My breath catches in my throat as I gasp, trying to catch a breath around his kisses. My mind is swimming, seesawing wilding from fear to relief as he bruises my mouth with his, proving his words to me.