Chapter 17

Violet

Things have been more fun than I expected. Griffin grilled burgers while Callum, Paxton, and Brock stood around, looking as though they were helping, but mostly just chatting and laughing. It was amusing, watching the three of them, all brawn and bravado, pretending to assist when Griffin clearly had everything under control. Meanwhile, Hartford, Anya, Willow, and I sat around the fire, relaxing and enjoying the evening.

As we ate, I listened to everyone talk and joke, the easiness flowing between them. This family isn’t just close, they’re genuinely good friends. It’s heartwarming to witness and makes me feel almost honored to be part of it, even if my place here is temporary. It’s a glimpse into something I never realized I wanted until now.

Now, we’re roasting marshmallows, which had been deemed an essential camping item. The fire crackles as the sugary treats toast on the end of long sticks, each of us trying to get the perfect golden brown, or in Anya’s case, the perfect charred black.

"Anya, that’s disgusting. How can you eat a marshmallow that’s burnt completely black?" Paxton asks, grimacing as he watches her happily stuff the crispy blackened lump into her mouth.

"You don’t know what you’re missing, big brother," she teases, mouth full, laughing as we all join in.

I can’t help but feel at ease, surrounded by their humor. For a moment, it’s like I’m not the outsider and that I belong here, laughing and roasting marshmallows with them.

I glance over at Callum, who’s been quiet for the past few minutes. He’s staring at me, his expression soft, his eyes full of something I can’t quite put my finger on. It’s not intense or overbearing, just different. Like he’s seeing me in a new light.

“What?” I ask quietly, a small smile playing on my lips.

“Nothing,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “Just glad you seem to be having fun.”

His words are simple, but there’s something deeper in the way he says it. I can see the sincerity in his eyes, and it tugs at something inside me. Callum is more than I expected and I believe more than people probably realize. Each time I learn something new about him, it surprises me, and I can’t help but wonder how much more there is beneath the surface.

I smile back at him, feeling the strange pull that I’ve been trying to ignore. Being around him is becoming harder to compartmentalize, which is not what this is supposed to be.

Yet, when he looks at me with those intense eyes, it makes me feel things that I haven’t felt in far too long.

"Look at the lovebirds just staring at each other," Anya teases, her voice cutting through the quiet moment between Callum and me, bursting the bubble I hadn’t even realized we were in.

“Anya, stop,” Callum barks, his grumpy, no-nonsense side snapping into place. He runs his hand through his hair, clearly annoyed.

“Seriously, you guys are just married on paper and that's it?” Hartford chimes in, looking between the two of us with genuine curiosity.

“I’ve explained it all already,” Callum replies, the edge of frustration clear in his voice as he leans back, his jaw tight. He hates having to repeat this story, and honestly, I don’t blame him. The more people dissect what we have, the more confused I feel about it myself.

Anya and Willow exchange a glance, and my stomach knots with unease. The last thing I want is for people to start analyzing our situation, especially when I haven’t even figured it out yet.

"Well, Brock and I had a fake relationship going, and look where it got us," Willow says, smiling warmly as she leans into Brock. Her eyes sparkle with the kind of love that makes my heart twinge.

“True,” Brock adds with a laugh. “I didn’t think I’d end up falling in love with Willow. She drove me fucking crazy in the beginning.” He laughs, but it’s cut short when Willow playfully punches his arm.

“Ouch,” he winces, but the grin never leaves his face.

“Relationships aren’t always what you expect,” Hartford chimes in. “Look at me and Paxton. We were best friends for years before we finally figured out we wanted more.”

“Yeah, she couldn’t keep her hands off this perfect body,” Paxton adds, grinning as he lifts his shirt, flexing dramatically.

"For fuck's sake, put your shirt down," Callum groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, clearly annoyed. His frustration isn’t just about Paxton’s ridiculousness but the whole conversation. His patience is wearing thin, and I can tell he's had enough.

“Violet and I didn’t come camping to be judged or put under a microscope,” Callum snaps, his voice hard as he looks around the circle. “We came to relax because we both work our asses off and thought some time away with you idiots would be fun. But if this is how it’s going to be, I have no problem packing up and heading back home.”

There’s a heavy silence after his words, but I can’t help the small thrill that runs through me. He might not be defending my honor in the traditional sense, but watching him stand up and take charge, pushing back against the teasing and assumptions—it’s hot.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. How about tomorrow we all go down to the waterfall?” Anya suggests, glancing around the group. There’s a soft, apologetic note in her voice, like she’s trying to smooth over the awkwardness from earlier.

“Yes! That sounds like so much fun,” Willow chimes in enthusiastically. “We can all pack a lunch and make a day of it.” She glances between Callum and me, offering a shrug. “Sorry, guys. I’m totally down to just have fun.”

Callum glances at me, raising an eyebrow. His silent way of asking if I’m okay with the plan. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, a softness that surprises me, and I find myself grinning as I reach over, resting my hand on his arm. His muscles tense slightly under my touch, but he relaxes almost instantly.

“I think it sounds like a lot of fun,” I reply, smiling warmly at his siblings and their significant others.

“Yay!” Anya claps her hands, her energy contagious. “Let’s get to bed so we can get an early start.”

Just the mention of bed has me yawning. It’s been a long day, full of surprises and moments I’m still trying to process. Sleep sounds good until we all stand up and Callum and I head toward the same tent.

The reality hits me like a wave. I’m about to share a tent with my husband. The closest we’ve ever been. My heart starts pounding in my chest, and my palms grow slick with sweat as I wipe them nervously on my jeans. The cool night air does nothing to soothe the sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through me.

“If you want to go in and change, I’ll wait out here,” Callum offers, his voice cutting through my chaotic thoughts. He’s standing there, casually folding his arms over his chest, acting like this is no big deal.

But to me, it is.

I glance at him, and in a moment of bravery or maybe recklessness, I grin. “You’ve already seen me in my bra and panties. I think it’s okay if we change in front of each other.”

His eyes darken, the playful glint from earlier replaced with something deeper, more intense. For a second, I think he might argue or make a joke, but he just nods silently, his jaw tight, and unzips the tent.

As we climb inside, the small space suddenly feels even smaller. The walls seem to close in, not from the size, but from him. His presence is overwhelming, and every breath I take feels louder, more pronounced. The heat of his body radiates in the confined space, and I can’t help but regret my moment of boldness.

What was I thinking?

I fumble with my bag, trying to act nonchalant as I pull out my pajamas, my fingers trembling slightly. Callum moves beside me, his movements slower, more deliberate, as he tugs off his shirt. The air thickens between us, and I feel my face flush as I catch a glimpse of his broad chest, his muscles rippling with each motion.

This isn’t the first time I’ve seen him shirtless, but here, in this private space, it feels different. It’s charged.

I quickly turn away, pulling my own shirt over my head, suddenly hyper-aware of every single move I make. The air between us crackles with an unspoken tension, a weight that neither of us acknowledges but both of us feel. The silence in the tent is deafening, broken only by the sound of rustling fabric as we change.

When I finally turn back around, Callum is already lying down, one arm draped behind his head, eyes closed but his breathing is too controlled, too steady. He’s not really sleeping. He’s waiting.

I settle into my sleeping bag, careful to keep some distance between us, but the space is so small it’s almost impossible. The warmth from his body seeps into mine, and I have to remind myself to breathe normally, to calm my racing heart.

The quiet stretches on, thick and heavy, until I can’t take it anymore.

“Goodnight, Callum,” I whisper, my voice barely audible in the stillness.

“Goodnight, Violet,” he murmurs back, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down my spine.

I close my eyes, but sleep doesn’t come easily. Not with him lying so close. Not with the electricity still lingering between us, waiting to ignite.

Exhausted doesn’t even begin to describe how I’m feeling. The entire night, I was hyper-aware of Callum lying just inches away, and sleep was nearly impossible. Every shift he made, every breath he took, I noticed, and it kept me on edge in a way I didn’t expect. And from the way he’s moving this morning, I can tell he’s feeling the same.

“They better have coffee brewing,” Callum grumbles, his voice thick with sleep as he stretches, his body shifting beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.

My eyes travel over his muscular form, following the ink that winds across his arms like a road map of stories I’ve yet to hear. I bite my lower lip as my gaze slowly moves back up and meets his.

Damn, my husband is sexy.

He catches my stare, and a slow smile spreads across his face, one that sends my heart racing. There’s something about the way he looks at me, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking, and I can’t help but smile back.

“As your wife, I think you should know that you’re kind of sexy,” I say, my voice low and teasing, but the truth of it hangs between us.

His eyes darken, and his breathing picks up just a little, enough for me to notice. “As your husband, I think you should know that you’re as beautiful as you are sexy.”

The air between us thickens, the tent suddenly feeling warmer. We’re locked in a gaze, the kind that makes my skin tingle and my heart hammer in my chest. I can feel the electricity crackling between us, the unspoken attraction simmering just beneath the surface.

And for the first time, I feel as beautiful and sexy as Callum says I am. It’s a strange, intoxicating feeling, like I’m standing at the edge of something I don’t fully understand but desperately want to explore.

I lean in, my body moving before my mind can catch up. I want to kiss him, to feel his lips on mine again, to let this tension between us explode into something more.

“Coffee,” Callum says abruptly, breaking the spell. He unzips the tent and climbs out, leaving me sitting there, stunned and breathless.

Maybe I’m fooling myself. Maybe all these moments between us are just my imagination playing tricks on me. But it feels so real. Too real.

I shake my head, pulling myself together, and follow him out of the tent, only to see him standing by the makeshift table, a crumpled note in his hand and frustration written all over his face.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he mutters.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, stepping closer.

He turns to me, holding up the note. “They left already. It says, ‘Pack a lunch and meet us there.’” He crumples the paper in his fist and tosses it into the fire pit, his jaw tight. “Why the hell would they do that?”

He’s not really asking me; he’s venting, but I step forward anyway, resting my hand on his shoulder. His tense posture softens slightly as he lifts his eyes to mine.

“Maybe they thought we’d like to sleep in. I mean, we never do,” I say with a small smile, trying to ease the tension. “Don’t get angry at them. Let’s just get ready and find them. It’ll be a fun day. Don’t let this little speed bump turn into a roadblock.”

For a moment, he just stares at me, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he pulls me into a quick hug. It’s brief, but his arms around me send a wave of warmth through my entire body, leaving my legs weak as he pulls back with that signature grin of his.

“How do you do that?” he asks, his voice laced with genuine curiosity.

“Do what?” I ask, trying to play it cool, but my pulse is racing.

“Get me to calm down so quickly and see things differently. No one’s ever been able to do that before,” he says, almost mesmerized, as if he’s just realized something important.

I shrug, trying to brush it off like it’s no big deal, even though the way he’s looking at me makes my heart skip a beat. “I just talk to you, try to get you to see things from another point of view. It’s not hard.”

His gaze flickers down my body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake before settling back on my eyes. “It is a big deal. You have no idea.” He pauses for a second, like he’s weighing his next words. Then, with a nod, he says, “Let’s get lunch packed and get this day started. It’s a bit of a hike.”

As he turns to gather supplies, I stand there for a moment, trying to steady my breathing. These moments between us—they’re becoming harder and harder to ignore. And I’m starting to realize I don’t want to.