Chapter Twenty-Two

Callie

Maybe I should’ve told Gray no when he offered to give me a ride, but I didn’t have it in me. I told myself it was because I didn’t want the hassle of sorting my own transport. But the truth is, I want to spend just a little more time with him. Emery cried when I said goodbye. I sit in silence as Gray drives us through the pine forest. I still feel like the world’s biggest heel for leaving her like that.

“She’ll be okay,” I murmur after a long silence. “I bet she’ll forget who I am pretty soon.”

“Hmm,” Gray grunts. He looks dashing in his suit. Tension ripples through him, his hands tight on the wheel, his strong jaw jutting powerfully from his face.

“Hmm?” I mutter.

“I just don’t know if she’s ever going to forget you,” he says.

I want to ask about all that stuff he said last night. Standing with his back turned, his muscles seeming to throb through his clothes, in essence, he said we could be the real deal, that we could exist in some long-term place together, that we could make it work on a level I never would’ve dreamed of, or let myself dream of, maybe. I want to tell him I’m sorry for implying that he could ever be as manipulative as a cult leader.

But I say none of that. We sit in awkward silence.

“What are you going to do for work?” he asks as the city comes into view, rising almost threateningly on the skyline.

“I’ll work something out,” I murmur.

“I’ll give you a good reference,” he says.

“Thanks, Gray.”

I want to put my hand on his arm. I want to tell him that I feel it too, that all-too-natural attraction that brought us together and makes the idea of separating feel physically painful.

There’s a traffic jam heading into the city. He brings the car to a stop, drumming his fingers on the wheel, glancing at me, his fierce eyes holding me in place. He makes every moment seem significant somehow.

“I want you to know, last night, all that stuff I said…”

“It was heavy,” I murmur.

“Did it scare you?”

“It probably should have, right?”

He puts his hand on my leg. Dammit. I wish he wouldn’t do that, and yet I wish he’d never stop, either. An electric feeling sizzles up my thigh, goes straight to my core, and makes my belly tighten. The more time we spend together, the more difficult the idea of separating becomes. It’s like fate put this traffic jam here to force us to be together just a little longer.

“But did it?” he says fiercely.

“You can’t have meant it,” I murmur. “All that stuff… it was so intense, so fast . There’s no way you looked at some curvy girl from the city, your nanny, and thought, yeah, she’s the one. We’re going to be together forever. That’s just not how people think.”

He removes his hand, letting out a tired sigh. It’s not as if I’ve outright rejected him, but there’s enough of a flavor of rejection there to make him back off. And, conveniently, it means I don’t have to give him my answer. Did it freak me out?

My belly tingles, my thigh aching with the phantom sensation of where he touched. No—it didn’t. In fact, when he was saying all those things, I felt like I was in a story, magical notes of longing thrumming in my heart. I felt like all the nasty untruths I’ve told myself for so long—nobody can love me, I’m not attractive, I’m destined to be alone—came crashing down.

I have to think of Emery. Of reality. We live in the real world, not one of those romances I’m constantly losing myself in.

“Sometimes, I think I’ve been living on half speed,” Gray says huskily as the traffic begins to move. “There’s always been something holding me back, something deep inside. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s just my nature. Maybe it was the belief I would never, could never care. But lately, I’m beginning to wonder if I should take a leap, Callie. If I should stop questioning everything I think, everything I feel.”

I swallow, my heart thundering. It’s like he’s describing my own emotions. “It feels like there’s always been this hill,” I murmur. “In your mind, stopping you from acting, stopping you from being like everybody else. And no matter how hard you try or wish you were made different, you just can’t climb it.”

“Yes,” he says passionately. “Exactly.”

“Maybe if it was just us, we could climb the hill together,” I murmur. “But if we fall, it won’t just be me and you who fall. And you have to think about Sloane. I’m sorry, Gray.”

As the traffic stops again, he turns to me. His eyes are hard. His lips quiver. He looks like a man on the edge of saying something meaningful. My heart pangs with the memory of last night, all those profound words he threw at me. But then he murmurs, “Me too.” And turns back to the road.

***

“I can help you with your things,” he says, grabbing a bag from the back of the car and frowning at my apartment building.

“What?” I ask.

“What?” he echoes.

“That look on your face. I know it’s nothing compared to your place, but it’s the best I can do.”

“I’m not judging you,” he says. “Come on.”

“My dad might be home,” I tell him. “Just to warn you.”

“Is that a problem?” he asks.

I shrug. I don’t know why the thought makes me so nervous. Possibly, it’s because it feels like more than an employer—or ex-employer—meeting my dad.

We head upstairs. I was right. Dad’s in the living room, standing at the window with his old camera in his hand. He always wanted to pursue photography, but the cult had a bunch of bogus rules about personal expression. Dad turns, smiling. He’s on the shorter side, gray hair peeled over the bald spot on top, with a warm expression that the world has never been able to beat down.

“Dad,” I say. “This is Gray. Gray, this is my dad, Sebastian.”

Dad lays his camera down and approaches Gray, offering his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“And you, sir,” Gray says. “I’m sorry it couldn’t be under better circumstances.”

I flinch, shooting Gray a look.

“Excuse me?” Dad says.

“I just… ah, didn’t Callie tell you? Things didn’t, uh, work out between us.” I smile at how boyish Gray has suddenly become. Somehow, despite everything, he can still draw a smile out of me.

“Oh,” Dad mutters, taking a step back.

“It’s fine, Dad.”

“Callie said everything was going well,” Dad says. “She was bonding with… Emery, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” Gray says. “Callie is amazing at her job. She’s attentive, enthusiastic, and caring. She’s the best nanny I’ve ever had. It has nothing to do with her. It’s my ex—it’s a personal issue. I’m sorry, sir.”

Dad shakes his head slowly. “You don’t have to apologize to me .”

I swallow. Things are getting tense. “Honestly, Dad, it’s fine. Gray, shall we get the last of my things?”

In the hallway, Gray says. “I’m sorry. I thought he knew.”

“It’s fine,” I say.

Suddenly, Gray spins and grabs my shoulders. It’s like a burst of fiery longing is flaring through him. He leans down, staring into me— into me — like he can see all the confusion muddling my heart. “It’s not fine,” he growls. “We shouldn’t be doing this. We shouldn’t pretend we’ll be able to walk away.”

What am I thinking? I’m not, apparently, because I grip his shoulders and pull him in for a kiss. I press my body against him, feeling his heat burning through his clothes, like any second we’re both going to go up in flames. I only stop when I hear somebody coming up the stairs.

He takes a step back, shuddering, his face red with passion.

“What other choice do we have?” I say.

He grits his teeth, and it’s like I can see all the things he wants to say, all the madness he wants to offer. Maybe he’ll start using silly words like love and stepmom again.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

I almost slap him. Suddenly, I feel as if I’m on the verge of tears, but I manage to beat them back down and swallow the agony. It’s not fair of him to ask me that as if what I want is the only thing at stake here.

“Let’s just get the rest of my things,” I murmur, turning away.