3. Landon

Callum had claimed we needed a vacation, and since I trusted that man with every aspect of my life after almost eight years of living with him, I'd agreed. He'd seen to the booking of a hotel, the flight, even my baggage.

I rarely went out into public, and the fact Callum had talked me into spending five days at an island resort said a lot about me believing he always had my best interests at heart. He was my comfort place. My Band-Aid, the one I ran toward and clung to when shit got to be too much, which happened more often than I cared to admit.

Especially when my mind overran with longing for the man I loved more than anything in the world, the one who still owned my heart regardless of the fact he'd abandoned me. Zack was my obsession even after fifteen years—and he was also the reason I wrote happily ever afters.

Regardless of the pain in our past, I couldn't help but want him. Dreamed about growing old with him. Tried to manifest that very thing for years on end while living out each good memory we'd shared in childhood.

Unhealthy, yes, but Callum offered me nothing but support in every endeavor. He'd told me countless times he only wanted my happiness, which meant one day making things right with my lost love and planting myself back into his life where fate intended me to be.

Callum had arrived at the island an hour earlier than I did. We'd ended up having to take different planes since our original flight had been cancelled. He had texted before I'd landed that he headed to the restaurant and would bring something to our room for me. His assumption that I would be peopled out from the airport and flight was spot-on.

But.

The warmth after leaving a frigid spring behind in New England, the refreshing scent of the ocean and flowers surrounding the resort made me want to take advantage of every second my hard-earned cash had afforded me in paradise.

I decided to surprise him, focusing on the good tingles of anxiety in my belly rather than the underlying fear of being recognized and stared at. While Callum had assured me over and again that enough time had passed since the event that had all but ruined me, I couldn't get past the festering wounds. The guilt and shame of having made one hell of a wrong choice ten years ago and being found out.

Publicly.

Virally.

The outcome had been self-esteem ruination atop my parent's bitter disappointment.

While I told myself I didn't care about impressing anyone, I didn't rush readying in the two-room suite Callum and I shared—just in case pictures of me once more ended up plastered across social media and the news.

And you know…in case he ever happened upon them and got inspired to miss me enough he took one of my calls and allowed me to apologize for what I'd done.

My light brown hair refused to be tamed, I noted in the bathroom mirror, its longer length brushing over the tops of my ears and forehead. Even though I actually wanted to go outside and join Callum at what must be a lonely dinner, I looked like a timid mess. My shit brown eyes appeared wider than normal, my skin pale from being shut up inside my condo, since I'd been hunched over my keyboard without a break in far too long.

A model, I was not, but at least I had a decent body thanks to good genes and daily sparring matches with Callum in our house's spare bedroom I'd turned into a gym.

My family might see me as lazy, believing that I lived off my grandfather's inheritance, but I was no fool. I also didn't lie around all day taking advantage of my friend who Father approved of because he thought Callum kept me in line.

Ha!

I snorted a laugh.

If Father only knew what I got up to during my work hours, where my mind went and how fantasies padded my bank account rather than just the investments he assumed, he would have that heart attack Mother had been warning him about for years.

Smirking and self-esteem somewhat boosted, I turned away from the unflattering bathroom mirror and exited the suite, following the signs to the outdoor restaurant.

Rarely did I go anywhere without Callum, and the fact I'd stayed put at my gate and boarded a plane after he'd disappeared into the sky spoke volumes about how far I'd come in the eight years he'd worked for me. But my codependency on Callum would never end, nor did I have a wish for it to do so.

Neither did Callum. He took pleasure in doting on me. Caring for my needy ass gave Callum a sense of purpose. His words, not mine. Placating me whenever the embarrassing selfish brat of my childhood reared his ugly head or threw a temper tantrum helped to settle his soul, he'd stated countless times.

We'd discussed our probably toxic friendship. But since we were both content with what we shared, what did it matter that we needed each other's issues to fulfill certain parts of each other? Callum accepted me, messy roommate that I was. He watched after me when the people who should have done so kept me on the fringes of their lives due to the many mistakes I'd made in my early twenties.

Just shy of twenty-nine, I'd learned a few lessons. Some, perhaps, a bit too late, but who gave a shit?

Well, honestly, I still did even though I pretended I didn't.

While following after the hostess who said she would show me to Callum's table, I recounted the good things in my life. I had a kickass job, the one I'd always dreamed of doing since I'd learned about romance, love, and lust. A faithful PA in the form of my best friend?—

Who danced with another man.

I stumbled to a stop alongside a flowering bush, blinking a few times in case my eyes betrayed me.

Callum didn't date. Didn't hook up. He'd told me he was gay like I was, but I'd teased him about being ace before assuring him that I would love him forever no matter how he identified. He always flushed—fucking always when I claimed that fact—making him look like a teenager rather than a thirty-three year old man who tended toward proper stoicism like no one else I knew, Father included.

And there he swayed, a dark-haired man holding him close.

"Sir?" The hostess returned to my side when she realized I'd stopped dead in my tracks.

I couldn't tear my focus off Callum or find words to excuse my stunned behavior that had drawn me up short.

Callum and the man he danced with were of similar height, a few inches taller than my five-ten. And the wide shoulders on the dark-haired man with his back to me promised he could carry a burden. He took care of himself, that was for damned sure, his fitted T-shirt doing little to hide his thick traps and the muscles in his back.

And his ass.

My dick perked up at the shorts clinging to cheeks that suggested the man spent more spare time at the gym than Callum and I. His thick thighs and calf muscles stated the same.

Swallowing a flood of drool, I slid my gaze upward once more, noting how Callum stared at his…unexpected hookup?

I had never seen naked desire in Callum's gaze before. Never experienced my best friend looking at someone like he wanted to throw them to the ground and fuck until he passed out.

"Sweet baby Jesus," I whispered, needing to adjust myself from the porn playing out in front of my six-month celibate ass. Even though there was no actual fucking going on, Callum and that man together were a fantasy I couldn't imagine cooking up regardless of my well-paid ability to do so.

Callum's dance partner had the body of a god, the kind that used to tempt me toward trouble after the love of my life broke my heart. I'd rebelled against my stubborn feelings that had refused to relent, but at least now, I avoided situations that caused nothing but drama.

They shifted, angling enough I clearly made out the man's profile in the flickering tiki torch's light.

Recognition stole every thought in my brain, and my breath abandoned my lungs like I'd taken an uppercut to the solar plexus.

He had a prominent nose. Strong jawline darkened by scruff. Dark brows overshadowing deep set eyes I knew the color of even though I couldn't make them out from the distance separating us.

Zackary Briggs.

I curled slightly in on myself, whimpering in ecstatic happiness at seeing him in the flesh, for the chance to talk to him, like I'd been desperate to do for too damned long. But a slew of questions jabbed like fists at my brain, stalling out my ability to make my dream come true.

What was he doing here?

Why was Callum dancing with him?

What the ever loving fuck alternate reality had my plane entered while flying over the Gulf?

There had to be a reasonable explanation, but I couldn't for the life of me come up with anything that made sense.

Zack's hand lay low on a back that wasn't mine. His nose trailed over Callum's ear as he whispered sweet nothings I wanted to swoon over. His thick thigh slid between my best friend's legs when it should have been me trembling in Zack's hold.

They moved together like liquid sex, arousal flushing though my entire body rather than the expected stab of jealousy. Zackary Briggs had always been irresistible, even as a teenager, so I didn't blame Callum for being all up in his space.

As though feeling my stare, Callum glanced my way. He quickly stepped back from Zack as though he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and I could almost hear the hard swallow that bobbed his Adam's apple.

Zack reached out to touch his arm but dropped his hand to his side as Callum shook his head.

I focused on Zack.

Finally—fucking finally—I had the opportunity of a lifetime. He'd denied me for too long, and I wouldn't be set aside again. My feet moved on their own, rushing me toward the man I intended to have forever.

Zack turned, the blood draining from his face as our gazes clashed across the twenty or so feet separating us.

"The fuck?" he muttered, red flushing his face as fast as the blood had fled a second earlier. "What the actual fuck?" he repeated harshly, glancing at Callum as I closed the distance between us, my sole aim to reclaim what I'd lost.