Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

L ock ran through the mountains, the air whipping over his face while his feet sank into the earth.

Time…the word had been repeating in his head over and over again, and it still felt wrong.

Two years ago, he’d had to shoulder losing Callie and his teammate in the span of an hour. It had been so much. But the one thing that had gotten him through, the thing that had kept him alive and breathing, was the unwavering faith in his reckless love for her.

But now, being here, seeing the shadows under her eyes, experiencing her pushing him away time and again, he was questioning whether his love was enough.

And to make it worse, she was receiving those fucking notes. Had she received more since that day in her studio? Was she safe?

He forced his body to move faster, pumping his arms and pounding his legs.

There were so many moments in his life for which he’d like a do-over. So many seconds he wished he could take back or replay. But the way he’d handled that morning with Callie…that was his biggest regret. It would always be his biggest regret. Because maybe if he’d done something differently, maybe if he’d given her more of a hint as to why he needed them to take a break, things would be different now.

By the time he neared his house, his chest was heaving, the air soaring in and out of his lungs.

A truck in front of the house had his eyes narrowing. Kayden’s truck. What the hell was he doing here, and how had he figured out where Lock lived?

Kayden rose from the steps in front of his door, brows lifting. “Looks like you pushed yourself a bit hard, brother.”

Lock stopped in front of him. “How’d you know where to find me?”

“Eastern followed you home from the bar last night.”

The fuck? He’d had a tail and he hadn’t noticed? He was trained to notice that stuff. Sure, he hadn’t been in a good headspace, but that was no excuse.

“Don’t take it too hard,” Kayden said, as if reading his mind. “When Eastern wants information, he gets it.”

Lock rounded his brother and moved into his house, leaving the door open after him.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here?” Kayden asked, the click of the door closing sounding after him.

“I know why you’re here.” He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and downed half of it. “You want to know when I bought this house and why. And you probably want to know why I didn’t tell anyone. You were sent by the others because they thought you’d have the best chance at getting the information, being the oldest sibling.”

Kayden smirked and muttered, “Fucking know-it-all,” under his breath.

Lock threw him a second bottle. “No, I just know that my brothers are nosy assholes. Nylah would probably be in on it too if she were here.”

“I was just on the phone with Nylah, actually. I promised to call back and update her on your house stuff on the way home.”

Of course he did.

Lock’s phone vibrated on the counter, and just like every other time, there was a second of wild hope that it would be her. That Callie was calling, ready to work things out.

It wasn’t her. It was never her. It was another job request.

“This place is looking good.”

Lock leaned against the counter. “You saw it before?”

Kayden shook his head. “Not for a while, but I know old man Peterson lived here for sixty years before he passed, and he never updated or fixed a single thing. It was a dump for a long damn time. You’ve done good.”

“It’s getting there.”

“It is. But my question is, when did you buy it?”

“A bit over two years ago.” There was no point in lying.

Kayden frowned as he pieced it together. “You bought it for Callie.”

“I bought it for both of us.”

If possible, the frown deepened. “I didn’t know you two were that serious back then.”

“I loved her.” No, not loved…love. Present tense. And that was something that would never change.

Kayden’s features softened. “I’m sorry you haven’t been able to work things out.”

“I don’t know what to do. I know I hurt her, but I didn’t expect her to disappear. I thought after the few weeks it took my team to eliminate Malone, I could return and explain myself.” Why he was telling his brother all this, he wasn’t sure. Maybe he just needed to get it out. Needed someone to hear.

Kayden cocked his head. “She said she wanted time, right?”

Did Eastern just broadcast every fucking thing from last night, word for word? “Yeah.”

“So, do it. And in the meantime, just be her friend.”

“Callie and I have never been friends.”

Kayden lifted a shoulder. “Just because you’ve never done something doesn’t mean you can’t.”

He was right. And friends…well, it was better than nothing. He just wasn’t sure she wanted that, either.

His phone vibrated again, and he expected to see another unknown number, a local asking him to fix something around their house.

It wasn’t.

It was Callie.

She was calling him.

“Honey, stop looking so worried.”

Callie shifted her gaze from the road in front of her to her father. “I’m not worried.”

“Your fingers are wrapped so tightly around the wheel, your knuckles are white.”

Dammit. She forced her grip to loosen, but there was nothing she could do to unravel the tightness in her chest.

“Okay, maybe I’m a little worried.” Worried and sad and frustrated and a million other things. She shot another look at her father, taking in the new lines etched into his brow. The shadows under his eyes.

Slowed speech, balance problems, challenges with swallowing…

They were all symptoms the doctor said could develop. And that was on top of the fatigue and muscle pain he already had. Her heart clenched at the thought of her strong, independent father going through this.

“We’re upping your classes at the studio.” Yoga and Pilates were great for people with Parkinson’s.

“Callie, stop.”

“Stop what?”

“You’re overthinking everything. Stay in the moment, honey. I’m okay.”

He said the last two words softly but firmly. Like he knew she needed to hear them.

She pulled into his driveway and sucked in a breath. It took a few seconds to get the words out, and when she did, they hurt. “I just…I want you to be okay.”

His hand covered hers in her lap. So warm and familiar. “I am okay.”

“But Parkinson’s is…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence. How was she supposed to describe the illness when someone she loved had it? So many nights she’d gone down the rabbit hole of research, and every time she did, she never found any hope.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

It took a moment, but finally she turned to look at her father. At his familiar green eyes. Eyes that looked so much like her own. “There is no amount of time or space or illness that could take me away from you. I will always be with you…even if it doesn’t seem like it. Do you understand?”

Tears gathered in her eyes, and she leaned over to tug her father into a hug. “I love you, Dad.”

“Couldn’t possibly be as much as I love you.”

“Not true.”

He hugged her back, his embrace so tight it was like he was holding her together. But then, he’d always held her together, particularly on her hardest days, when all she wanted to do was fall apart.

They separated, and he swiped a tear from her cheek. “Thank you for coming to my checkup with me.”

“You don’t need to thank me for that, and I’ve already got the next one on my calendar.”

“Callie—”

“I’m coming to all of them. I told you that.”

“Jeez, you’re stubborn.”

“I wonder where I got that from.”

Her dad chuckled and the sound made the first real smile stretch Callie’s lips since they’d left the specialist.

He gripped the door handle. “I’ll see you tomorrow for yoga, then dinner. I’ll make—”

“Nope. I’m cooking. I’ll make your favorite lentil curry.”

He opened his mouth, looking like he was about to argue, but maybe he realized it was an argument he wouldn’t win, because he shook his head and climbed out of the car. “I look forward to it. Call if you need anything.”

She nodded, even though she wouldn’t. No way would she burden him with any of her problems.

She waited until he was inside his house before pulling back onto the road. Instantly, the heaviness returned to her chest. But there was also something else—anger. That people just kept being taken from her. And the saddest part was, she’d always stupidly assumed her father would always be there.

When she pulled into her own driveway, she took a moment to inhale a calming breath before getting out. She still remembered the day her father had called to tell her about his diagnosis. She’d been hit by disbelief. Anger. Sadness. And guilt. So much guilt. That in the process of running from this town, she’d inadvertently run from her dad and lost two entire years with him.

Never again. She was never leaving him again.

She went inside, not surprised to see Aspen’s car wasn’t in the drive. She would either be out with Dylan or in a park or a café, writing. Her best friend struggled to write at home. Something about needing people and noise and inspiration.

If it was her, those things would distract her. But then, maybe that’s why she wasn’t a writer.

She dropped her bag on the hall table and paused at the sticky note on the pile of mail.

Pretty sure these are bills, so I haven’t looked at a single one, as I’m manifesting a good day. Oh, and I made chili. It’s in the fridge. You’re welcome.

A smile curved Callie’s lips. Of course bills would affect Aspen’s day, because she hadn’t finished her book in too long so her income had to be dwindling.

Quickly, she shuffled through the mail. Aspen was right.

Bill. Bill. Bill.

She was about to drop the pile when she reached the last one.

All the fine hairs on her arms stood on end at the sight of that familiar writing.

No . This couldn’t be from him. This was her home address. It wasn’t public knowledge. He shouldn’t have access to it. Had he followed her home?

The idea made a shudder roll down her spine.

With shaking fingers, she tore open the envelope to find a single piece of paper.

Whenever I see your hair, I just want to touch it. I bet it’s soft like silk.

Nausea curled in her belly.

Lock was right. She needed to tell Eastern. This was too far.

She also had to tell Aspen. If they had her address, this involved both of them.

Quickly, she crossed her living room into the kitchen to grab the other letters she’d stashed in a drawer—only to stop at the sight of the back door. The back door she thought she’d fixed.

Only right now, it was open. Wide open.

Her heartbeat stumbled over itself. She lifted her phone and called the person with whom she’d always felt safest. The man she absolutely should not be calling.

He answered on the first ring.

“Callie?”

“Lock…I need you.”