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“That’s unfortunate.”

He snorts. “Yeah, everyone called her French. Anyway, we fell into bed after a photoshoot last April. The chemistry was unbelievable. We ended up spending a weekend together. I fell in love.”

I don’t say anything, mainly because I hear the curl of sarcasm in the last word.

“I thought she felt the same way,” he continues, a thousand miles of regret in his voice.

I feel a sympathetic squeeze in my chest. Poor Callum.

“She blew you off?” I make myself ask.

He nods, features tight in the moonlight. “She had a boyfriend. I couldn’t handle it. Long story short, I tried to break them up. I thought if she was single, she’d remember how good we were together. Obviously, she saw my actions in a different light.”

I scuff dirt with the toe of my shoe. “You stalked her?”

“Yep, although I really didn’t see it that way. I thought I was loving her.” He pauses. “I have obsessive love disorder.”

I consider saying something flippant, like there are millions of women who’d welcome being obsessively loved by him, but I bite my tongue.

“Do you know what real love feels like?” he asks, voice tight with need. “Dr. C has described it, but I think a woman’s perspective would really help me.”

I listen to my heart, which is suddenly beating hard. Anxiety tingles down my arms.

I shouldn’t have smoked that cigarette.

“I’m the wrong person to ask,” I say finally. “I mean, I love my brother, and I can tell you what I know about that.”

He stares at me, silent and rapt.

“It, uh, makes me feel anchored. Jameson is like a weight that pulls me down, holding me to the world. I feel comfort when I think of him. And, um, I guess a big part of it is that he knows everything about me. All my flaws. And he still loves me.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do. I feel this… bond. Trust, I guess. No matter what happens, or how much we fight, he loves me and I love him. That’s all I’ve got, sorry.”

“That sounds nice.”

I glance at him, seeing his soft smile. “Yeah, it is.”

Studying his perfect features, ethereal in the moonlight, I wonder how it’s possible that Callum doesn’t know what love feels like.

“What about your parents?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “Foster kid.”

I wince. “Sorry.”

Callum waves away my apology. “But you’ve never been in love?”

My heart kicks my ribs again. “I thought I was. Two times. My high school boyfriend and my ex-fiancé, Kevin.”

“Will you tell me? Describe how you felt about Kevin?”

He sounds so freaking needy, I can’t deny him. But the truth comes like knives from my throat. “Kevin wanted to take care of me. I wanted to let him, and I tried to take care of him, too. He loved the version of me that was perfect wife material. I was seduced by the idea of being that person.”

“That doesn’t sound healthy,” he says dryly.

I huff. “Yeah, well, this isn’t Camp Healthy People.”