Page 17

16

Calista

After

“What do you see?” I instructed Fane to park his truck right next to the park in the center of town, and I was sure we looked a little peculiar standing in the middle of it staring at the children’s playground.

This was very much a trust the process tour.

Fane’s hand shot up, and a very satisfied grin graced his face. I knew this was going to come back and bite me in the ass.

“Yes?” I sighed.

“Am I allowed to answer without raising my hand every time?”

“God, I just want to—” I cut myself off, opting to take a deep breath instead.

“Spank me?” He waggled his eyebrows at me, and my hand twitched at my side.

“Was that twitch because you do want to spank me? Or you just really want to exercise your right to use your middle finger?”

“I’m sure you can figure it out.” I leveled him with my most unimpressed look.

“It’s both, isn’t it?”

I opted to say nothing because if I moved even a single muscle on my face, he’d know what I was thinking.

He was being too familiar. Too much like that person I’d binded myself to. I didn’t want to laugh or smile and joke. I didn’t want to play with this version of him that was cheeky and lighthearted and often made it a point to end every interaction with me out of my clothes and moaning his name.

“What do I see?” His features relaxed into something that resembled some type of seriousness when he realized he was going to get nothing more from me.

I watched him stand across from me, the bluebird day balancing him out. All bright and light where he was dark and mysterious. I have no idea how he did it, but he looked both out of place and like he grew right where he stood.

“Yes.” I could feel his surprise without needing to look at his face. In the last week, if Fane so much as blinked funny, I would have probably bitten his head off. When I wasn’t ignoring his existence, of course.

But not here. Not when this wasn’t about him and me, not when something so much more important hung in the balance.

“Grass?”

“Are you asking me if you see grass?” I glanced at him from the corner of my eye and found him genuinely looking around the park with a crinkle between his brows. I couldn’t see his eyes hidden behind the darkened lenses of his sunglasses, but I could imagine the way they’d be tracking over every inch of the space around us like I’d walked him right into an active minefield and provided him instructions on getting safely out in the form of a silent, interpretive dance.

“Grass.” It was a statement that time, and I couldn’t stop the roll of my eyes or the smile that wanted to crack through without permission. If I thought he’d miss it, I was sorely mistaken.

“Is that a smile? ”

“And you’ve ruined it,” I huffed and started to walk to the center of the grassy expanse. “I want you to look around and tell me what you see,” I said again when Fane finally joined me.

“Families,” he said thoughtfully, like he really was taking this seriously and not just placating me. “I see a playground with kids on it.” He gestured toward the weathered and worn swing set in the corner. A little boy swinging his legs with all his might to get higher. A little girl’s squeal as she made her way down the slide. “And trees.” He looked at me, his brow no longer crinkled.

“And what do you hear?” I asked him. “You can close your eyes and focus on it. I

promise I won’t do anything to you.”

“Wonderful, that’s reassured me a whole zero percent.”

“Fane.” His name was nothing more than an exasperated sigh, and I made sure I had a good clamp on my features when he took one step away from me for good measure before lifting his sunglasses onto the top of his head and closing his eyes.

“I hear the kids playing,” he murmured. Thoughtful. “Birds, the wind…”

“Anything else?”

“Yes.”

I glanced at him quickly before looking away again. “Are you going to share?”

Fane took a deep breath before he started to speak. “I can hear the way your dress sounds when your arm moves against it. The small humming sounds you make when you’re watching something that makes you happy. The deep breaths you’re taking, like you’re so aware of how your lungs are expanding. Like you’re grateful for it.”

That…Well, that I hadn’t been expecting.

I also hadn’t been expecting for his eyes to be open and on me, or for the expression on his face to look quite as vulnerable as it did.

What was I even supposed to do with that?

There once was a time I would’ve looked at his face, seen the expression on it the same way I did now, and know for certain what he was feeling.

Not only did I not trust him , but I didn’t trust myself. Not around him.

When Fane took a tentative step toward me, I pretended I didn’t see it. Pretended I hadn’t heard a word he’d said.

“There’s a reason why I brought you here as the first stop on our tour.” My voice sounded brittle and worn, and that just wouldn’t do.

I pointed at the park that had started to fill with more children while we’d been standing here. “Some of my favorite memories were made right there.”

“I remember you telling me.” He sounded closer, like if I leaned back, I’d feel the hard planes of his chest against the curve of my back, and it would feel like finally I wouldn’t have to be the only thing keeping myself upright.

The thought made my nose sting, and I stepped away to escape it.

“It looks the same.” I pointed at the old swing set, its weathered frame holding strong. “My dad used to push me on that. And now those kids are making their own memories. One day, they’ll grow up, leave, and maybe never come back. Or maybe they’ll stay. But this swing set will still be here, looking just like this. Steady. Unchanged.”

I turned around to face him, settling my eyes on the base of his throat. I traced the details of the tattoos I had promised myself I wouldn’t catalog but already had instead of meeting his stare.

“They might fall in love, maybe lose their way, but this park will still be here. Dependable. Something they can count on. Do you know why?”

I didn’t really expect him to reply, but his silence did make me finally lift my eyes to his. They had always been brilliant in the sunlight. Flickering between the hues of violet they usually favored and shades of the lightest blue. The copper flecks picked up the sunlight that always reminded me so much of him and reflected it back out, making them almost luminescent.

“Because it’s been cared for. Looked after by people who love it. That’s why it’s lasted. That’s what this town is, Fane. It’s not a pit stop; it’s a place people invest in. Not just with money but with years of their lives. If you change that, you lose everything that makes it special.”

I’d been talking about a park for way too long, but it wasn’t just about the park. The park was a symbol.

I willed him to see that, to understand it.

“Okay,” he said, and I didn’t even flinch when he reached to catch a flyaway tendril of hair between his fingers. I didn’t miss the way he rubbed the strands between his fingers before tucking it behind my ear.

I studied him, and he let me. His expression was still open, and maybe for the first time since he got to town, he was hiding nothing. So, for right now, I decided to believe him. Even though almost every part of me was screaming at how reckless that was, how I knew what happened when I fell into him.

I knew it all, and I still believed him anyway. “Okay.”

It was like he knew that this moment was too much. That we were both missing whatever walls we’d built. If anything, I was grateful to see his cocky little smirk slip back into place.

“So, are you going to take us to the local make-out spot next?”

Gratefulness over.

“ And you’ve ruined it,” I muttered, turning from him and walking back to his truck.

It was a very nice truck. I’d never known Fane Mackenzie to have such luxurious things, but I could admit that it was nice to see him doing well for himself despite it all.

“I might even let you kiss me again.”

I lifted my middle finger high over my head, keeping my back to him, glad he couldn’t see the way his laughter hit me. Like a punch to the sternum, sharp and unsteady. It was the painful stretch of a muscle unused for far too long. And yet, I leaned into it, because there was relief in knowing it hadn’t just been in my mind. It was as beautiful as I remembered. When it faded, I sank into the peace that it left behind, grateful that that too was just like I remembered.

* * *

Fane ran ahead of me to open my door before we got back into his truck instead of making a comment (again) about how it must be weird for me to get into a car with real, working safety features. And I just said thank you instead of telling him to go sit on a cactus.

It was…nice.

It felt dangerous.

It was dangerous to be anything but completely uncivil toward him because if I wasn’t being an asshole, I was going to be myself. That version of me didn’t hate Fane as much as the other version claimed to.

That tentative peace followed us all the way home. It made the silence that had settled around us not as heavy as it felt at the start of the day.

I stayed in the shower until my fingers pruned, desperate for the hot water to knead my muscles, to dissolve the knots that never loosened. But today? They felt worse. The day had left me wrung out, left with the realization that I was getting too comfortable with having him around. I expected him to fight me with reasons why changing the park would be better for everyone. Instead, I was met with an alarmingly understanding “okay,” and my door opened for me.

I was exhausted.

When I emerged, the smell of Fane’s Chili had taken over the house, weaving its way under the bathroom door and right into my stomach. By the time I joined him on the couch, my defenses had already begun to crack. A bowl of food already waited, being eyed with a severe sort of want by Jerry, whose tail started to wag guiltily when he spotted me.

I didn’t even care about the full-body shiver of delight that moved through me at the literal orgasm my taste buds were having.

“God, you suck,” I mumbled.

“Oh, yeah?” He sounded amused. He sounded warm . Like I could slip right under his arm and close my eyes. He sounded safe.

I hid the way my stomach dropped and my chest squeezed with a feeling I could only describe as dread.

“Yes.” I nodded into my bowl, pushing past the discomfort of it.

“The insult doesn’t surprise me, but more context would be great so I can make sure I do it again.”

I shot him a halfhearted glare and shoveled another spoonful into my mouth. “You’re still such a good cook. It’s not fair.”

“Should I have lost that skill for some reason?” He pointed his sauce-covered spoon at me, right in front of Jerry, and didn’t even flinch as he started to lick it. “Did you do one of those witchy spells to make my dick fall off?”

I looked over at him with eyes wide and really did try to hide my smile. “You’re telling me it worked?!”

Fane laughed, unrestrained, and it hit me right where it hurt. It wasn’t just the sound—it was the way it tugged at memories better left untouched. The image of him dropping a kiss on my head, whispering something in that same warm, easy voice.

We both knew his dick had absolutely not fallen off. Lest we forget the way I’d all but dry-humped him out the back of Sunshine.

“Oh, you’re thinking of something dirty.” Fane narrowed his eyes on me.

“No, I’m not.” My reply came all too quickly.

“Yes, you are. Your face has gone all peachy.” He pointed a tattooed hand in my face, and I swatted it out of the way, desperate to change the topic.

“You have more tattoos.” Ah, yes. Way to ease into it, Calista.

“I do.” His expression had turned thoughtful, the tilt to his head not as predatory as usual but more curious. Like he was daring me to ask him about them because he knew I wanted to know. A part of me wanted to give in to him, but the other part, a very large part, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

I was grappling for that anger. The knot of which was tied around my heart had loosened through the afternoon. I needed it back.

“They’re nice.” My voice was flat. I regretted even bringing it up and hoped he’d just drop it when I directed all my attention back to the television.

“You want to know what they mean?” His tone lost its teasing edge, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure which answer would hurt more—asking or pretending I didn’t care.

“I don’t.” The lie sat heavy between us, but it was enough to sever whatever tentative thread had been pulling us closer.

“Thanks for dinner.” I pushed away the half-eaten bowl and stood, not waiting for a reply.

I was kidding myself, thinking that retreating to the bedroom would give me a reprieve from Fane. He’d already sunken into every nook and cranny of this house.

“Good night, Rose.” His voice was dark, husky, and it took everything in me not to turn around. To not to ask him one of the thousands of questions I had for him in the same breath that I demanded he leave.

Instead, I reached for that knot of anger, tightening it until it felt like I was choking, and slipped into the darkness of the bedroom.

I imagined he’d come after me, that he’d give me what I wanted: the perfect excuse to yell at him. To pick a fight. To fuel my anger.

When I heard the front door open and close, for one paralyzing moment, I wondered if he had been awake when I left him, slipping out the front door without a sound, if he would have felt anywhere near as broken as I felt right then.