Page 35

34

Calista

After

Ashton confessed that we were now completely out of ingredients for cookies.

After I chased him around, trying to pinch any part of his body I could grab onto, and he started crying like a little baby asking Fane for help, I was hauled out of my own café. My only consolation was a verbal promise that the cookie ingredients would be replaced before I was back to work the following Friday and that he had a good number for someone who could help me with my aggression.

“I love her aggression, you asshole. Replace the cookies!” Fane called out over his shoulder.

When he set me down out front, I was staring at him with nothing short of heart eyes. “You’re my hero,” I declared, pulling out my phone.

“What are you doing?”

He tried looking at my phone and the Notes app I’d pulled up before I pressed my phone to my chest.

“Just adding to my list.”

“What kind of list?” He slung an arm over my shoulder while we walked.

“You’ll see.”

“Is it a sex list?”

“You think about sex way too much.” (It was absolutely a sex list.)

One I did my best to keep from his prying eyes by trying to walk ahead of him.

“For calling Ashton an asshole?” He was grinning down at me now, eyebrows raised like he didn’t quite believe me.

“You looked sexy while doing it.” I shrugged. “Like a big, tattooed, sexy city cowboy.”

Fane hummed, pretending to think about it. “I can work with this.”

Pulling out his phone, he dialed Ashton, keeping his eyes on me while he spoke. “Hey Ash, if you don’t replace those cookie ingredients by tomorrow, I’ll toast your balls.”

He winked at me, and I snorted so loudly it echoed.

“And you need to make it up to her…No, managing the café isn’t enough, especially when you eat all her stock…If you bring a cake to dinner tonight that will count as making it up to her? Yes…No, you can’t use her ingredients…Yes, you can ask Sammy for help.” He pressed the phone against his shoulder, turning to me quickly. “Can Sammy come to dinner?”

I nodded my head enthusiastically, “Of course.”

“Yes, Sammy can come to dinner.”

When he hung up, he slid his phone into his pocket and watched as I pulled mine out, quickly adding something to the list before putting it away, and the look on his face was priceless.

When we got home, I found him behind the closed door of the bedroom, caught red-handed going through the sex list. He made it up to me by peeling off my jeans and dropping his head between my legs, apologizing profusely despite his no touch rule… twice .

Ashton and Sammy were already at my parents’ house by the time we got there. I had no idea what in the world was going on, but whatever it was, it looked good on both of them.

There was something incredibly healing for my heart to see the way my mom lit up at having so many people sitting at her dinner table, even though there was a part that ached at Abbey’s absence. Ashton’s cake was right in the center with writing on the top that said Sorry Carrie , and Sammy spent a good portion of the evening explaining to my dad who Carrie was.

“Flavor?”

“Vanilla.”

“How many attempts did it take you?”

“This was number two, and it’s mostly burned. You just can’t see it because of the icing.”

“Did Sammy help?”

“With the icing.”

“All right, apology accepted.”

Ashton did that little fist shake that tennis players did when they were kicking ass, and Sammy snorted so loudly my dad got up thinking the sound came from someone knocking on the front door. I almost peed my pants.

Just when I thought I’d calmed down, I took a sip of water, and a second wave of giggles hit me, sending my water praying right over Ashton’s piece of cake.

Fane ended up in the fetal position on the floor, wheezing until the entire table was red faced and teary eyed.

When the chaos settled, all that remained were the soft smiles that lingered on everyone’s faces, shoulders loose and tension-free. Despite its slightly questionable taste, everyone had even gone back for seconds of Ashton’s infamous Carrie cake.

When we left for the night, my mom held onto me a little longer. Squeezed a little tighter.

“All these people are here because of you, sweet girl,” she said, tucking a black, wavy strand of hair behind my ear.

“No,” I told her with a gentle shake of my head. “Just like me, they’re here because of you.”

And it was true. My parents had always been the warmest, most welcoming people. Arms open for anyone and everyone, and the better my mom got, the more willing she was to let her circle get wider again. To let people back in to sit in the glow of her laughter and warmth. Both her and my dad.

In the last couple of years, it felt like we’d reversed our roles as parent and child. I spent so much time making sure they were okay—cared for, looked after—and when things needed fixing, I fixed them.

I’d confirm appointments so my dad only needed to check the calendar on the fridge before taking her. Stock their fridge, clean their clothes, their house, their car.

When we left that evening, my mom tucked into my dad’s side, I could see the life that had seeped from them slowly creeping back into their eyes. I felt the way they both watched me, like they were silently asking if it was okay. If I could see that they might be strong enough now to take back the role of parent they’d handed to me for so long.

I kept my beaming smile in place, my hand waving out the window until they were out of view, strong for them both until the last second—before it all came flooding out.

When Fane swore under his breath and started to pull the car over, this weird, honking noise flew out of my mouth. It was the culmination of trying to inhale, saying, “No, I’m fine!” and crying, all at once.

“I don’t know what to do!” Fane’s head swiveled between the windshield and me, where I was still trying to choke out the words, “I’m fine,” without sounding like barnyard poultry.

In the end, my frantic waving, which felt very reminiscent of an uncoordinated aircraft marshaller, was enough to get us home. By the time we’d parked, my tears had dried up, and Fane looked no less terrified than he did before.

He didn’t say a word, just sat with me in the silence of his truck, his thumb moving soothingly over the back of my hand.

“They seem…” There were so many versions of that sentence running through my head I didn’t know which to go with.

““Okay?” Fane offered, his voice low and steady. I knew from my half-formed statement that he understood where my head was at. My heart too.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “Okay.”

The word felt so big, so loaded. I was trying to say a hundred things with just those two syllables. Fane nodded, understanding every unspoken word despite none of it making sense.

“You helped get them there,” he said simply, turning his hand to thread his fingers through mine.

“I didn’t—” It was a reflex to deny that I had done anything, but Fane’s grip tightened just enough to stop me.

“You did.” His tone was gentle but firm, cutting through every excuse I wanted to make. “I’m sorry you had to do it on your own.”

My throat closed up, and the tears that I thought I’d run out of started welling up again.

All of my deepest, darkest secrets were held by Fane. The man was a vault. Anything that went in stayed there, locked tight, and kept safe. I’d never found anyone who I could confess my heaviest thoughts to like I could with him. Now it was like I’d finally managed to come out of the most harrowing storm of my life, and I could finally let them all out.

“I did my best,” I admitted, my voice cracking as the words I’d been holding in for so long finally spilled out. “And now I’m just so tired.”

“I know, baby,” he said.

“I don’t want to do it anymore. Be steady. I know that sounds selfish, but I’m not built for it, I have no idea how you do it.” There were so many times in the last two years I needed Fane. Needed him to shoulder the weight from me, but I realized too that without being forced to stand on my own, I would have never believed I could’ve done it.

But I did do it, and I was damn proud of myself for it.

That’s why when I thought of Fane and the decision he’d made for both of us, I couldn’t be mad at him anymore.

“How about another compromise?” he asked.

“Okay.”

He gave me a small, reassuring smile. “When you need to be steady again, you will be. But when you don’t, when you’re tired, you can pass it to me. I’ll hold it until you’re ready for it again.”

I stared at him, his words sinking into me like sunlight on cold skin. “And when you’re tired?”

“Then you’ll be steady,” he said, his voice so sure, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “We’ll take turns, Cali. That’s how this works.”

The certainty in his voice settled something deep inside me, a part I didn’t even realize was still restless.

“Okay,” I said. A quiet promise. “Deal.”

Fane smiled softly, brushing his thumb over my knuckles. “Good.”

For a moment, the truck was quiet again, the weight of everything we’d just shared settling in. Then his lips twitched, that familiar mischievous grin sneaking in.

“What now?” I asked warily, narrowing my eyes at him.

“You’ve got cake on your face.”

I blinked. “What?”

He nodded solemnly, reaching out to trace his thumb along my jawline.

“Right…here.”

“Fane, if you—” But before I could finish, his thumb swiped something sticky off my cheek, and he held it up triumphantly, speckled with frosting.

“It’s cake,” he said, grinning like a kid.

“Oh my god,” I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

He shrugged. “It was kind of cute.”

“Cute?” I glared at him, swiping furiously at my face. “I had vanilla frosting on my face this whole time, and you didn’t think to mention it?”

“You’ve been laughing and crying all night. Honestly, it just blended in.”

“Fane!” I smacked his arm just as he opened his door and hopped out.

“Wait, wait,” he called out, just as I rounded the front and found him leaning against the truck for support. “Don’t worry, you’re still super hot. Just…maybe a little sticky.”

“Oh, you’re dead,” I growled, shoving past him toward the house.

He followed behind me, grinning from ear to ear. “So, does this mean you’re not taking something off the sex list?”

“You know what?” I shot back without turning around. “Yes. Number three.”

His groan echoed behind me as we entered the house. I headed straight for the bathroom, slamming the door in his face and muffling his dramatic pleas. But despite myself, I couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips.

* * *

When I walked out wrapped in my towel, the house was quiet. Neither Fane nor Jerry were anywhere to be found.

Slipping on a pair of sweatpants and one of Fane’s sweaters, I dried my hair just enough to head outside and went in search of them, only to find them right at the bottom of the stairs.

Picnic blankets were laid out over one another, all the pillows and blankets from our bed arranged into the coziest-looking spread I’d ever seen. Fane was on one side, and Jerry was right next to him sprawled on his back. Light snores puffed from him into the cool night air.

“Found you,” I said from the top steps. Fane turned, a small, relaxed smile on his face, warm and sleepy and patted the blankets beside him.

As soon as I settled in, Fane slid his arm under me, dragged me against him, and placed a kiss on my temple while I tucked my feet between his legs.

The night was clear, and even though the last time we’d done this had been incredible for city limits, it had nothing on this moment, right here.

“Woah,” I breathed, my hand finding its way under Fane’s shirt to press against his stomach, and a little hum purred in my throat. There was something addictive about the very specific warmth that radiated off his skin.

The words were on my tongue. Three tiny words that had honestly always belonged to him, that he’d already given me. Freely. Many times over in so many different ways since he got here, and I’d been too scared to say for so many reasons.

There was a list of things I needed to give Fane. Things that had always been his, really. I might not have been able to give him everything—not yet—but I could start here.

I took a deep breath and said, “I have something to tell you.”

“Hit me.”

“I found Jerry at that shelter off Brumble Street.”

“The one with the inflatable tube man out front?”

“Yeah. It was on my rotation. I went into that one and maybe five others every week for like two months, and then one day there he was. When I saw him, the first thing I thought was, ‘Holy bananas, you belong to Fane.’”

“What?” He tried to shift his body, and I heard his heart start to pick up from where my ear was pressed to his chest, but I gripped him, holding him still.

“The night I left.” Fane went so still beside me his chest was hardly moving. “I was confused and lost and…I wanted to come home to you, but I couldn’t. So, I just drove around for hours. When the shelter opened, I went and picked him up, and then we headed straight to Darling. Then there I was, this single, super hot chick who now owned her ex-boyfriend’s dream dog.”

Fane’s bark of laughter launched out of him, waking up Jerry again, who let us know his displeasure with an aggravated huff. “ Super hot.”

“I know, but quiet, please. This is my story.”

“Sorry,” he whispered, pulling me in closer.

“I guess what I’m saying is that he’s really always been yours.”

“You’re not joking.” He looked down at me, brows drawn in a tentative sort of hope that made me wish I’d told him this a long time ago.

“He’s mine too,” I said, smirking. “But he’s always been half yours. Just so you know.” After a beat, I added, “And I didn’t take off number three from the sex list.”

Fane groaned, rolling onto his side, pulling me back down into the blanket nest and peppering my face with kisses until I was a giggle, red faced mess and despite late hour, Fane pulled me close and yelled up into the sky, brimming full of stars of us, “ This is the best night of my whole fucking life! ”