Page 46 of Second Sets Omnibus

“Yeah,” I whisper, swallowing the lump in my throat. “It’s not much, but this is my room.” I gesture for him to come in, and he nods, waltzing into my room with his hands in his pockets.

A heavenly smile graces his soft face. “I think it’s perfect.”

I huff a quiet laugh, shut the sliding glass door, and fix the blinds so it won’t disturb us when the sun rises. There’s nothing perfect about my tiny room, only housing my bed and a small standing dresser with my few pieces of jewelry sitting on top. There’s no TV, only my stars—it’s just my space I sleep in and nothing more.

“Any plans today?” I ask, raising a brow when he meanders to the opposite side of my queen-sized bed and shakes his head.

“Only this,” he whispers, planting his ass on the edge of my bed and removing his socks and shoes. “Do you mind if I take off my shirt and pants? I-I can keep-keep them on if-if you want me to.”

I smile as his nerves get the best of him, and his eyes fall to the worn-out carpet, not meeting my stare. Even with the darkness of my room, a red tint takes over his cheeks. Callum’s presence, I realize, is disarming in a way. He’s taking down the walls I’ve carefully erected over the years as a defense—brick by brick.

“As long as you don’t mind that I’m not wearing panties under this long shirt,” I murmur, climbing into my side of the bed.

His gaze jerks to my bare legs, working up them with a shuddering breath until he meets my gaze. Through the dark, I see the dilation of eyes and more red-tinted cheeks.

“Maybe I should keep my clothes on,” he quips with trembling fingers, working his shirt up several times before he finally pulls it over his head and throws it aside.

My breath halts at the multitude of tattoos lining his chest and sides, covering what looks like deep scars running across Callum’s body. You’d never guess what lies beneath his shirt, especially not this. Without thinking, I run the tips of my fingers across the deep scars that, to the naked eye, would be hiddenunder the array of colorful tattoos. But I see the wounds like I try to see everything else on him.

Callum doesn’t flinch when I trace them toward his chest, only stopping me when I get near his nipple.

“You can ask,” he whispers, leaning back on the bed with his jeans intact. A distinct dick imprint pushes at the material, letting me know he’s keeping himself in check by keeping the pants on.

“Only if you want to tell it,” I say, leaning my head on my hand.

Callum’s expression doesn’t change, but I see the ghosts haunting him through his glazed-over eyes. “As long-long as you keep touch-touching me.” He swallows hard, clamping his eyes shut. His hand squeezes over mine, holding it hostage on his chest.

“Odd request, Cal. But sure, I’ll keep touching you,” I quip, trying to lighten the mood for him.

I succeed when a soft smile tugs at his lips, but the haunted look remains.

“It was almost two years ago,” he whispers, shivering like the memories are coming back in full picture. “I was in a plane crash. My parents and my little sister Jenny… they-they died-died beside me.” I swallow hard, lean into him, and hug him with all my might. “The only thing I have left of them is my house, everything inside it, and the trust they left in my name for bills.”

“I’m sure you hear this all the time, but I’m so sorry you went through that. I can’t imagine the pain…” my words trail off when he nods.

“There was nothing I could do. I severely broke my leg from the impact. My little sister crawled on top of me, told me she loved me, and then passed away in my arms. Ever since… Without music, I can’t keep the nightmares from taking over.” Realization hits me like a truck, and I note all the times he hadhis earbuds in, seeming to ignore the world around him. But it wasn’t because he was rude. It was to drown out the ghosts trying to haunt him. He looks at me, curling a piece of my long hair behind my ear. “Since the accident, only one thing has kept me sane. Until today, though, I’ve discovered there are now two things that chase away the monsters haunting my mind and grant me peace.”

“Yeah?” I whisper as he leans in close, bumping his nose against mine.

“Yeah,” he confirms, brushing his lips against mine and holding my body close. “You,” he whispers with a shaky breath, breaking me with his confession. “And music.”

My heart drops into my stomach when he swoops in and steals the breath from my lungs with lazy kisses. His tongue prods at the seam of my lips, and I grant him access, moaning into his mouth when he rocks against me. Pulling back, a sparkle reignites in his eyes, and life seems to reinflate inside him.

“Now, can I ask you a question?” he whispers, keeping me close when I pull the sheet up, covering us together. His confession weighs on my mind, but I nod, snuggling into him. Despite what I’ve felt before, this is the most comfortable I’ve been with another human being in almost four years. Since…

“Why were you so afraid of the guy at the bar? Bradley?” I quirk a brow at his bold question, searching his eyes when my heart picks up speed.

“How did you…?” I shake my head when he nods in confirmation.

“I tend to notice things others don’t. You froze when he called you those awful names and slammed into you. The vein in your neck pumped double time, and your nostrils flared. But the paleness that took over your face really solidified what was wrong.” For the first time since interacting with the quietest member of Whispered Words, he keeps eye contact and staysconfident with his speech. It’s like he’s evaluated the entire situation and knows exactly what happened four years ago.

Heat brews beneath my skin, and I shake my head. “It’s nothing….”

“It’s something,” he whispers. “But I won’t pry into your personal matters. I respect you, River. And… I kinda like-like you-you.” With a deep breath, he closes his eyes. “I don’t want you to talk about anything you don’t want to.”

I close my eyes, leaning my head on his chest. The deep, thunderous pound of his heart echoes in my ear, soothing all the fear inside me. Maybe Callum and I have a weird connection, after all. If I soothe his nightmares and he seems to pacify the anxiety always begging to ruin my life, we’re meant for each other in some fucked up way.

“Four years ago, I went to a party when I was fifteen. That night, after seeing someone who I thought would recognize me?—”