Page 179 of Stolen Voices

As I make my way to the living room, my phone buzzes on the kitchen island, where I left it next to the pink box of nut-free vanilla cupcakes I got Callie for dessert. My plan is to play with the frosting like we did with the chocolate sauce on our first date.

Lifting my phone, I swipe it open to find a text from Mason.

Mason:This time, you owe me. I had some people searching for your guy. His name is Novak. Came across him in the witch’s yearbook, then ran his information. He was kicked out of school and arrested for petty theft and drunken disorderly. The last known address for him was in Simi Valley. See if Callie recognizes him and text me back.

The first picture looks like an old yearbook photo. Bryan Novak. He looks so young in the photo. A gangly teen with brown hair and hard-looking brown eyes stares back at me. He looks like every guy you went to high school with.

The second photo is a mug shot, and it has the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. There is something familiar about him, but the connection is just out of reach as I inspect the man in the photo. The guy in this photo looks rough, beaten down by life, and angry. It was obviously taken a good ten years after the high school photo. He has tattoos on his neck, and the look in his eye has my skin prickling. He is not a good dude.

“Hey, handsome, what are you looking at?” Callie hugs me from behind, wrapping her arms around my waist. She slips her hands up my shirt and runs her fingers over my lower abs.

I’ve finally been able to help turn her mood around, and now this is going to be another blow. The last thing I want to do is ruin our dinner, and as much as I want to wait to show her the photo of this guy, I won’t be another person in her life keeping things from her.

Callie is strong, and she can handle this, my brain reminds me. This woman has survived on her own, and while I want to take care of her, I know she can take care of herself. This is one of those moments where I need to stand beside her.

Turning around in her arms, I smooth the flyaway hair off her face and drop a kiss on her forehead. “Mason sent me a photo of the guy he thinks Jenkins was talking about. This guy went to school with Silla. Based on the yearbook photo, he was a year ahead of her at school. I need you to look at the photo and tell me if you recognize him.”

She looks away, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

With a slight squeeze, I grip her shoulders, imparting my silent support. “No pressure. You can look now or after dinner. It’s up to you.”

Callie lets out a deep breath and shakes her head. “No, let’s get this over with. I want all of this to be over and for Silla to be out of my life so we can start ours.”

My fucking brave girl. I knew she would face this head-on like a badass.

“I’m really fucking proud of you, princess.” I press a kiss to her cheek. “You’re so damn strong,” I whisper, kissing her neck.

She drops her head back, giving me better access.

“Courageous.” My mouth finds hers. Using my lips and tongue, I inject everything I feel for her into our embrace.

This kiss isn’t leading to anything physical. It’s purely an expression of the deep connection we share and the overflowing love we have for one another. When we break apart, I rest my forehead against hers. Our warm pants mingle as we breathe each other in, taking solace in each other’s arms.

Reaching behind Callie, I swipe my phone off the counter. “Are you ready?”

She holds out her hand. “I’m ready.”

I pull up the yearbook photo and hand her my cell. “Do you recognize him?”

She shakes her head.

“Swipe left. The next photo is more recent. It’s a mugshot. He was arrested for some small stuff but never convicted.”

Callie swipes, and the blood from her face drains. She looks as white as a ghost. My cellphone falls from her hands and crashes to the floor. Every cell in my body screams to reach out and hold her.

I react immediately, pulling her to my chest. Her body shakes like she got tasered with a cattle prod, and painful whimpers erupt in her chest.

“Baby, talk to me. What is it?”

The picture.

Fear strikes me deep, making the organ in my chest pound painfully behind my ribcage. I lift her into my arms and place her on the counter in front of me. She’s frozen in terror, caught in a nightmare in her head.

Stepping between her legs, I wrap my arms around her body and squeeze. “I’ve got you, Callie. Just breathe.” Following my advice, I take a deep breath and place her hand over my sternum as I actively try to lower my heart rate. “Feel that? Concentrate on the beating of my heart.”

I rub her hair and back as I flatten her body to mine in a tight hug, pressing her face into my chest, until her breaths even out and her body stops trembling. Tilting her chin up, I find tears streaming down her cheeks. The sight rips my insides out. I stay silent, waiting for her to speak when she’s ready.

After a few minutes, Callie whispers, “It’s him.”