Page 20 of The Wicked Love

I smirk, and the second his head turns back around, I can finally drop the act. I mean, yeah, sure, he’s a nice guy, but, like, ugh, I felt nothing, being near him.

Nothing.

I’m starting to get scared that Callum might be the only guy to ever make me feel alive. That Callum is the only one to ever make me feel … I don’t know …seen.

I walk back to Sophie, gloating, “Told you.Austinwill meet me here at seven.”

Sophie stalks past me, saying, “Don’t get too cocky, Becca. He still has to show up.”

I scoff and follow her inside, just in time to see Callum glaring at me from behind the closing elevator doors.

SEVEN

Callum

“Fuck.” I smash my palm into the wall of the elevator, feeling the pain ripple through my arm.

Who was that guy?

I mean, seriously, I thought at least after Trent, she would need a recovery period. God, this girl is resilient.

How did they meet? How long have they known each other? How close are they?

A thousand questions fly through my brain, and they each torture me more than the last.

The elevator dings, pulling me out of my mind. The doors open, and Dawson is in the hallway, walking toward me.

“Are you ever in a good mood?” He laughs.

“Nope,” I snap, but a little of my anger lifts off my shoulders.

“I see that.” He slaps my arm as he passes me, walking into the elevator as I walk out.

“Wait. Where are you going?” I turn around, needing a distraction.

He smirks and laughs before saying, “Somewhere I shouldn’t. Want to come?”

My feet are walking back into the elevator, and my head is nodding before I even say, “Yes.”

The elevator doors close, and wherever we are headed, I hope it’s far away from here.

The Uber pulls into Noland’s Bar, and I laugh to myself. I’ve known Noland my entire life, and he’s going to lose his mind, seeing me. In a good way.

The team and I used to get our booze from here in high school. The reason I know him is because he’s my uncle.

The ride here, Dawson was showing me his fake ID. But he is not going to need it.

We get out of the car and start walking up to the entrance when the door of the bar flies open.

“Callum Jones!” The big beast of my uncle walks out of the door, slamming it behind him.

We quickly close the space between us, and soon, his arms wrap around my shoulders.

I spent more time with Noland than I did my own parents, growing up. He was constantly coming to visit Gran, and over time, he became one of the only people in the world to really know me.

I step back out of his embrace. “How ya been?”

He smiles at me. “Been great, boy. Business is thriving. I had to hire some more bartenders to keep up on the weekends. We’re doing good. How are you? How’s your new team?”