Page 89 of You Shouldn't Have Come Here

“Dinner was delicious,” I said.

Calvin sat across from me, winding his spaghetti noodles around his fork. He ate slower than I did—purposefully, I assumed. He was trying to savor every moment he had left with me. I was just trying to get through dinner so all of this could be behind me come morning. I wasn’t interested in getting any closer to Calvin. I’d gotten close enough, maybe almost too close.

“Thank you. I’m glad you liked it.” His smile was beaming. He twisted up another fork of tangled noodles and stabbed a meatball with force.

“I’m sorry to bring this up again.” I eyed Calvin cautiously. “What do the police think happened to Albert?”

He set his fork down and scratched the back of his head. “They think he was drunk, stumbled down there, and well, it was an accident.”

I raised my brow. “But he was allergic to bees. Why would he go back there?”

Calvin leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “How’d you know that?”

“I saw his medical bracelet and asked him about it. He told me he was basically allergic to everything.” I leaned back in my chair, matching his posture.

“He was.” Calvin shook his head. “Something like this was bound to eventually happen.”

I swallowed hard. It was a strange thing for Calvin to say.

“Don’t you think it’s odd he went back by the bees?”

He wiped at his eyes. I didn’t understand why he kept wiping them; they were dry. Had been all day.

“It was dark out. He was drinking. Probably got turned around.”

Turned around? On a ranch he was clearly very familiar with? That picture of him, Calvin, and Joe was more than a decade old. I considered prying more but decided to play it safe and just agree with him.

“You’re probably right. It’s just such a shame,” I said, delivering a sympathetic glance.

Calvin nodded. “It really is.” He didn’t break eye contact. But he wasn’t really looking at me anymore. He was studying me.

“Do you need help cleaning up?” I knew it was time to put an end to this night.

He brushed my offer away with a double flick of his wrist. “Oh no. I got it.”

I gave a small smile and tried to make my eyes appear big and puppy-like. “Mind if I head to bed? I’ve got a big day of traveling tomorrow.”

Calvin coughed. There was a sadness in his eyes along with tinges of anger, frustration, and fear—all mixed into a perfect recipe of what, I presumed would be, a disaster. I nearly flinched waiting for his reply. Instead, I raised my shoulders and my chin. I had learned confidence was the best armor.

“Yeah, of course,” he finally said.

I stood from my chair and inched away from the table. “Thanks for everything. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He gave a slight nod. “Good night, Grace.”

“Good night, Calvin.”

I smiled and headed toward my bedroom. Right as I reached the long, dark hallway, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It whipped me around with so much force that I didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. Calvin’s lips were on mine, and they were hungry, as if he hadn’t eaten enough at dinner. His hands ran up and down my back. His tongue pried open my mouth and forced its way in. His lips and tongue were wet and sloppy, not like I had experienced before.

I put my hands on his shoulders and shoved him. He stumbled backward, immediately lowering his head. I closed my eyes for a brief second and inhaled. The breath got caught in my lungs, and I held it there. Maybe it would never escape. Maybe that breath of air would always be there, like a pain just beneath my ribs that I couldn’t get rid of—one that would always remind me of this moment with Calvin.

“I’m sorry. I can’t,” I said.

He scratched at his forehead.

“I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Calvin took a deep breath that sounded more like a grunt.

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