And absolutely none of them included kissing the grumpiest man in Reckless River before 9 a.m.
“You’re an idiot,” I muttered, dragging a hand through my hair.
This wasn’t just messy.
It was dangerously close to emotional quicksand. Because I couldn’t stop thinking about what Riley told me. About Lucy. About his dad. About the kind of loss that steals your breath and rearranges your bones to a constant ache.
And he hadn’t said a word about it.
Not even a hint.
Which… okay. It wasn’t like I expected him to pour his soul out in the middle of a barstool makeout session. But still.
He kissed me like I was oxygen.
Like I could bring him back to life.
And I let him.
I wanted to.
But now I couldn’t shake the guilt curling in my stomach like smoke.
Because he didn’t knowI knew.
I had the inside story. The chapter he hadn’t given me permission to read.
And the longer I sat here, the worse it felt.
He thought I was walking in blind, just another outsider meddling with his sacred space. But I knew what he was guarding. I knew what those bricks were made of.
And I still let myself want him.
I curled my fingers into the blanket beside me.
It wasn’t just the kiss.
It washim.
The way he looked at me when I challenged him. The way his voice dropped when he saidtempting.The way he came alive when we were toe-to-toe, fire against fire, no holding back.
Every part of him—gruff, guarded, wrecked—was stitched together with the kind of scars I recognized.
Not because I saw them.
But because Ifeltthem.
I knew what it meant to lose something that grounded you. To wake up every morning wondering how to keep going when the person you needed most was just… gone.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Mom would’ve told me to be careful.
Not with him. With myself.
Because once I let someone in,reallyin, I didn’t know how to back out again. I didn’t love halfway. I didn’t forget easily. And if I let Callum Benedict into that part of me that was still stitched together with grief, grit, and hope?
He could ruin me.