Page 104 of Your Place or Mine

There’s something borderline tragic about tidying your apartment after kissing someone who makes your bones melt.

I’d picked up the same throw pillow three times. Re-fluffed it. Moved it to the opposite end of the loveseat. Finally threw it on the floor.

No amount of fluffing could fix the way my chest twisted every time I thought about his mouth on mine. Or the fact that I’d wanted more. Still wanted more. Or that the guilt and the knowledge that I knew things he hadn’t told me were growing roots inside my gut.

I was two seconds from diving headfirst into a pint of melting mint chip when someone knocked.

Not a gentle tap.

A sharp, quick knock that had me straightening up with a jolt.

I peeked through the peephole. Drew.

Not who I expected, especially not at… I glanced at the microwave clock.12:42.

Lunch rush.

I opened the door, brows drawn. “Drew?”

He looked… tense, not like his usual easygoing self. Something was just off about how he held himself—too rigid, jaw tight.

“Hey,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Is Callum here?”

I blinked. “What? No.”

His eyes darted over my shoulder like he half expected Callum to be standing in my kitchen eating my granola bars.

“I haven’t seen him since this morning,” I added, stepping aside so he could come in. “Why?”

“He’s not answering his phone.”

My heart dropped. “Okay… but that’s not weird, right? Isn’t he usually kind of…”

“Yeah, he’s a grump,” Drew cut in, letting the door close behind him. “But he’s not unreliable. That’s the thing. If he’s gonna duck out for a while, he tells me. Leaves a note. Texts. Something.”

That buzz of anxiety started crawling up my spine.

“Have you checked the bar?”

“Locked up. His truck’s not parked behind it, but I figured maybe he walked over here after…” He broke off, hesitating.

Afterwhat, Drew?

AfterI kissed your brother like I wanted to climb him like a tree?

I cleared my throat. “He’s definitely not here.”

Drew let out a slow breath and rubbed his face. “It’s probably nothing. But it’s not like him to go radio silent and not open the bar.”

That was what made my stomach twist.

Because Callum might’ve been all sharp edges and snapped words, but he was reliable to a fault. Predictable, even in his unpredictability. A guy who fixed his leaky pipes, replaced broken lightbulbs before anyone asked, and opened the bar five minutes early to ensure the coffee was hot.

“Did he mention anything weird this morning?” Drew asked.

“No,” I said, the memory rushing back faster than I could block it. “He was… himself.”

Complicated. Heated. Too close and too much.

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