Page 124 of Your Place or Mine

He didn’t say he wanted more.

He didn’t make promises.

But he’d stayed.

Long enough for his breathing to settle beside mine. Long enough for me to wake up for half a second at dawn, see his bare chest rising and falling, and feel like something inside me had finally exhaled.

Time to trace the edges of his ink along his arm, along his chest, feel the meaning behind each stroke.

That was enough for now.

I toweled off, twisted my hair up, and went to make coffee, ignoring the way my chest tightened at the empty apartment. I didn’t expect him to leave a note or make breakfast or even say goodbye. That wasn’t how he operated.

Still, part of me had hoped.

As I sipped coffee and watched a blue jay land on the railing outside the window, I thought about what to do next. Not just with him, but with thislifeI was building here.

Reckless River had been a wild swing, a long shot at healing, at creating something new. And somehow, it had given him to me in the process.

Callum Benedict. stubborn, inked, guarded, and unknowingly beautiful in all the ways that mattered.

But it had also given me something else.

Purpose. Roots.

I glanced at the time. Just past nine.

I’d promised Riley I’d come by the coffee shop this morning to help her move some of the shelving she wanted replaced and take a look at a possible leak near the front window. My body wasn’t exactly screaming for manual labor after last night, but I wasn’t about to flake.

Especially not after she looked at me like she knewexactlywhat kind of storm I was walking into with Callum.

I grabbed my tool bag from under the kitchen sink, threw on my boots, and headed down the street. The breeze was sharper than yesterday, crisp and cool, with the scent of damp pine and distant chimney smoke. But that was the nice thing about spring in Washington. You never quite left the last season behind. Even in the summer, the temps could drop for a day and remind you of the coziness to come in the fall.

When I reached the shop, Riley was already inside, humming along to Fleetwood Mac and balancing on a step stool with a screwdriver in hand.

She looked up as I opened the door and grinned like she’d beenwaitingfor this.

“Well, well,” she said, hopping down. “You’ve got a glow. Did you fall in love or sleep really,reallywell?”

I rolled my eyes and set the bag down. “I came for coffee, not to get grilled.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, clearly unconvinced. “I provide caffeine and charm.”

“Be gentle. I’m on edge.”

“Edge of what?”

I chuckled. “Let’s just get to work.”

We started repositioning the shelving along the back wall, which had warped over the years from too much weight and too little maintenance. As we worked, I felt my mind settle. Something about using my hands, about fixing what was crooked, made it easier to keep all the swirling thoughts from taking over.

But even as I hammered in new anchors and adjusted levels, Callum stayed with me.

The way he’d touched my face.

The way he’d held me, not possessive or desperate, but like he wasn’t used to being allowed to.

The way he’d left before sunrise, because maybe that was the only way he knew how to survive it.

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