Page 117 of Broken

She gives me one last kiss on the jaw, then sits up and stretches. My eyes follow the line of her spine, her hair spilling over one side of her shoulders. I can’t resist and trail my fingertips along the slight ridges of her spine.

Calli looks over her shoulder at me, giving me a small smile. Then her grin broadens. “Can I have some coffee today, please?”

“You really don’t need to ask,” I say. “Something tells me my non-caffeine influence is over.”

“Yep. I need it. There should be some of that green smoothie left over too.”

Time to move because this feels too nice. It’s disconcerting. I sit up, the blankets are pooled in both our laps. There is no stopping my eyes dipping to her naked tits. It’s not all about staring at them, or the slow hardening of her pink nipples.

The tattoo is scabbing over. It’s not the best part of the healing process. She needs to treat it right, so there are no blemishes on that perfect skin.

“I know, moisturize,” she elbows me.

Then I do something completely out of character. I lean in and cup Calli’s jaw, turning her face to mine so I can kiss her. Her soft moan against my lips and the brush of her tongue against mine thaws out a little of the darkness in my chest.

“Go get your coffee,” I say, then press one last kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I got shit to do.”

Her eye roll and slight smile aren’t hiding what’s going on. She’s feeling this too.

Pushing the covers aside, I get up, stretch with my back to her because we worked out quite a lot last night, then go on the hunt for my clothes. Calli tells me I can use the shower, but I need to leave. Get my head on straight and understand what is happening to me.

Callie grabs her robe and goes in search of coffee as I finish dressing. In the kitchen, she watches as I tug on my boots. I need to go but there is something I want to know before I do.

The letters are still on the counter. Not spread out like we left them, which means she looked them over again before straightening them up.

We watch each other across the counter separating the kitchen from the living area.

“I need to think about it,” she answers the unasked question between us.

That she isn’t rushing to pack her bags says a lot. Calli has changed since she got here. She’s seen a different way of living. The pull of her work will always be strong. If I was in her shoes, I’drunback to tattooing.

“They’ve been waiting for an answer for a while,” I say. “And they’ve not given up.”

“Do you think I should do it?”

“I can’t answer that. It’s your choice.”

“But you must have some thoughts about it.” When I don’t answer, she nods. “Okay,” she shoves the letters into a drawerand grabs her mug. “Thank you for yesterday. Your hangover cures worked miracles. And the other stuff was a bonus. Thank you.”

“Calli,” I move toward her. I fucking hate her thanking me.

She’s closing in on herself. Reverting to pleasantries because I’m a fucking dickhead. I don’t like that. And it’s fucking horrible to hear her thanking me for having sex with her. Nothing about that was to help cure a hangover. Jesus.

I swipe a hand through my hair. I’m never at a loss for words. Her beautiful cobalt eyes never leave mine. With only slight effort, I shake myself out of it.

“It should be a simple decision. That your conflicted says a lot. I’d offer my opinion but I mean it, this is your decision.”

“What if I want your opinion?” she asks quietly.

“Something I’ve learned over the course of my life is, you can’t let other people stand in the way of what you want. Sometimes we make the wrong choices, mess shit up.”

Her expression softens, she knows I’m referring to my decisions both before, and after Gwen’s death.

“You have got to think about what you want. What you really want. This life, or the one you had before.”

“I could do this building and come back.”

“You don’t believe it’s that easy, Calli.”

---