Page 68 of Backed By You
Callie walks beside me, her sandals dangling from one hand, a frozen yogurt cup in the other. After the meeting with her father and an afternoon of final preparations for tomorrow’s premiere, she suggested we go for a walk with a smile that made it impossible to say no to her.
She led the way to a small stretch of beach accessed through a narrow path between two private properties. “It’s my old film professor’s house,” she explained as we squeezed through. “He lets former students use his beach access. Much quieter than the public beaches.”
Apart from a couple walking a dog in the distance, we have the shore to ourselves. The sand is still warm beneath my bare feet despite the setting sun, and the gentle rhythm of waves provides a soothing soundtrack. It’s a sound one could get used to.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Callie asks, spooning the last of her strawberry frozen yogurt into her mouth.
“Noting the differences,” I reply, finishing my vanilla yogurt with a swirl of caramel. “Between here and home.”
Her eyes soften at the wordhome. “Good or bad?” she asks, tossing her empty cup into a nearby trash can.
“Just different,” I say, disposing of mine as well. “The sunset here is…soft. Back home, it’s sharper, more defined by the mountains.”
She nods, understanding what I’m trying to say better than I do myself. “I miss that clarity sometimes. Everything here has a haze to it—the air, the light, even the conversations.”
We walk in comfortable silence for a while, close enough that our arms brush occasionally. The receding tide has left the sand wet and firm, easier to walk on than the loose, dry sand higher up.
“How was your talk with my dad?” she finally asks, the question I’ve been expecting since we left the hotel.
“Good,” I grunt. “He’s protective of you.”
She rolls her eyes. “Did he threaten you?”
“Didn’t have to.” I smile to show I’m not bothered. “He cares about you. I respect that.”
“What did you talk about?”
“You, mostly.” I take her hand as we navigate around a piece of driftwood. “The cabin. Your mom a little bit.”
She stares at me in surprise. “He talked about my mom?”
“Said she would have liked me,” I tell her, watching her reaction. “Said you’re a lot like her.”
Her eyes grow misty, and she looks toward the ocean. “He never says that.”
I squeeze her hand gently. “He also made it clear that if I hurt you, they’ll never find my body.”
That gets a laugh from her. “And what did you tell him?”
“That I have no intention of hurting you.” I pause, wondering if this is the moment. It feels right, with the sunset casting golden light across her face, the waves providing a steady rhythm that no longer matches my heartbeat. “Ever.”
She stops walking and faces me, her expression open and curious. “You sound pretty sure about that.”
“I am.” I tuck a wild, honey-colored curl behind her ear, marveling at how the sunset makes her skin glow. “More sure than I’ve been about anything in a long time.”
Her breath catches. “Beau…”
“I love you, Callie,” I say, voice low. My chest expands at how natural it feels to be telling her how I feel. Emotions, feelings—the whole lot of it is something I never saw the appeal in. Though I can’t say I’ve felt this way about anyone before. She’s the first woman I’ve said those three words to. “I know it hasn’t been long, but it’s the truth.”
For a moment, she just stares at me, and I wonder if I’ve miscalculated, moved too fast.
Her face breaks into the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. “I love you, too,” she whispers, rising on her tiptoes to press her lips to mine.
The kiss is soft, tender, tasting of strawberries and salt. When we part, her eyes are shining. I hold her close and keep her there against my chest, breathing in the scent of her mixed with ocean air. Beside us, the sun continues its descent, casting our shadows across the sand.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” she mumbles into me, her face turned to the setting sun.
I hum, my gaze cast over her head at the very same view. I place a kiss in her hair. “Shoot.”
