Page 112 of Love Me Stalk Me
"He was one ofthose old-school, traditional retail guys. The kind who thought women should be sales associates, not in management. He kept stuff from me on purpose."
Callahan’s expression darkens. "You deserved better than that."
I blink at him, caught off guard by how serious he sounds.
"I'm serious, Izzy," he says, leaning in slightly. "You're good at this. You belong in this position."
And the way Callahan says it—like it's not even a question, like it's a fact, like I'd have to be insane to doubt it—hits me in a way I wasn't expecting.
"I'm just afraid of failing," I admit, voice quieter.
"You won't," he says immediately.
I let out a shaky breath, rubbing my thumb over my knee. "I just—I put so much into this job. If I screw up, it's not just me that suffers. It's the whole store. It's the employees who rely on me. It's?—"
"It's pressure," he finishes, watching me carefully.
I nod. "Yeah."
He falls silent, watching me closely, as if he’s trying to understand how much I’m holding together. Then, slowly, he exhales.
"Do you trust me?"
I freeze.
Because the way he says it—like it's a real question that actually matters—hits somewhere deep and unsteady inside of me. I lick my lips, shifting slightly on the bed. "I?—"
His eyes hold mine, demanding honesty.
"Yes or no, Izzy."
I swallow, the question sinking into me.
And then, quietly, truthfully?—
"Yes."
"Good," he says.
I frown slightly, uncertain. "Why?"
"Because," he says, leaning in just enough to steal the air from my lungs, "if you trust me, then you’ll trust me when I tell you that I’ll be there with you and I won’t let you fail.”
"Thank you," I say, softly, because what else am I supposed to say? The words feel too small, too fragile, compared to the enormity of his promise.
Then he leans back slightly, his expression shifting.
"So," he says, his words light to break the tension. "Are we done panicking, or do I need to find a paper bag for you to breathe into?"
I snort, rolling my eyes. "Shut up."
His smirk grows. "That's a yes."
I exhale, shaking my head. "Okay, I think that's enough Christmas PTSD bonding for one morning."
Callahan lifts an eyebrow, amusement tugging at his mouth. "Oh, we're calling it bonding now?"
I roll my eyes. "Trauma bonding, then."
