“What is it then?” he demanded. “Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”
Calla decided she’d leave them to sort it out. If Willa was about to declare her undying love for him, the last thing the younger girl needed was an audience.
“I’m okay,” Willa whispered.
And the last thing Calla saw before she ducked into the kitchen was Damon lacing his arms around her sister and tucking her into his chest.
“Come on.” Willa drew back and took his hand. “I want to show you the new pictures I took today.”
Most men who moved furniture for a living would have told the pint-sized blonde to give him a minute. He didn’t even have his boots off. He only just walked into the house after moving and lifting things for the last six hours in freezing cold weather. But not Damon. Willa could have asked him to build her a stairway to the moon and he would have moved heaven and earth to make it happen. Their absolute love and adoration for the other was the kind every romance junkie begged for.
Together, the pair crossed the room and disappeared down into the basement that had been converted from a toy room into Damon’s bedroom after Uncle Sloan had hired him on as a mover in his company. Calla had a suspicion part of that reason was Willa, to be closer to her, but she never said as much. She liked that her sister had someone like Damon. She liked knowing he would protect her and keep her safe. More than that, she liked that Willa had that kind of unconditional love. It didn’t even bother her anymore that it was Damon. It had for a long damn time. He had been the boy who had ruined her life at school, had made her the laughing stock and made it impossible for her to find any friends. He and Jared. She had hated them both. But like a wart, they had grown on her until one day, it was just normal to see Damon at the breakfast table. It was normal to see him huddled on the sofa with Willa. It was even normal to have Jared practically move in with them. Being Damon’s best friend, the two were as inseparable as Damon and Willa. Yet despite the tight bond the trio seemed to have, they never neglected her. Maybe that was Willa’s doing mostly, but Calla had always been dragged along to join them on their crazy and sometimes stupid adventures. She used to make a big fuss about it, but she had always secretly liked being part of their little group. There were days she still missed it, missed the simplicity of being a kid.
She missed being whole.
“Cal?” Blinking out of her thoughts, Calla turned to the voice. Her uncle stared back at her, the lines around his blue eyes crinkled with concern. “All right, sweetie?”
It took all her restraint not to walk over to him like she used to as a little girl and have him cuddle her. He may not have been her biological father, but he had always been there to chase away the bad dreams and kiss her fears away.
“Yeah, fine.” She twisted a smile over her breaking heart. “How was work?”
“Good. Fine. Just a routine move.”
Calla watched him closely while he spoke. His rugged features that had only grown more handsome over the years were weary, and slightly grimy. He’d taken to not shaving during the winters and his scruff was flecked with strands of gray that were nearly invisible amongst all the blond. He scratched them now as he stared absently at the fridge. He straightened his back, rolling his shoulders as he did so. It was a gesture she recognized as one that his back was acting up again.
“Mom’s going to kill you if you don’t make that appointment with the chiropractor again,” she warned him.
He grumbled something like, not a stupid pretzel, but it was hard to make out. Nevertheless, probably out of fear of his wife’s wrath, he marched to the fridge and yanked out the chiropractor’s card from under a strawberry magnet. He held on to it like it was the cause of all his problems. Then he shoved it into his back pocket.
“Want anything, Jar?” he asked, jerking open the fridge door and rummaging inside.
Calla noticed he didn’t bend all the way forward, but stooped with his knees bent.
Jared shook his head as Calla wandered her way toward the sink and propped a hip against the worn countertop. She didn’t peer at the man taking up so much space in the tiny room just by sitting at the worn table. But his gaze followed her. She could feel the full, hot weight of his attention like the brush of flames at an open campfire. Fear of what she would see in his eyes kept her focused on her uncle.
“No, thanks, Mr. McClain. I’m just waiting for Damon. Then I gotta get home.”
Uncle Sloan straightened and drew back with a bottle of water in hand. He shut the fridge door and turned to the other man in the room.
“Got a date with Denise?”
Jared hesitated for a split second before he nodded. “Yeah.”
Uncle Sloan unscrewed the top off the bottle and took a swig. He wiped the condensation off his mouth with the back of his hand and focused on Calla.
“What about you? Got any plans for tonight?”
Calla shook her head. “Not really. Probably going to go see how Mom’s doing at the shop, but otherwise…” She let her words trail off to nothing.
Seemingly satisfied with that, he mumbled something about taking a shower and ambled out of the room, leaving Calla alone with a man that liked to hog all the oxygen.
“How are you?”
While his question was polite and normal, it reverberated with an undercurrent she was too afraid to decipher.
“I’m okay.” She forced herself to look at him, to drink him in and ache with so much need to touch what she had no right wanting. “How are you?”
“Tired.” He offered her a lopsided grin that still filled his eyes with weary shadows. “Didn’t sleep much last night.”
It killed her to think he was with Denise, tangled and lost in her naked limbs. But she reminded herself how stupid that sounded, how stupid she sounded, even in her own head. He had offered her the option to be his. He had even spelled it out for her so there was no mistaking that he wanted her. But how could she be what he wanted when she wasn’t even who she wanted most days?
“So things are getting serious with Denise, huh?” she said at last, needing to cram her pain with words.
“No.” The rickety chair beneath him creaked beneath his large frame. “I know she wants them to be.”
“Why don’t you?” It was a stupid question. So stupid.
“You know why.” Sparks ignited behind his eyes. “But I’m fucking trying.”
There was no reason for it, but her heart picked up in tempo. Her breathing increased and she wondered if he noticed.
“You look nice together,” she lied. “I’m really happy for—”
“Don’t.”
Her chest ached under the brutal thundering of her heart slamming into her ribcage. “What?”
Gray eyes rose and found hers. The intensity behind them twisted something in the pit of her stomach.
“I don’t want you to be happy for me being with another woman, not unless that woman is you.”
“Jared…”
Calla could think of nothing to use as argument. Not because she had nothing to say, but because nothing she said would matter. It wouldn’t change anything. As hot and bothered as Jared made her, as much as she would have loved to get a taste of him in bed with those delicious arms banded around her, it would never work between them because he would give her everything and she had nothing to give in return. If Denise made him happy, then that was where he belonged, even if she was left dying inside.
He rose to his feet, taking over the entire room with the single gesture. A tremor coursed through her, making her painfully aware of the three strides separating them. He could cross that in one. He could easily move into her space. He could easily take her waist, lift her against him, and kiss her.
No! Stop it! The scared, rational part of her brain begged. He’s with someone. And that was all the reminder she needed; the fire was immediately smothered.
His low, almost taunting chuckle brought her mind back to focus. He was watching her with something like irony.<
br />
“How do you do that?”
“What?”
“Look at me like I’m the only thing keeping you alive and still manage to walk away.” He shook his head slowly. “I look at you and I feel like my soul is breaking and I can’t even function through the pain.”
His words punched her in the chest.
“Stop.” It wasn’t even said. The single word was a mute movement of her mouth.
He sighed and shook his head. “Maybe I’m a masochist, or out of my mind, to love a woman who wants nothing to do with me.”
He had no idea how wrong he was. She loved him with a desperation that kept her up at night. But it was because she loved him that she needed to protect him.
“I need to go.”
Damon walked into the room before she could escape. Willa was pressed into his side, her arm laced through his, her head pillowed on his shoulder. She was laughing at something he was murmuring into the top of her head and Calla wondered if maybe she had finally told him.
“Sorry,” Willa said to Jared, grimacing sheepishly. “I know you guys had things to do, but I got carried away showing him my new shots.”
“I swear they just keep getting better each time,” Damon piped in; the pride and amazement in his voice rang like a bell. “They’re incredible.”
Willa flushed and bumped him playfully with her hip. “You always say that.”
“’Cause I always mean it.”
When Willa finished high school and announced she wanted to take photojournalism and Fine art photography in university, no one was surprised. Like their mother, she had the eye and talent for seeing things no one else saw through a camera lens. A talent Calla did not share. Her love lay in fashion, in the creation of taking something ugly and making it beautiful. She loved matching clothes with accessories. She loved dressing people. It was why she co-owned Libellule, a classy boutique offering the tiny town of Willow Creek more than overalls and floral printed dresses. It was Calla’s baby. It was all she had left after everything had been torn away from her. Her entire heart and soul had gone into building and running her tiny empire. Albeit it would never have happened if her mother and Beth hadn’t offered to co-sign with her. In return, Calla had offered her mother one half of the shop for a studio, somewhere families could get their portraits done.
Occasionally, Beth helped, but they never forced her to. She kept her position as nurse at the hospital and worked insane hours. She took a year off to stay home with Toby after he was born, but went back to work once he was old enough to be put into daycare. She was more of the silent partner than an actual participant. Plus, she wasn’t all that into fashion, or photography.
“I’ll leave those things to the professionals,” she always teased.
Once a month, they had a meeting to discuss how things were progressing and if anything needed to be changed. Beth usually didn’t have much to say, but she did what she could. Willa helped when she was home, but mostly in the studio part. Her photos were hung on the walls next to their mother’s and the contrast was always astounding on that side of the room.
Their mother liked scenery and abstract while Willa liked portraits, mostly of people. She had an eye for capturing the essence of the person, the true soul inside. Calla remembered the Christmas Damon got Willa her first camera. That same Christmas, their mother had gotten Willa a camera as well, but Calla suspected that was only to keep Willa away from her expensive equipment. Willa had kept them both and used both frequently. Each year since, Damon added something new to her tools, as she called it. A lens. A bag. A tripod. It sucked for the rest of them, because that limited the number of things they could get Willa that she would actually like.
“It’s fine,” Jared told Willa. “I have to run anyway. We can get it done tomorrow.”
Damon frowned. “You sure?”
With a nod, Jared started for the door. “Text me later.”
Calla hesitated a second, knowing he would be there and there would be very little room in the foyer for both of them. She wondered if she should just wait until he was gone. It certainly seemed like the better idea then being confined in tight quarters with him.
Yet her feet drove her forward. She left the kitchen, crossed the living room and stopped at the narrow opening that gave a sharp turn down a tiny hall to the front door. Jared was drawing his boots on, his back to her as he bent forward. Her gaze was inadvertently drawn down to the taut curve of his bum pressing against the fabric of his jeans and she bottled back a sigh. Her body warmed just at the sight of it. Her hands twitched with the urge to skim over the hard lines of his back, to tuck downward and cradle him in her palms.
Calla had never taken herself as an ass person, but fuck she loved his.
“Am I in your way?”
Flinching at nearly being caught, she darted her gaze upward, hoping he hadn’t noticed. His head was still turned away from her as he did up his laces.
“No, it’s fine.”
Saying nothing, he straightened. The floorboard creaked beneath his weight as he faced her. Gray eyes bore into hers and she wondered if he could see her blush. Gingerly, he unhooked her coat off the wall and shook it open for her. The gesture momentarily surprised her before she caught herself. Her insides fluttered with nerves and an anticipation she knew was wrong. Her hand trembled as she pushed it through the sleeve. Following the motion, she turned her body and hooked her other arm through the second sleeve. The material was settled gently on her shoulders by hands that stayed like hot weights. His front brushed her back and she felt it all throughout her body. Long fingers hooked her hair and freed the blonde strands from the collar. They skimmed her neck and Calla shuddered as a flood of heat rushed to her core from the simple and innocent caress. In the silence, her choked gasp echoed like a scream.
“Jesus, Calla.” The husky growl burned the crown of her head where his mouth grazed. “Why are you doing this to me?”
Aroused, lightheaded, and disgusted with herself, Calla tried to edge away, but there was only so far she could go without coming up against him. In the end, all she could do was turn and corner herself with her back against the wall and face the wolf looming over her.
His eyes were hard chips of flint. His face was set in a dark, almost hungry line that made her insides quiver. Her heart cracked in sharp claps that seemed to resonate helplessly between them.
“Denise…”
The other woman’s name burst from her lips like she was throwing up a shield. It was meant more as a reminder to herself than to him that he was taken and off-limits. But it seemed to work for both of them.
He straightened and released her from his scrutiny. His nostrils flared once as he sucked in a breath. Calla watched him try and pull himself together and something dawned on her, something that washed away the hot river of lust pounding through her.
“Would you?” she asked.
His gaze dropped down from the spot just above her head to fix on hers. “Would I what?”
“Kiss me.” She searched his eyes. “Touch me.” It was a dangerous game she was playing and the spark behind his stare warned her to stop, but she had to know. “If I asked you right now to take me back to your place, would you?”
“What are you doing?” he half growled, half hissed.
“I want … I need to know.”
His shoulders lifted, expanding his chest with his sharp inhale. A muscle coiled in his jaw. Against his sides, his fingers bunched.
“No.” His gaze never wavered from hers. “I wouldn’t.”
“Why?”
He pushed away from her, giving her a chance to finally breathe and slumped against the wall opposite her.
“Because as much as I want you, and God knows how much I fucking want you, I wasn’t raised like that. Denise might not be the woman my heart belongs to, but I wouldn’t disrespect her.”
His answer wound around her heart like a velvet robe and squeezed.
“Will you ever love her?”
<
br /> His gaze dropped to the floor between them. “No.”
As much as his confession relieved her, it hurt to hear him say it.
“Then why are you with her?”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “Because I need to try.” He lifted his face and peered at her with eyes that cut into her very soul. “I would wait forever for you if you tell me there’s even a small chance, but you told me there wasn’t and I need to try and see if I can ever love someone else the way I love you.”
Without giving her a chance to catch her breath, or calm the rampage of her heart, he reached for the doorknob and wrenched it sharply. The door opened under his grip and swung inward. A sharp sheet of bright light spilled into the corridor. Calla expected him to charge through and leave her. Instead, he held it open and motioned her out first.
Dusk was setting in across the snow blanketed fields straining for miles. The world was a faint blush of light that glimmered faintly like some magical kingdom. Calla remembered all the times she and Willa had played fairy princesses in the snow, twirling around and pretending the falling snowflakes were fairy dust. Jared and Damon would watch from the front steps, never interacting, but always close enough to be forced into playing. Jared would always get nominated as the villain and Damon would be the poor, kidnapped prince that needed rescuing. He’d hated it, but Willa would ask and he would submit and let himself get captured and imprisoned. It had always been Calla’s favorite game.
“What?”
She hadn’t realized she’d been grinning until she found Jared watching her with a wary frown.
She chuckled. “Nothing.”
He looked like he wanted to press, but seemed to think better of it.
“Are you going to be okay driving into town?” he asked instead.
Ice cracked beneath their feet as they descended the front steps. Calla kept a firm grasp on the iron railing as she maneuvered to the bottom without breaking an ankle.
Calla eyed her little blue Volkswagen Beetle and shrugged. “I think so.”
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