Claiming Callie: Part two (28 page)

The ball that forms in her throat can
’
t be stopped. She tries to choke
back the tears but can
’
t. No matter how many times Callie swallows, it remains, unwilling and incapable of being dislodged.

“Your parents would be really proud of you, you know. You
’
ve got your mother
’
s free spirit, beauty, and love for fashion. That, comb
ined with your father
’
s heart and his work ethic. They
’
re probably in heaven, smiling down on you right this moment. They
’
d be so proud of you, Callie.”

Oh, God. Don
’
t say that. Not that…

Mrs. Michaels meets her eyes. “No, scratch that. They
are
proud of y
ou. This, I know. Because I sure am.”

Callie squeezes her eyes closed, letting the tears fall down her cheeks, to drip onto the dress she now clutches in her hands.

She pictures her mother, what she might
’
ve looked like as she gave Callie this dress, and s
he can feel her presence around her. In the air. In this room.

Would she be proud? There are so many things Callie wouldn
’
t have wanted them to know about. The escort service. Her monstrous debt. Faking a relationship with Dean, especially to Mrs. Michaels
.

What would they say if they were here? If they were still alive?

She
’
ll never know. And that is the fact which continually disappoints her.

“Shhh…it
’
s okay,” Mrs. Michaels says, and her arms come around her. “I miss them, too. I
’
m sorry I upset you.” She
leans away from Callie for a moment to wipe away her tears. “Maybe I should
’
ve waited. I just thought… I wasn
’
t sure I was even going to give it to you until I saw you and Dean together, and then I saw how happy you looked. I wanted you to know I had this
…to know that if your thoughts start going down that road—to the future—that you knew you
’
d have a piece of them with you. But if it
’
s too much, you don
’
t need to think about that now.”

Callie presses her face against Mrs. Michaels’ shoulder. “It
’
s not too
much,” she lies, realizing the evening has been nothing but one giant tall tale.

What kind of person lies to the only family she has left?

DEAN

Dean throws his car keys onto his desk and flops back on his bed, grateful Emmett
’
s not
there. Now that he
’
s back from dinner at his parents
’
house, he needs time to think, to mull over the events of the evening. Overall, it had been a success, or at least he thought so until Callie went upstairs with his mother. Afterward, she seemed upset a
nd he would
’
ve sworn by the looks of them—their red-rimmed eyes and splotchy cheeks—that they
’
d been crying. On the way home, Callie stared out the window, saying little to him. Instead, he had to listen to Jinny
’
s one-sided conversation with Todd on the p
hone, and no matter how many times he lightly prodded for information, she revealed nothing.

He lay there, his mind drifting. It
’
s funny how things work. So many nights he had dreamt of the day Callie would be in his life, not only as a friend, but also as
his girlfriend. He pictured her coming to family dinners, much like the one they shared this evening. He imagined her laughing with his mother and Jinny, sharing jokes, and spending time together—everyone he loved all under one roof. The only difference f
rom the way things have always been is that she would go home with him at night. They would share goodnight kisses, warm embraces, and the promise of another day together. Maybe she
’
d even slip into his bed, or he in hers…

 He reaches up and touches his li
ps. If he tries, he can still feel hers there. He always knew when the day came their first kiss would be amazing. But
amazing
doesn
’
t even come close to describing what they shared tonight. He
’
s not sure there is a word to do Callie Cartwright—her lips, h
er taste, and touch—justice. Kissing her, feeling her hands in his hair, on his arms—it was like drowning and having someone throw you a life raft at the same time. It was like that first long pull of oxygen into your lungs when you finally break water.

Th
eir kiss was real. She held onto him, trembling at his touch. It wasn
’
t part of the charade. There
’
s no way they could share a kiss like that and have it be one-sided. No way.

The fact of the matter is that Callie felt something in that moment. Whether she
wanted to admit it or not.

Dean stares at the bottom of Emmett
’
s bunk, clenching his jaw, remembering what Callie said to his mother at dinner—when asked how she realized she had feelings for him.

It was like someone flicked a switch. In a room that had
once been dark, where I could only see shapes and shadows, suddenly everything turned bright, and I could see… I saw him.

The words are etched in his heart, and he can only hope there might be a grain of truth to them. The way she refused to meet his gaze.
The soft tenor of her voice…
Could she feel something for me?

If she does. Even if it
’
s a fraction of what he feels, well, it would all be worth it—this whole scheme, lying…

I won
’
t drop the ball now. Not if her eyes are just beginning to open. Once and
for all, I
’
m going to make her see me…

He just needs to do it before Maya ruins everything.

#

Dean works the early shift at Buzz, then returns to the dorm to change. He pulls on a pair of dark jeans and his navy blue Pitt hoodie, then stands in front of th
e mirror, inspecting his reflection.

What does Callie see when she looks at me?

Running a hand over his four-
day stubble
, he considers shaving, changing into something dressier, something she
’
d consider stylish and fashionable—but then, that wouldn
’
t be
him. He can clean up damn good if he needs to, but he
’
s a casual kind of guy. He may as well keep it real. After all, he wants Callie to fall for
him
, not an artificial version of himself.

He grabs a bottle of cologne out of his dresser and sprays some ove
r his body, then fingers his hair into place with some gel. He
’
s ready to go, so he grabs his wallet off his desk and pockets his car keys.

He makes the five-minute drive to Callie
’
s apartment and gives a quick knock on the door before he pushes it open an
d lets himself in. The sunny apartment welcomes him, as always. Wiping his shoes on the rug by the door, he spots Jinny making her way into the kitchen.

“
Is Callie here?
” he asks.

“Yeah.” Jinny sets the glass she
’
s holding on the counter and moves over to
him.

“How is she today? She seemed…
I don’
t know…bothered by something last night.”

Jinny glances behind her, as if checking to make sure Callie hasn
’
t appeared suddenly behind them. “I think something upset her. I
’
m pretty sure it
’
s the time of year, about
hanging with Mom, and…well, you know…”

Dean nods. Of course. The unmentionable. They don
’
t discuss the accident or her parents. It
’
s been that way the last three years. In the first year after their deaths, Callie unraveled and it seemed all anyone could
talk about. She became a shell of the version of the carefree teenager she had been when they were alive, and then suddenly, as if her grief had withered and dried, she stopped crying. She cut it off so quickly, going from broken to seemingly healed in a h
eartbeat. Only the ones closest to her knew better. They saw the ways in which she still drained her emotions. But the moment she seemed better, it was as if some unspoken pact was formed. No one spoke about the accident or her parents unless she brought i
t up, which was never.

Jinny pokes him in the arm. “What happened with you guys? I mean, how
’
s it going?” she whispers.