Page 21 of The Other Side

My lips fold, reserved fury kicking me from my seat.

“What are you doing?” Brant lightly scoffs.

He’s rising from his chair in my periphery, but I’m shrugging my denim jacket on anyway. “Quite frankly, you’re acting like an asshole,” I answer, slinging my crossbody strap on.

I turn around, muffled chatter lining my path to the exit. But Brant’s voice instantly brushes my back. “Callie.”

I quickly pop my head over my shoulder just as he’s draping his coat on. Then I swing the glass door open, and my heels are hot along the small patio.

I travel to my Range Rover, and Brant’s voice echoes louder this time. “Callie!”

“I’m done talkin’ to you, Brant.” My arm stretches out to the side when I continue hollering. “I tried to be civil with you, invited you to a decent brewery, but you still want to be an absolute jerk. I’m finished talkin’.”

As soon as I round the rear of my SUV, Brant slips in front of me. He plants a palm on the frame of the car, blocking my mission entirely. “I’m not.”

I exhaust a breath, throwing my arms at my sides as I shake my head. “You didn’t want to talk to me about everything you missed while you were gone from my life. You wanted to pry for information about my relationship.” The handcuffs are off now, and my finger is stabbing up at him with intention. “You were always so damn nosey, nudging your head up my ass any chance you got.” My brows crumple as I paste my hand to my forehead. “I should’ve seen this coming. I’m an idiot!”

His jaw ticks when he inches closer. “You know what? Maybe you should ask yourself why you’re getting bent the hell out of shape whenever your engagement is a topic of discussion.”

“I’m getting bent out of shape because of you,” I snap.

He pivots his head, chucking a laugh. “We haven’t even sat down for a full drink, and I’m already gettin’ on your last nerve?”

“I guess some things never change,” I grumble, walking around him.

“Callie.”

His large arm snakes around my chest. My eyelids fall in his secure hold, and I can’t even move if I wanted to. He’s so much bigger. So much stronger than I recall, and it only reminds me of every second I’ve missed with him. Every touch I could’ve felt from him if it weren’t for that godforsaken night in June.

This.

This is what I’ve been waiting for.

But he’s a year too late.

He’s too late, Callie.

“What happened to us?” I whisper harshly. A string of bated breaths pours from my mouth, and once the valve opens, there’s no closing it. “Why didn’t you try to find me? You just stumbled upon me. You said that you would f⁠—”

“I know what I said.”

My lips part, a silent gasp evading me when I angle my chin toward him. His hazel eyes are narrowed as they skim my face. There’s a softness to them that contrasts greatly from his sturdy embrace.

“Goddammit, I moved to New York. Uprooted my entire life back in Rhode Island.” His strangled confession inflates my depleted lungs. “If I didn’t bump into you now, I would’ve found you, Callie. Maybe I didn’t want to come back into your life swinging.” His prominent Adam’s apple rolls, his next words being carefully strung together before he speaks. “Or maybe I was too fucking scared that my worst nightmare came true. You ever think of that?”

I shake my head, succumbing to honesty.

“Of course you didn’t,” he whispers, loosening his hold. “So, yeah, I guess some things never change.”

The tension in the air alleviates, and he buries his hands in his jeans pockets. His head lifts, his eyes no longer locked on me as his mouth lingers an inch away from my temple.

“You breathe fire whenever you feel like it, and all I want to do is burn.”

There’s pain etched in his hushed speech. Agony that reflects my own.

Still.

Still.