Page 43 of The Other Side

His jaw ticks, his Adam’s apple bobbing through a tight gulp. “You know what, Callie? Maybe you need to re-evaluate why you’re so goddamn distraught every time you’re around me.” My face tightens with fury as he inches closer. His hands hover over his chest now, an ache woven in his hazel irises. “What? Y-you wanna take me for a test drive? Compare my skills to when I was a fumbling teenager. Then he gets to be the one to cuddle you in his arms for the night? Huh? Is that what you want?”

My teeth grind, eyes narrowing as I shake my head. “That is not wha⁠—”

Brant’s head whips in rejection. “No, fuck that, Callie!” I suck a breath in, lips tucking as his gaze lights with a blaze. “Not with you.” He drops an arm between us, pointing a finger at the ground. “That is not how this works. Not with you.”

I swallow thickly, a stone trapped in my throat. “You don’t know what I want or need. Not anymore.”

“That’s just because you’re a lousy keeper of your word.”

Resentment frames his tone.

“What?” I scold.

He wags his head, more agony flooding his stare under the lamp post. “You never tried me first.”

My palms drop to the fabric of his long-sleeve shirt. They sink into his firm torso, and my eyes skate between his. “I don’t care about any of that,” I croak.

He nods, only for a perceptive gleam to flicker across his hazel irises. “But if you want it,” he says lowly, “I’ll give that to you. Don’t just go lookin’ somewhere else for all that, Callie. Try me first, okay?”

I gulp tightly, registering the fear radiating from his stare.

Understanding it.

Because I share it.

“Okay,” I breathe, tilting my chin higher so his lips can land against mine. “Always.”

“I don’t have as much money as him, but I’d empty my bank account,” he continues. “Fucking take out any loan to decorate you with all the fancy shit you desire. If that’s what you really want. It doesn’t take any amount of talent or admirable power to do that.” His fingers lift to gesture to my pear-shaped diamond studs. “Expensive jewelry. A massive house with an enormous garden. A five-star vacation. You name it, and I’d hand it over to you.”

My heart trips over a breath, chest rumbling with impending turmoil.

“But his money can never give you what you really want, and you know that. Deep down, you know it,” he challenges.

“Please just go,” I breathe. “I can’t stand here, listen to this, and trust myself at the same time.” My eyes pinch shut, a shiver wracking through me. “Please, just leave. I’m begging you, Brant. Please.”

I expect him to battle me on this, but the silence drags on and on.

It feels like a lifetime.

My skin flares with goosebumps when my shoulders are cloaked in a warm fabric. His hands gently tug the lapels of his flannel to the center of my chest, and my eyes finally welcome his.

His stubbled jaw is softened. His stare never leaves mine as he peels his hands away from me.

He stands before me in just a t-shirt, slipping his hands into his jeans pockets. “I’m gonna trail behind you to make sure you get in your car. I’ll keep my distance. If that’s what you need, I can do that for you.”

My fingers clutch the lapels of his flannel when he leans to press his soft lips to my temple. A shudder rocks my core. My belly flips over and over before my eyes follow the way he backpedals to allow me space.

I tip a faint smirk his way before steering myself along the sidewalk. My fingers bring the fabric of his shirt under my nose, and I will his woodsy cologne to mark my blood.

A single whiff, and the turmoil inside of me settles from the raging winds. And if there’s one thing I could’ve taken with me from Willowhart, I’m grateful it’s the magic.

Chapter 15

Brant

“How’s the Hampton Bays project going?”

Matt’s voice rings from the neighboring cubicle, and I lean back in my computer chair.