Page 82 of The Other Side

I’m turning around just as he travels to the island. He retrieves the thumb drive of the addition drawings when he replies, “What’s up?”

I lick my lips, one hand palming the counter edge. My throat constricts, and for a moment, I think I might forfeit.

But when I stare at the piece of Brant between Jesse’s fingers, my courage sprints out. “I’ve been feeling unsure lately.”

He pinches his brows, his head jerking toward me. “About what?”

“A lot of things,” I breathe, nodding through my rattled nerves. “Mainly the future.”

His dark eyes narrow, concern woven into his pupils. Then he’s resting the flash drive back on the counter. “Callie, what’s going on?”

I battle a gulp when he digs one hand in his slacks pocket. He treads closer to me, and my fingers curl tightly around the granite.

He rests one hand beside mine on the counter, his gaze jumping to my mild pout. A useless breath rolls from me, and then he finds my numb stare.

I’m stalling all the words I’ve been practicing since Brant and I started to find our way back to each other.

“Sometimes, I think maybe I jumped into an engagement too quickly,” I croak. “I’ve been feeling, I don’t know … nervous.”

“A lot of people feel nervous when they take this big of a step in their life,” he rebuttals.

I barely inhale when he cradles my chin between his thumb and forefinger. My stomach jumbles, knowing I’m stalling. Knowing I’m going to quickly exhaust ways of dancing around this.

“Yeah,” I finally whisper. His touch is overwhelming given the context, and I steer my body away to rid myself of it. I stare past the glass of the window above the sink, the silence blaring as my eyes cloud over. “I just … I’ve been thinking that maybe we should take a breather.”

“From what?”

His tone is clipped. Short and agitated. Like a jagged saw that cuts into my gut.

“From this. The engagement. I…” I pop a shoulder as I shake my head.

I can’t do it.

I can’t commit entirely.

“I-I don’t know,” I add uselessly.

In my periphery, his lower back is leaning against the counter. His arms cross just as I return my attention to him, but he angles his chin toward the ceiling. “Where is this coming from?” he asks.

I eject a breath, facing his side now. My hands meet at the waistline of my jeans, fingers tugging one another to crank out the next sentence. “I just think that we should consider pausing the engagement,” I say. “Until I have a clearer mind.”

There’s no ‘until’.

I already have a clear mind.

His lips tuck in, his eyes still directed upward as he bobs his head. “Okay,” he responds. “By pausing the engagement, you mean breaking up? Am I getting that right?”

My instinct is to reject his assumption. I’m about to shake my head, but I whip it to the window again. My eyes trap a tiny portion of my garden in the back corner, and it’s like a hit of adrenaline.

“Yes,” I offer weakly.

“I can’t hear you,” he challenges, rotating his body toward mine. “What was that?”

His assertive tone drives me to slowly face him. My throat rolls through the windstorm rumbling in my chest, and his gaze hoods.

There’s a rigidness in his jaw. It ticks like a time bomb, and I cower immediately. “I-I don’t know.”

He shakes his head, licking his lips. “No, that’s not what you said,” he counters. Then he’s jerking his chin at me. “Repeat it. I want to make sure I heard you correctly.”