Page 19 of Crashing into Love

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“What?” I urge when he trails off.

His fingers pause in my hair, his movements stilled for a moment. The night is truly dark now, the city silent, making it seem like we’re the only two people who exist, who matter. A shard of guilt stabs at me when I think of my mom elsewhere in the penthouse, probably sleeping deeply.

She always sleeps deeply these days, as though not wanting to face reality, her life.

“And maybe it broke something in me,” he growls. “After Mom’s death, Dad said I changed. I became colder. Less emotional. Maybe that’s why he thought I was crazy when I said I had to wait for the woman who’d make me feel, truly feel, bone deep in the way you do. Soul deep.”

Tingles radiate from my chest and fill my body and I huddle closer to him, coughing back a sob. “My dad died last year.”

His arm tightens around me. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“A car accident,” I go on, somehow finding the words when this is the first time I’ve properly spoken about it.

Mom doesn’t want to hear about it, ever, and I find it difficult to spoil my best friend Simone’s bright life with talk of such darkness.

“It was raining and he slipped on the road, and that was that. Mom – it shattered her, Conrad. I was in school for interior design. Community college. Not the greatest college in the world, but I was holding it together. I was working at a restaurant part-time and paying mom and dad rent. Dad was working his ass off at the garage and mom was working at a movie theater. None of us had amazing jobs, but it was enough to get by.”

He gives my shoulder a squeeze, leaning down and kissing the top of my head. “It’s okay.”

“After dad died, mom withdrew into herself. It was like she wasn’t even the same person anymore. She used to be so confident, so vivacious, so ready to take on the world. She used to laugh all the time. She has the most infectious laugh. But now she’s… it’s like she’s not even there. And I don’t know what to do. We had to move when she couldn’t work anymore. I had to drop out of school. But I don’t know what to do to help her, to make her feel better.”

I whimper and a sob escapes me, and then it’s not just one sob. It’s a whole freaking stream of them.

I bury my face against his chest as the tears spill out of me, the torrent erupting as all the pent-up emotion bursts free.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, sliding his fingers through my hair over and over again. “It’s okay. Let it out.”

“I feel so selfish,” I croak. “I know my mom is hurting worse than me and—”

“You never have to apologize or feel bad for being upset, Callie,” he interrupts with a growl. “Or for feeling anything. Not to me. Ever. You can always be yourself. I want you, all of you, no matter how you feel, no matter what you’re going through. Forever.”

“Forever,” I whisper, coughing back a sob. “I’ve never had a chance to talk about this. I just… I miss my dad so much, and I want to do right for my mom. I want to help her.”

“I’ll help you both,” Conrad says firmly. “I can get some recommendations for grief counselors, for both of you. You can go back to school when the semester starts in September. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

I think about the pink bundle on the door handle, the way he quickly snatched it away, the panic and possible guilt that flitted across his expression too quick for me to properly read. If it wasn’t for that, I’d be dancing around the room right now, relieved for a chance to let the pressure go for a little while.

But it weighs heavily on my mind, and I sigh.

“You don’t have to do all of that,” I whisper.

“I do, and I am,” he growls. “I’m going to take care of you. I want you to be able to follow your dreams. I want you to be happy. And for your mother to get the help she needs.”

I sniffle, shivering as I hug closer to him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to blubber all over you.”

He squeezes me harder. “Callie, I don’t want to hear the S-word every again. You have nothing to apologize for.”

I huddle closer to him, trying to find the strength within me to believe his words, to claw onto them and let them sink deep inside of me. Otherwise, I’ll blurt about the panties, calling him a liar, telling him he must be playing a trick on me.

But he just told me what happened with his mom and he swore on her. There’s no freaking way he’d do that if he didn’t mean it.


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