The feeling of missing Leah hit me hardest later that night. I felt so alone; it was crippling how much.
She had been my only friend, and I'd not felt what it was like not having her by my side until now. I wondered how she was doing, if she believed I had tried to kill Alexander, and worst, I feared if she felt betrayed that I had left her without a word of goodbye.
I hated nights like these, ones where I couldn't sleep, and the night’s silence was so deafening it gave way for my thoughts to be loud enough to reverberate in my eardrums. Despite the sweater I wrapped around myself, I was still shivering. I wouldn't cry. I’d promised myself I was stronger than that, and I could survive on my own. I didn't know how to do any of that, but I was going to try, and I was going to die trying. I was done. I was exhausted, and I was finally done being seen as someone weak enough to be tossed from person to person.
It was the primary thought that had been running through my head since when I left Radley; what was it about me that pulled in people that enjoyed abusing me? There had to be something, and I was going to figure out what it was and get rid of it, but for now, there would be no more tears. Enough had been shed already.
I was no longer going to give anyone the satisfaction of hurting me with their words and actions, and for that reason, I blocked all thoughts of Callan. He didn't want to see me, and there was no use thinking about him.
If only it were that easy.
A knock on my door jolted me from my thoughts, so with a small sigh, I got up from the couch and went toward the door, and just as I reached it, my breath hitched, a strange sensation running through me, and I could feel my body’s recognition at the identity of the person at the other side of the door.
Mustering the courage to, I rubbed my palms on the side of my dress before pulling at the doorknob, and it was only when my eyes met his did I finally believe it. He really was here.
“Hey,” he said, his voice sounding deeper, reminding me of how much I’d missed the sound of it.
Despite my anger at him, in his presence, I found it dwindling as my eyes ran over him.
“Are you okay?” The last I’d seen of him, we were both engaged in a fight with rogues, and I had not much memory left of that day.
I had a lot of questions, one being how I managed to shift into my wolf so easily.
Callan ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling it and strands of it falling over his face. I noticed for the first time how exhausted he looked. His eyes were tired and red-rimmed, slight eye bags had formed underneath them.
“I’m fine, how are you? I'm sorry I haven't been able to come earlier. I got busy.”
There was something else about him, something distant, and I could just feel that something was wrong, and so I did something I shouldn't have — I stepped aside.
“Do you want to come in?”
It was only after the words had escaped my mouth did I realize their impact. I could feel my cheeks heat up, and when a look of uncertainty crossed his features, I would have done anything to take back my words.
Embarrassment bit into my skin, piercing through me, and it was all I could do not to shut the door and lock myself in the room for the rest of my life.
“Sure,” Callan said, walking past me inside.
My head snapped towards him in surprise. “Oh,” I managed out, shutting the door.
He was seated already on the lone couch in the room, so I settled myself on the bed, keeping distance between us, even though I couldn't stop my heartbeat from accelerating at his presence or my eyes from trailing to him as though trying to memorize his features.
I wondered if he felt the same. Did my presence affect him as his did me? Was he constantly this aware of me, or were these feelings one-sided, seeing as he was betrothed to someone else? The thought that Callan probably helped me out of some duty-bound reason and not for the reasons I’d have liked was enough to leave a putrid taste in my mouth. I could feel the remnants of my dinner make their way back to my throat.
“Do you like it here?” he asked gently, giving me a small smile that I could tell didn't reach his eyes.
“What is wrong?” I asked instead. He looked up at me with a surprise in his eyes. It was immediately replaced with a look I couldn't discern, one filled with so much intensity. He held my gaze, and even when I wanted to look away, I found it the hardest thing to do, so I stayed still, barely breathing, afraid that if I did, I would break whatever this moment was.
“You have no idea how badly I needed to see you,” he murmured under his breath, turning away from me.
His words caught me by surprise, sending a wave of eruption in the lower part of my stomach. We weren't doing anything, but still, I could taste the wrongness in the air, the same air that was thick with tension, unspoken words passing through it with our eyes.
I wanted to say so much, and yet, I didn't want to say a word. It made no sense. I wanted to be closer to him, and in the same breath, I wished I was the farthest from him.
It eluded me what these feelings were, and I had no idea how to make sense of them. I wondered if he could.
“We shouldn't be doing this,” I said in a small voice. Amelia might not like me, and for good reason, but she didn't deserve this.
“Doing what?” he asked, leaning forward, his eyes returning to me. They held so much pain, and I wished I could take it away.
I knew next to nothing about this man, and yet my body was reacting like this to him, wanting to bury itself in him, have his arms wrapped around me, and I wanted to cup his face in my hands and pull him close until…
I stopped my train of thoughts abruptly, realizing what I had been thinking, but it was too late because, from the way Callan was watching me, it was almost as if… almost as if he could tell.
“I can’t help myself either,” he said breaking eye contact to run his hand over his hair.
He stood up. “Coming in here was a mistake.” He made to head toward the door, and I had no idea what possessed me to jump down from the bed, and in a few strides, I found myself in front of him.
“No, don't go,” I said with a plea in my voice.
‘It must be the night,’ I told myself. There was something about dark, cold nights to heighten one’s feeling of loneliness and have them drunk on the scent of another, and right now, I wanted to snuggle into him and let his scent cloud all other reasonable thoughts.
Tomorrow, I would be reasonable, but tonight, I wanted to give into my emotions and my body’s craving to make contact with Callan so bad.
His voice sounded pained. “Sophia,” he called my name softly.
I looked up at him. “I don't know what this feeling is,” I said genuinely. It was nothing like I’d ever felt in a man’s presence before, and it was strong. I could feel my logical side fighting against it and failing woefully. “And I’m not sure I want to waste my time not acting on it.”
One of his hands came to wrap around my waist. The contact was like fire igniting, sending flames all through me. I desired to die and live in this moment forever.
“I shouldn't be doing this, but I can't stop, so please, Sophia, tell me to.” His eyes were laden with longing, and his voice held a strong, pleading note. He was struggling too, even more than I was, and it was worse for him because, unlike me, he had something to lose.
It was hard, the hardest thing I’d ever had to do, but I found myself doing it. My hand went to his on my waist, and slowly, I pulled it away.
“Goodnight, Callan,” I said quietly.