Calliope's ex-boyfriend, her high school sweetheart, crash-landed back into her life like a rom-com sequel she never ordered, ready to rewrite the script of her existence once again.
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"You...
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"Calliope!"
Fuck me.
I'm chasing the woman I've been in love with ever since I can remember. Something I should've done a long time ago, and even though I'm trying to remain unfazed, I have no idea what to do. No idea what to say. Judging by the look on her face before she took flight, she's already panicking enough for the both of us. But here I am, not expecting her to be the first person I'd run into tonight. The reunion is the least of my worries, especially if I'm dead.
I have no doubt she'll probably kill me. Heels make one hell of a weapon. I've seen it all before. More than I'd like to admit.
Contributing to my own death, I yank the door open and expect her to be halfway to New fucking Mexico by now, but she's only at the bottom of the steps. She's sitting there, her head bowed toward her lap. Only, as I make my way down the steps, my shoes are a dead giveaway. I keep one step between us, hovering behind her. Her body tenses, but she doesn't look back.
She sniffs, lifting her head to brush her shaky fingers over her cheeks. "For years, I've wanted this to happen. I figured I'd yell at you, hit you, and maybe even kill you, but it's not worth it. You are not worth it because I was not worth it for you. So, when I turn around, I want you gone."
Not worth it for me? Bullshit. Fucking bullshit. Of course, I can't get mad because she doesn't know that, but I went through hell trying to get her to be mine. We were supposed to stay friends, but it wasn't enough for me. I knew I had to have her the moment I saw her, and nothing has changed. I've had my fair share of one-night stands, but everything always came back to her.
Sounds obsessive as shit, but I don't make the rules for this stuff. When you know who you want to marry, that doesn't just go away. She has every right to take her anger out on me, but she doesn't. Oddly enough, she seems calm, but that's just who she is. Too caring.
Walking on eggshells here, literally, I ask, "Can you just give me five minutes, Cal?"
She knows me. Well, she did. Five minutes means twenty. And twenty means forgive me. Hell, in a perfect world. I know that's not happening. It's not like I went to the military and had no choice to leave. No tours under my belt, just the stupid reason of having the Harrison last name.
I can hear the unevenness in her breath as she tries to regain her composure. The sound of her strained voice and the movement of her hands are dead giveaways that she's crying because of me. Hurting all over again because I can't turn around and leave her be.
"For what, Chase?" she whispers, her voice filled with so much rage. I don't need her to raise her voice to sense it. Fleetingly, she glances back at me, her eyes bloodshot, brimming with tears, and just that quickly, she's back to looking off into the distance. "You think you can come back and demand to talk like nothing has happened? It's been ten years. Meaning, there's nothing to fucking talk about anymore."
