Page 27 of Promise Me This

“Callum?” She tugs the covers up over her chest, groggy yet aware enough to be bashful. “What are you doing here?”

In fairness, my gaze had traveled down to the outline of her breasts in her thin pajama shirt. She definitely is freezing, if the impression of her hardened nipples against the soft fabric was any indication. I force my gaze back to her face, even more mesmerized by that sight than I was by her breasts. Jesus, I need to pull myself together.

“Power’s out,” I finally manage to choke out. It sounds like I’m going through a second round of puberty. “Mam’s got a fire going downstairs, and all the other guests are warming up there.”

Her eyebrows furrow, unsatisfied. The sound of the wind is the only answer to my words, and finally I realize she’s not asking why I’m here, in this house. She’s asking why I’m here, in her room, touching her. Christ.

“Erm, I knocked.” I jab a thumb over my shoulder in the direction of the door while taking a step away from the bed. “Called your name a few times. Started to think the frostbite had gotten ya.”

She considers this for a moment before sitting up and shifting her legs to dangle over the edge. “It’s not that cold,” she says, but she grabs a sweater from the floor and shrugs into it.

Probably for the best, or I’d likely start drooling, much to our mutual embarrassment. I turn and head for the door, leading the way to warmth. And sanity. “Yeah, try telling that to my mam.”

She falls into step behind me with an agitated groan, mumbling, “I’ve got a few things I’d like to say to her.”

“You and me both,” I reply, practically falling down the stairs in an attempt to put enough distance between us.

Chapter Thirteen

Leona

For a man who just barged into my room in the middle of the night without permission, Callum is certainly in a hurry to get away from me. As soon as we step into the living room, he mutters something about going to check all the windows and then disappears without further comment.

Scattered throughout the room are our various guests, some halfway to sleep and others fully there.

Not ours, I correct myself. Siobhan’s. Getting too attached will only deepen the pain when this situation inevitably implodes. When I’m left running away once more with my tail between my legs and skin marred with the shrapnel of my poor decisions.

I brace my shoulders and draw in a deep breath, trying to let all those feelings flow out on the exhale.

The fire is roaring, its luxurious heat reaching me all the way at the threshold. The light of it dances off the spines of books lining the shelves along the wall. A young couple from London are currently drifting off in the love seat beneath the window with their child nestled between them. The memory of Siobhan shaking me awake in that same spot vies for my attention. I shake my head softly to dislodge it. She hasn’t asked any questions about my sleeplessness, and I haven’t offered answers. It’s a silent deal we’ve struck between us.

I can’t help but wonder if she’d still want to share a secret with me if she knew all the others I carry. The ones that sent me running from that market today, leaving Callum in my dust.

“Come over here, Leona. We’ve got room,” Siobhan shout-whispers, gesturing to the space at the other end of the couch closest to the fire. Niamh is curled up underneath a weathered afghan, her head resting in her grandmother’s lap.

I make my way to them, doing my best to avoid the floorboards that I’ve discovered are rather creaky, before settling into the lumpy cushions. The warmth of the fire, now just a few feet away, floods my body. For the first time since Callum woke me, I realize just how cold I was. Sometimes it takes things returning for you to understand just how much you missed them while they were gone.

“Sorry about all this,” Siobhan offers. She smooths an absent-minded hand over Niamh’s mess of curls, which are slowly unraveling from a set of braids. “Most of the country has underground power lines now, but they keep forgetting about us out here in the rural areas. Not usually a problem till we get one of these windstorms.”

I wave a hand dismissively. “It’s no problem. I’d take this over a tornado any day.”

“Would you be getting those often?” she asks, eyes wide in horror.

I shake my head. “Not too frequently where I’m from. The Midwest gets the worst of it.”

“Still, I’d say one is one too many.”

“And you’d be absolutely right.” I draw my feet up onto the sofa, tucking my knees into my oversize sweater and resting my chin on them. The honeymooning couple from Chicago are fast asleep on the chaise across from us. I check back in on the small family occupying the love seat and discover they, too, have drifted off. The only people still hanging on—two girls in their early twenties—are laid out on their stomachs on a makeshift cot in the corner of the room, scrolling through one of their phones and giggling softly.

Despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, it reminds me of sleepovers with my cousins as a child. My older brother and I would pile up on pallets our aunt had constructed on the floor, her two sons joining us for a movie night that would last into the wee hours of the morning. It was the best part of growing up so close together, having a built-in set of best friends. As we grew up and went off to college, then married—and divorced, in my case—everyone spread throughout the country and our bonds stretched thin at the seams. I make a mental note to text Brian in the morning and remind him he has a sister who loves him, even if she’s shitty at showing it.

The door creaks open, revealing a slightly out-of-breath Callum sporting two damp shoulders and blond hair turned bronze with wetness. If his expression weren’t so terse, I’d be tempted to ask why he felt the need to check the windows from the outside, but the hard set of his jaw keeps me quiet.

“Windows are all secured,” he huffs. He removes his rain-splattered glasses and lifts a corner of his maroon Henley to wipe the lenses clean, flashing a strip of golden skin and hardened muscle along his waistline. A pair of low-slung sweatpants completes the just-rolled-out-of-bed look, and I can tell by the way they hug certain attributes of his body that he neglected to wear any boxers underneath.

I look away, the heat of the fire suddenly growing so intense that my cheeks catch flame.

Siobhan studies my face for a moment before the corner of her mouth twitches. She sits up abruptly, bracing Niamh’s head with one hand as she shifts. “You know what, I’ve actually just remembered I need to check that all the cats are all right—”

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