Page 117 of Endgame

His beautiful eyes pin me straight through my soul.

Good. I look forward to continually surprising him.

He’s clearly judging where I stand right now. I’m not mad; I’m disappointed more than anything.

He begins inching towards me with regret written across his face. His tall frame takes its place in front of me as his thumb gently glides across my cheek.

“Seeing you upset like this fucking kills me. Tell me what you need. I’m such an idiot, Dakota.”

He’s pleading, and it almost makes me collapse at the sight of his brokenness.

Obviously, he has more to say, but he’s more worried about how he can care for me. I wish his care were what I needed right now. It would make pulling away so much easier.

The tears I’m holding back fight like hell to escape, as one lonesome drop falls slowly down my cheek, and I quickly turn my head to try and hide it.

“You are everything to me. I want you to know that and hold onto it. I’m upset, but we will be okay. I’m still going tobe here tomorrow; that’ll never change. Yet, I need time to process. Even though I didn’t accept it, your response confirmed you’d never support me accepting another job for myself. I’m hurt you wouldn’t consider my career important enough to leave, while yours is indefinitely secured. This job could have been my only option for a stable livelihood, Cal. I passed on it for you. I understand you were afraid, and I’m so sorry if I put that fear there, but I wish you would have heard me out before assuming the worst.”

His face falls, and I swear my heart shatters into a million tiny pieces, the ramifications of its destruction feeling overwhelming.

This is me being my advocate for once.

I know he loves me. I feel it every second I’m with him.

Callaway needs to trust me enough to show him I’ve caught up, and our endgame is now the same.

I take a soft step back from where we’re standing and lift my eyes to him, hoping he can clearly read the emotions I’m wearing.

“I need a little bit of time. Please give me that. I’ll call myself a ride home.”

He’s rushing after me before I can stop him. “Dakota, please let me take you home, baby. Please don’t leave me. I want to make sure you get home safely.”

Don’t leave him?

“You left me!” I’m yelling, and I can’t stop myself.

His eyes shoot to mine. I’ve never once yelled at him or around him.

My voice drops an octave. This is where the hurt comes through. I’m not capable of hiding it.

He means too much to me.

“You left me…you left me. I went after you, Callaway. But you were gone. You have a family and the team, and I’m soglad that you do, but I have no one. Not one person to call for help who isn’t already connected to you. Not one person to cry to and ask for advice from. Not one person who loves me outside of Navy—but she’s stillyoursister. Not one person to be on my side and to advocate forme. I thought I had you…but you left me, like everyone always has, and you didn’t think twice about how it would make me feel. That hurts like hell.”

I can’t decide if I should look at him or not. My head falls as the tears invade. I feel drained and so emotionally exhausted my body physically feels the weakness of what’s lacking.

“Dakota.”

My hand raises on its own. “Please don’t.”

I’m grateful he gives me the space I’m requesting.

I turn to look at him and smile with as much reassurance as I can muster. “My ride's here. Please let me go, and we will talk soon.”

I don’t look back to see if he follows.

Space will do us good.

He’s layered in raw goodness, which is why I know it’s killing him not to see me home safely. It’s who he is. But I know firsthand that nothing good can come from a conversation stemming from pain yet to be explored.

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