Page 66 of Endgame

Why can’t I have siblings to take over the stress of this? Or at least one to share it with.

Realizing my mood needs some brightening, I pause on drying my sopping wet hair and head into the living room to blast some hype music. Not that hype music will heal the dread washing over me, but it gives me the pep I need to face today, whether I like it or not.

It’s taken me longer than I care to admit, but selling my childhood home has been something I’ve contemplated since their death. It's been a year since I’ve gone back to check on it.

I couldn’t do it before.

There are too many memories; there is so much love in that house that the pain of it will surely cripple me. Technically, I could keep it.

My parents purchased it before I was born, leaving it to me entirely paid off. Every last dollar to their name was left for me.

They always made sure I never went without.

The home itself is dated; I’m sure more so now with the absence of someone living there and caring for it. The guilt of my neglect weighs heavily. I did ask Trevor at one point to help me at least maintain the lawn, and he refused, saying they left it to me, and I had the funds to hire someone to do it.Asshole.

I miss them so much.

Their absence feels lighter, however, after sharing it with Cal, but I know revisiting the home we shared will hit me like a ton of bricks—a full-fledged gut punch.

I’m startled by a loud knock on the door. I’m not expecting anyone. Especially this early. Maybe it’s a delivery?

Walking to the door, I quickly unlock the deadbolt and step back as the door reveals Callaway in all his glory.

He’s dressed effortlessly in what I’ve known to be his perfect outfit: dark-washed jeans, a solid black tee, and brown Chelsea boots.

The man couldn’t look unkempt if he tried.

Fortunately for me, he’s holding my favorite thing: black coffee in the biggest size available, which seems to be from Java, my favorite coffee place.I can’t forget to ask him how he knew that,and my coffee is accompanied with an entire sleeve of Biscoff cookies in his hands.

A hottieandsome snacks? What did I do to deserve this reward?

This might be the moment I fall for him. If I haven’t already.

He came here for me. And brought my favorite things.

I realize I’m staring, more like gawking. “Callaway, hi. What are you doing here?”

His contagious smile makes me question why I’ve refused to accept him in the way he’s fought like hell to have me. His surprise arrival is unquestionably throwing my hormones off kilter.

Since we met, has he always been this protective of me?Has he always shown up?

There’s too much at stake. But when he stands before me, looking like everything good in my world, I can’t help but want to fall at his feet.

The roles have reversed, vacating my ridiculous thoughts of us beingjustfriends. I’m not sure a nun could resist his alluring charm.

He’s looking at me in question, asking me to invite him in.

“Oh goodness. Sorry, come in.” Leading him into my apartment, he heads straight to the kitchen making himself at home, almost like he’s been here before.

Because he has. Not that I would remember much of it. But I’d be deceiving myself if I never pictured him here.

Even the slightest sight of Callaway living the domestic life makes my stomach jump; the limit does not exist on the number of times he’s left me flustered by my feelings toward him.

He wastes no time in letting me in on his surprise visit. “I’m taking you to meet the realtor this morning. You’re kidding yourself if you think I’d let you do that alone.”

Always telling, never asking.

He’s perfect. Let’s get married. Kidding. Maybe.

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