Page 32 of Forbidden Passions

Callie stepped out onto the porch and I could feel her presence like a physical force, disrupting the careful equilibrium I’d maintained for so long.

“Hey,” she said softly, coming to stand beside me at the railing. She’d pulled on my flannel shirt and a pair of shorts I’d found for her yesterday. Her lips were still slightly swollen from our night together.

Beautiful. Devastating.

“I checked the bridge. It’s safe to travel across it.”

“Is it?” She looked at me, those whiskey-colored eyes searching my face. She moved closer, her hand resting on my chest, over my heart. Like she was trying to feel what I wasn’t saying.

The worst part was—I wanted to say it. All of it. That she’d crawled under my skin, reawakened those places I thought were dead. That she’d reminded me I was still a man with wants. With hope.

But hope was dangerous. Hope got people killed.

“You need to get your photos before another storm rolls in.” I moved away from her touch, unable to bear it.

“I’m not on a deadline,” she said quietly. “I really didn’t expect anything, Gabriel. Just maybe not to be dismissed before I’ve even left.”

“What did you expect, Callie?” I turned to face her fully. “That a few days together would suddenly make me pack up and follow you back to civilization? That you’d give up your career to live in isolation with a man you barely know?”

She stood there, challenge in every line of her body. “You’re pushing me away because you’re scared.”

The accusation hit too close to home, igniting a defensive anger. “I’m not scared. I’m realistic. This—” I gestured betweenus, “—was temporary from the start. A product of circumstance. Storms pass and life returns to normal.”

Something flickered in her eyes—hurt, quickly masked by anger. “Circumstance. Right. That’s all this was.”

“Callie—”

“No, I get it. Really.” She stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself. “You’ve got your perfect isolation all figured out. Wouldn’t want someone messing with that.”

“That’s not fair,” I said, even though she wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Isn’t it?” She looked out over the clearing. “You know what I think? I think you’re hiding up here, not because you like being alone, but because you’re afraid of what happens when you’re not.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” My anger rose to cover the uncomfortable truth in her words.

“Don’t I?” She turned back to me, eyes flashing. “I know you wake up before dawn. I know you take your coffee black. I know you keep your sister’s favorite board game even though it hurts to look at it. I know your hands are gentle even when the rest of you is not.”

Each observation landed like a physical blow. She did know me. Somehow, in the span of a few days, hours really, she’d seen me more clearly than anyone had in years.

And it terrified me.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re leaving today. Going back to your life. Your career. This was just…”

“If you say a vacation fling, I swear I will push you off this porch,” she interrupted, temper flaring.

Despite everything, I almost smiled at the threat. At this fierce, stubborn woman who refused to back down, even from a man twice her size.

But I couldn’t give her what she wanted. Couldn’t risk opening myself up to the inevitable pain her departure would cause. Better to end it now, cleanly, before I was in too deep.

Too late, a voice whispered in my head.You’re already drowning.I ignored it. “What do you want from me, Callie? Really?”

The question seemed to catch her off guard. She hesitated, something vulnerable crossing her face before she squared her shoulders.

“I want you to admit this was more than just sex,” she said finally. “I want you to acknowledge that whatever happened between us was real. And I want you to stop using your isolation as a shield against feeling anything that might actually matter.”

Her words cut too close to bone, exposing truths I wasn’t ready to face. Something cold and defensive closed around my heart.

“You’re asking for things I can’t give,” I said, each word carefully measured. “I came up here for a reason. That hasn’t changed.”

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