Page 95 of Elusion

“What happens if—”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. We aren’t traveling down this inane what-if path ever again. “No hypotheticals. No asking what if the three of you are dangling off a cliff, and I can only save two of you. Or what if they need all of your organs for some insane reason that will never happen. We both know you want me to say I would choose them, but I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. And I don’t want to lie to you, so just don’t ask.”

She stares at me, her expression unreadable.

“You have to tell me what you’re thinking, beautiful. Because I feel like a heartless person for having just said that.”

Her gaze drops to the comforter between us. “I’m thinking about how, without a doubt, I’d choose them in both scenarios.”

Of course she would. I’d expect nothing else from her.

I tilt her chin up so she looks at me. “And I won’t make you feel guilty for that choice. Don’t make me feel guilty for mine.”

She sighs, defeated. “We’ll never agree on this.”

“Probably not.”

“So, what do we do?”

I pull her into my arms and kiss her hair. “We go see Cate and Connor because you need to see them.”

She settles back against my chest. “And they need to see me.”

“And the stars align, and everyone gets what they need,” I say with my lips brushing against her cheek. I swallow and focus on keeping my breathing even. “Callie, I—”

“Don’t.” She twists around to face me with wary eyes. “Not yet and especially not in Pete’s bed.”

She’s right about our less than ideal location. Unless I end up blurting it out—always a possibility with me—I can survive a little while longer without telling her how much I love her.

“I guess that means other activities are off-limits in Pete’s bed.”

She lifts her eyebrows. “What did you have in mind?”

I whisper in her ear, “Breakfast.”

Outside of Lauren’s house, Connor waits for us. Callie no more than climbs out of her car when he seizes hold, crushing her. A grunt encourages him to release her so that she can continue breathing.

He catches my eye and mouths,Thank you.

The door to the house flings open, and a screaming banshee in the form of Cate gallops toward us. Both her siblings tense at the sound and rush to quiet her.

“Shh,” Callie says, picking her up. “We have to be quiet.”

Cate kisses her forehead and holds her around her neck.

“She asleep in the basement?” Callie asks Connor.

“She passed out around five after destroying everything in the house that reminded her of Tyler.”

“Everything?” I ask, concerned about the couch and TV.

“I saved anything of actual value.” He grins. “Girls dig that couch too much; I couldn’t let her take a knife to the cushions.”

He watches for my reaction. I hold my hands up and shake my head, not going within a thousand damn feet of that comment. I want to leave with my body intact.

Callie ignores him and sets Cate down. “Well, let’s go pack up my shit.”

And pack up her shit we do. Still obsessed with everything Callie that I don’t already know, I volunteer to deconstruct her photo wall. A distracted Cate spends more time playing dress-up than packing clothes, but it keeps her relatively quiet. A few garment bags from the closet we move to Connor’s room for safekeeping. Everything else we place in boxes or a donation pile.

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