Page 116 of Chasing the Sun
Her gaze flicked up. “I mean, the carrots are mostly raw, the sauce is sort of ... glue adjacent, and I think there’s a clump of flour in here that might qualify as a dumpling.”
I laughed, half defeated, and completely in love. “You could lie to me, you know.”
She pointed at me. “You saidbrutal honesty. Besides, anything less would rob you of the chance to grow.”
I looked up at her and found her smiling, that teasingglint in her eye softened by something else—something warmer. She reached across the table and tapped her spoon against mine. “But you get points for showing up. That counts for something.”
We ate in silence after that—well, she ate. I pushed food around my plate and tried to figure out how to say everything I wasn’t supposed to say. The longer we sat, the heavier it all became. The music in the background had long since faded into quiet, and the sun had disappeared completely.
After clearing the dishes—both of us studiously ignoring how bad the food had been—I stood at the sink, rinsing off the plates. Elodie stepped beside me and handed over the dish soap, her fingers grazing mine.
We both froze, but neither of us moved away.
“I miss you,” she said suddenly, barely above a whisper.
I turned, her hand still in mine, our bodies inches apart.
“I’m right here,” I said.
“You know what I mean.” Her voice broke on the last word andfuck, I hated that.
I hated the hurt in her eyes. I hated the way we both wanted everything and didn’t know how to want it without breaking the other.
“El . . .”
She looked up at me, and for a moment neither of us breathed.
Then her hand slid up to my chest, fingers curling in my shirt, and I kissed her.
Not rushed or reckless. Just ... deep and long, like a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep.
When we pulled back, her forehead pressed against mine. I held her there, anchoring both of us in the quiet. I wanted to tell her everything, but I couldn’t.
Not yet.
Instead, I whispered, “I told you, I’m right here.”
Elodie didn’t say a word—just took my hand and led me down the hall.
Floorboards creaked beneath us, and the soft scuff of her bare feet on the hardwood sounded louder than it should have.
Her hand never left mine, but her grip tightened like she was afraid I would vanish before we reached the bedroom. Like she didn’t know my heart had already decided to stay.
Elodie pushed open the door and stepped inside, letting go only to reach for the lamp on the nightstand. Warm light spilled across the bed—rumpled sheets, a half-folded blanket, the soft imprint of where she had slept alone for too long.
I stood in the doorway, watching her, and for a second I didn’t move because I needed to remember this.
The way she stood with her back to me, fingers toying with the hem of her shirt like she didn’t know what to do with her hands. The way her shoulders rose and fell with the rhythm of a breath she was trying to steady. The way her curls had started to come undone at the nape of her neck.
She turned and I stepped forward.
She didn’t say a word as I reached out and traced my fingers down her arm. Her breath was shaky and soft. When my hand slid beneath the hem of her shirt, her eyes fluttered shut.
“Elodie.” Her name felt like a prayer on my tongue.
She looked up at me, cheeks flushed, lips parted. “Yes, Callum?”
My voice floated over her ear. “I’m notgoing to be gentle,” I said, my voice a low rasp. “But I will be careful. I promise, I will always be careful with you.”
