Page 88 of When the Storm Breaks
I let her stay.
Let myself stay.
The movie ends. The credits roll.
And I stay perfectly still.
I don’t want this moment to end.
Chapter 28
Calla
Haiyden brought me home hours ago, but for some reason, I can’t fall asleep without him next to me. I’m curled up on the couch in my living room, the TV murmuring in the background, its glow washing over the room.
I’m not really watching anything. My thoughts keep drifting back to my day with Haiyden—the way his expression softened when he looked at me, the quiet afternoon we spent on the couch, how comfortable it all felt.
My phone lights up on the coffee table, breaking through the stillness.
I pause before reaching for it, foolishly hoping it’s Haiyden.
And when I pick it up, my heart trips the way it always does.
Haiyden: Come to the bar tomorrow.
My lips twitch into a smile, and before I can overthink it, another message comes through.
Haiyden: I know it’s New Year’s, but come.
I don’t waste a second.
Me: I’ll be there.
I set my phone down and roll onto my back, pulse quickening as I stare at the ceiling. I tell myself it’s just a text, a simple invitation—but the flutter in my chest says otherwise.
Chapter 29
Calla
I take a cab to Driftwood, the memory of my last visit clinging like a shadow. Just thinking about it stirs the ghost of a hangover, settling in before I step inside.
When the car rolls to a stop, I take a breath and brace myself, letting the cold air cut through me. The bar thrums with energy, its pulse spilling onto the street—thick and electric.
I don’t hesitate before reaching for the door and stepping into the heat of it.
The bar looks different tonight—shimmering, celebratory. I don’t know who took the time to decorate, but it feels like something Chase would do. Then again, after the past few days with Haiyden, I’m starting to think anything is possible.
The usual melody of indie and alternative has been swapped for a bass-heavy beat that vibrates the floor. The air is alive with cheers, clinking glasses, and something else I can’t quite name.
Whatever it is, it’s getting to me too.
Things are changing.
The crowd is thick, but I find Haiyden immediately. My body stills, drawn to the sight of him behind the bar. Every movement is effortless. He still carries that same brooding energy, the same Haiyden I’ve always known. But tonight, something about him is lighter. Looser.
His biceps flex as he reaches for a bottle, his forearms taut with each motion. Even from here, I can see the sharp play of muscle—the tension and release. A shadow of a smile tugs at his lips before vanishing just as quickly.
He’s focused. Taking orders, clearing glasses, closing checks. But I can’t look away.
