Callie
The living room smelled faintly of cinnamon and the candle Grayson had lit earlier, but I couldn’t focus on it. My chest felt tight, my hands cold, and every little sound seemed louder than usual.
Grayson appeared in the doorway, jacket thrown over one arm, trying to look casual. “Callie?” His voice was soft.
I looked away. “I am fine.”
“You are not.” He stepped closer, the space between us closing. “You have been avoiding me all evening. You won’t meet my eyes. I know something is wrong. Talk to me.”
“I said I am fine,” I repeated, but the words sounded fragile.
His jaw tightened, and for the first time in a while, I saw the edge of frustration in his eyes. “Callie… stop pretending. You don’t hide from me. Not like this.”
I flinched. “Maybe I need to hide sometimes.”
“Why?”
