Callie
The morning after the storm felt somehow different. Not because of what had happened but because of what hadn’t.
We hadn’t gone all the way, hadn’t crossed that final line and yet somehow, it still felt like everything between us had shifted irrevocably.
I sat curled on the couch, knees to my chest, wrapped in the same oversized hoodie I’d thrown on last night. The scent of rain still clung to it and faintly, so did his.
Grayson.
God.
The name echoed in my chest.
I hadn’t seen him all morning.
The house was silent. Mia still hadn’t come home, which wasn’t unusual when she stayed out.
But Grayson? He’d disappeared before sunrise. I knew because I’d heard the sound of his truck engine rumbling softly just before dawn.
He hadn’t knocked on my door.
Hadn’t said a word.
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