Callie
We hadn’t cleared the air since last night.
I hadn’t seen much of Grayson all day. He’d been out on errands, the kind of errands that seemed suspiciously convenient for avoiding me.
I told myself that was fine.
That space was good.
Maybe if I didn’t see him, I could breathe again.
But when the low, steady rumble of his truck rolled up the driveway in the late afternoon, my stomach tightened.
I was sitting cross-legged on the living room rug, sorting through a stack of old magazines Mia had left piled in the corner. She had this habit of keeping every glossy issue she ever bought, convinced she would “rip pages for inspiration” one day. Half of them still had subscription inserts falling out.
The hum of the fridge in the kitchen was the only sound until my phone buzzed beside
