When The Rain Falls

CHAPTER 16

Callen could only describe the entire situation as tense. During the day, Amelia would take care of the children, cart them off to school and nursery, make their breakfast and lunch, and then disappear. She had made it absolutely clear that she was not going to be around on the weekends, since Arya could watch them, and she had to figure out how to distance the girls from her and ease Arya into her place. She had told Callen this, without even looking at him, while she allowed Ainsley to paint her nails. He noticed she hadn’t given much thought to letting him know off times in front of the children, being bold enough to advise when she had dates to them verbally, and him via texts.

Which was often.

Almost nightly.

He was back on the day shift, and she would wait for him to arrive home in the afternoon before running upstairs, getting dressed, and then leaving. Often she wouldn’t say anything to him or Arya before leaving, and she’d always wear a long coat over her clothing, her make-up done, hair perfectly done and boots clicking on the hardwood floor. He’d watch her exit, but could never catch her eye. Not that he wanted to.

Arya would slide up next to him and caress his palm with her fingers, and whisper to him that dinner was getting cold. He’d sit at a table with two scowling young girls and a desperate wife trying to engage them, only to be met with silence. This lasted a week, until Ainsley just began to take her plate into her room, and Fiona would just remain silent.

“At the very least, she’s not flinging insults at me anymore.” Arya said softly, gazing down at her lap.

Callen looked at Fiona, and watched her eat with her hands, not bothering to mess with utensils. He felt exhausted and mentally drained. Arya tilted her head upwards and looked at him, her lips pressed together into a thin line. She had aged immensely in the two weeks she had come home, bags under her tired hazel eyes, and the girls pulling all stops to make sure she knew her place in their hearts.

Which was no place.

His food had suddenly become as tasteless as clay. He stared down at what Arya had attempted to do, and it was a typical Scottish affair. Amelia only cooked for the girls now, breakfast and lunch, and then would take them to school and bring them home. When the girls weren’t around, neither was she, leaving Arya alone throughout the day. It was common for him to come home and his wife would wring her hands, citing she was bored, and missed him. They would sit down and chat a bit, and Callen would gently nudge Arya into attempting to speak to Amelia, at the very least about the children. It was then he found out that once they were gone, so was she.

Before they sat down, Callen went to the office for a decanter. His eyes shot at the half-filled bottle and he remembered the last time he drank from it. Kenny and Amelia’s date, when he finally realized she had meant more to him than just a caretaker. Now, the time requested by him was coming to an end. She confirmed earlier via text that she would be leaving tomorrow, early in the morning, and said she would be staying at Jules. He looked at the decanter again, and picking it up, he took it back to the dining room and set it at his seat. Arya gave him a puzzled look, but ignored it when he downed two small tumblers with his meal.

After their quiet dinner, which Ainsley didn’t show to again, Arya had taken Fiona to bed. She came back out afterwards with an overnight bag. She looked at him sadly, and forced the words out of her mouth. “Callen,” She said. “I’m going to spend the weekend at mothers.

Callen gave her a questioning glance, and she hung her head.

“Amelia is leaving tomorrow.” She said sadly. “I can’t be here for the brunt of Ainsley’s rage. She’s been quiet thus far, but tomorrow won’t be. I can’t take that anger from her, that hate. She's going to be incredibly angry and upset, and I know she'll take it and blame it on me.”

He looked up at her, and narrowed his eyes. “You do realize that children aren’t disposable, ay? You have to take the good and the bad. This is goin’ to be one of the bad. Children blame parents for things, and we take their feelings and help them through.”

“I understand that, Callen.” Arya wrung her hands and looked away. “I can't do it. I can't. I can't stand to see her so angry and upset. Fiona, crying in angst, I can't take it Callen."

Callen looked away from her, shaking his head. “Go.” He said quietly. “I’ve dealt with the bad times for four years alone, Arya. I can do it again."

She clicked her tongue. “That’s unfair, Callen-”

“Just go, Arya. Just go.”

"Very well," Arya murmured softly. "I can return on Sunday, when they’ve had time to calm down a bit.”

He said not a word to her. Instead, he listened to her walk to the door, and then shut it quietly behind her before he let his stoic demeanor falter. Callen leaned back in his chair, and stared at his half-eaten meal. He pondered if he should trash it when he heard those damned heels clicking on the staircase again. Looking towards the noise, he watched as Amelia came fluttering down the stairs, shocked she was even home. She had that damned coat on, nylons, and he couldn’t tell what else. He stared at her evenly, waiting for her to notice his presence.

When she did, it was on the third to the last step, and when she caught his eyes with hers, she froze. She carefully descended the stairs and stood at the bottom of them, giving him a soft look, before turning away and resuming her steps towards the door.

“Sit.”

He didn’t even hear himself say it. It just slipped from his lips, and was so low it was almost a whisper. Amelia looked away from him towards the door, and pursed her lips. “I really need to get going, Callen.”

“Please?” Callen asked, finally taking his hands from his lap to the table. He pushed his plate away, and reached for the chair next to him, pulling it from under the table. It was Ainsleys’ normal spot, and was clean from debris. “Amelia, please?”

Her eyes narrowed at his pleading. He never begged. Never.

Carefully she pulled her coat off, and slid it on the back of the chair, secretly enjoying his reaction to her outfit. A low cut white halter top that came together just below her breasts, with two straps that wrapped around her waist. A red fake leather skirt that came to the tops of her thighs and barely covered her behind. Fishnet stockings with rhinestone accents. And a black lace bolero.

She looked trashy. She looked slutty. She looked exactly like someone looking for a night out, and a way to leave in the morning. And his face couldn’t hide his appreciation.

She sat down and scooted the chair closer to the table, her eyes never leaving his face. He eyed her body from the boots to her breasts, where his eyes stopped for a moment. She liked how uncomfortable she was making him, even when he finally reached her eyes. Leaning on the table, she folded her arms and stared at him, trying to feel any animosity towards him but failing. Instead she felt numbness, gazing at him, taking in his tired face and feeling an overwhelming rush of melancholy. Callen looked defeated, lost, as he fought for her eyes, to look at him and see him this way.

Tired.

Vulnerable.

Worn down from the past two weeks of trying to get their lives situated.

Broken from trying to juggle his relationships with the newfound hatred of his children to the ignited candle of his marriage.

To the heartbreak of the young woman in front of him, for which he was solely to blame.

His mouth worked on his face, which Amelia recognized as him struggling to say something, anything. She decided to fill the silence, and spoke softly. “You look absolutely terrible.”

The smallest of smiles hinted on his lips, and he slowly blinked, leaning back into his chair. He took his gaze back down to the table, staring at the grooves. He let out a soft sigh before he replied to her. “It’s been rough.”

“I know,” Amelia said softly. “I know it's hard. But it’ll be easier, I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“I… knew that.” Callen looked at her again, his voice raw. “I screwed up, Amelia. I f****d everything up. I f****d myself and Arya. I f****d myself and you. I f****d me an’ me girls.” He shook his head slowly. “You were right. I can’t fix this.”

Amelia’s silence was deafening. He cleared his throat and looked at her again. “I miss you.”

“You gave me up.”

“I know.” He said quietly. “Doesn’t mean I can’t miss you.”

Amelia gave him a soft nod, tilted her chin down. “I’m sorry Callen. I really am.”

“I haven’t seen you.” He tilted his head, and mentally began counting the planks on the table. “You’re a wraith now.”

“I’ve been kind of expanding my social life.” She turned her head down and glanced at the table herself, trying to find what he found so interesting. “I said I’d be here for the girls. I’m here for them.”

“Not all the time.”

“I’m here for them,” She continued. “When you aren’t. It’s all I can give them, Callen. I’ve been talking to them about me leaving, and they’re coming to terms with it.”

He paused for a moment, then looked back at her. “Amelia, have you been with anyone? Since this started.”

She narrowed her eyes and stared at him, pulling away slightly. “Awfully personal question there, Callen.”

“I know.” He replied. “My apologies, Amelia. You don’t have to answer-”

“Yes.”

Startled, he blinked, and his mouth opened slightly. He stared at her silently. Amelia kept her composure, and matched his look with her own. “Callen,” she said, “You told me yourself. You were my first, not my last. Besides, I’m sure you and Arya haven’t been well behaved church kids.”

“We’ve slept in the same bed.” He said softly. “We’ve not had sex.”

Amelia was surprised. “Ah, you, er. No?”

“Not since that day, no.”

“Huh,” Amelia smirked. “I figured it’d be like a fresh new honeymoon for you two.”

“Hardly.” Callen scoffed. He picked up the decanter, and looked at the remaining liquid in the bottom. “Remember when I started this bottle?”

Amelia picked up the decanter from his hand, letting her fingers brush his softly. She ignored his reaction, how his face softened and his eyes became distant. “Ah, yep. That was the night I had the disaster of a date with Kenny.”

“After that.”

She brought her gaze to his. “I can’t forget it.”

“I haven’t had any of it until tonight.” He took the decanter from her and poured half the remaining liquid in his glass, and shoved the tumbler to her. He sipped directly from the bottle, and watched as she carefully drank from the glass he gave her. He grinned at her scrunched up face. “Ay, still on the buckfast tally, eh? Young ones.”

Amelia rolled her eyes. “At least it tastes like something other than ash. Is that what this was fermented from?” She took another sip. “Ew.”

He couldn’t help himself and he laughed. Leaning back into his chair, Callen sighed, letting his arms fall and his hands drop into his lap. “I miss you Amelia.”

She gave him an odd look. “You’re happier this way.”

“No I’m not.”

“Like you said. The girls need their mom-”

“They hate her.” He said calmly. “She tries to engage the fun stuff. She doesn’t help with school, with boy troubles. Skinned knees, and sickness, Arya has never done that for them. Never.” He looked at Amelia with a forlorn gaze, and took a deep breath. “It’s been me, Amelia. For longer than four years. Since the day Ainsley came into this world screamin’ and cursin’ like a banshee, it’s been me.”

“Then why would you take her back?” Amelia said harshly. She sipped the scotch again, slowly becoming accustomed to the taste. “She was no good for the girls.”

“She got in me head, Amelia. She got in me head.” He drank from the decanter again, and set it down. “I was scared.”

“Scared of what?” Her voice rose, and she gripped the glass hard. She stared at him and tried to catch his eyes. “Tell me Callen, what the hell made you so scared?”

“I was scared of you, of us!” He rolled his head back and brought his palms to his eyes. “You’re so much f*****g younger than me. Me wife left me after we were together for years, and I couldn’t go through that again.” He lowered his elbows to rest on the table, and stared at the decanter again. “Why the f**k would you want an aging, surly, officer who could die on you at any moment because of his job? Why would you have tied y’self down to that? Why would I have ever been an endgame for you, someone like you?”

“Callen,” she said, chewing her lip. “What do you mean, someone like me?”

“Beautiful, Amelia.” He leaned back and looked at her, swallowing hard, and she watched his throat work. “f*****g beautiful. You f*****g took me that first day, in the damn cafe.”

“When I was covering for Aoife-”

“No. Not that day.” He shook his head. “No. Months before that. Wearing that huge jumper, covering your head. The day Jules hired you. I know for damn sure you remember that.”

Amelia became still. She grasped her fingers, realizing how shaky her hands were. “You remember that day?”

“How the f**k could I not? You’ve the eyes of a bleedin’ cat, Amelia, and when you looked at me when I left, I… I never forgot them.” He closed his fists in his lap. “I never saw y’again, not until I went back after the skinny tart had a meltdown. With how you smiled, how you laughed, how you f*****g c****d your hip and snapped at me. How your gigantic ass looked in those f*****g shorts, how you’d glare at me and scare me into drinkin' disgusting bean water with no cream or sugar, really Amelia, how the f**k was I not supposed to fall for you?”

Amelia laughed at his description, until he came to the last sentence. Catching his eyes with hers, she gave him a soft smile, a smile of calmness and security, as sweet as honey and as tart as salt. He loved that smile, and he knew she only gave it to him. “Fell for me, huh?”

“I’m so sorry it took me this long to see it, Amelia” Callen spoke in a low tone. He shook his head and looked at her. The soft lines on her face, the way a piece of hair seemed locked onto her forehead, the colors vibrant and beautiful, encasing her like a halo. A dark halo, which he knew was brighter than any light he could ever imagine. “Arya left for the night. She won’t be back until Sunday. She doesn’t want to be here when the kids lose y’tomorrow.”

“Typical,” Amelia sneered. She took another sip of her drink.

The decanter next to her was suddenly drained, poured down his lips and he swallowed quickly. He slammed it back down on the table, and reached for her glass, setting it next to it. He stared at the pair, and asked in a low tone, “Where were you going tonight, Amelia?”

She looked at him in silence for a brief moment, before replying “Out.”

“With someone?” He asked. “Or alone?”

“With someone.” She replied softly. “I was supposed to meet them already, but, well, I decided to hang with you instead.”

He tilted his head towards her. Amelia felt the coldness rising from his body. “Were you going to sleep with them?”

“More than likely.” She let out a soft breath. “Yes.”

“How many has it been?”

He watched her mind work backwards, her eyes squinting. “Just three.” She shrugged, and pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket. “These apps make things too easy.”

After a minute's pause, Callen whispered, "I thought you couldn't do that."

Amelia looked at him, and frowned. "Do.. what? Apps? They've been around for a long time, Callen."

"No." He said. He reached for her hand and laced his fingers in between hers. He was shocked she let him. "You. You couldn't... Just have s*x with anyone."

She blew a sharp breath and smiled bitterly. "It was that way. Was. But now, I don't care anymore."

“Amelia,” he began, running his thumb across her knuckle. “Did y’mean it when y’said you fell in love with me?”

“I think so.” She replied. “I just know it wasn’t an infatuation like I’m used to.”

“Do you feel the same way? Still?”

She paused for a moment, pulling back her hand and stared down at her glass. The dark liquid coated the bottom of the tumbler, and she swirled it around. “You can’t fall out of love in three weeks Callen,” was all she said before tilting her head back and slamming the rest of the alcohol. “You tried for four years. Didn’t work out that way, did it?”

That was enough.

Callen pulled his hand away and snatched her phone and shut it off. He threw it on the table and stood up, staring down at her. Amelia glared at him, and got up from her seat as well, about to question him in confusion until his hands came around the nape of her neck, and his mouth met hers with a fever she had never experienced from him before. His eyes remained open, as did hers, when his hands went from her neck to the back of her head, and to her behind, grabbing her fiercely. She gasped against his lips when his tongue invaded her mouth, and his leg came in between hers, and carefully ran his knee along the apex of her hips. She could taste the bitterness of the alcohol on his tongue, mixed with desperation. It made her heart ache.

He kicked her chair aside and pushed her roughly on the table, dragging his mouth to her neck, biting her skin as he pulled the halter top down. His mouth lathed over her breasts, and when her hands came over his head to run through his hair, he pulled her hands away, and stared down at her. He gripped her wrists and held them over her head with one hand, while his other worked the zipper of her skirt. He let out a curse, and a growl before shoving it up passed her hips. Gazing downwards, he stopped, a hand dragging slowly on her hips while he held her arms captive above her head.

“No pants?” he asked. When she met his eyes and smirked, she was met with a cold stare, before he hooked the fishnets with his fingers. “Should never go with out them, Amelia.”

“Well, I didn’t want to leave a souvenir for anyone to take.” She yelped when she felt him rip the nylons with ease. “Those were expensive Callen.”

“I’ll buy you new ones.” He let go of her hands and gripped her hips, diving his mouth between her legs and roughly tongued her center. She screamed and arched her back, and he reached for her mouth, covering her lips with his palm. He felt her tongue lick his palm, so he moved his hand lower, letting her teeth sink into the thick part of his hand. His tongue probed her faster and quicker, alternating between long, luxurious licks and sucking at the bundle of nerves crested in her folds. Her whimpers and moans only heightened his needs, and he slipped two fingers roughly inside her already wet core.

Stroking her, her legs went rigid and wrapped around his shoulders. He looked up at her between her breasts and watched her chest rise and fall with her panting, unable to scream with his hand over her lips. He pulled his lips away and flicked her with his thumb, then ran circles around the small bundle, pulling away and watching her reaction. She met his eyes with hers, and he saw desire, desperation, and fulfillment in her catlike gaze, and he thrust inside of her faster, drawing out her moans. Her body began to shake, and he felt her begin to squeeze his fingers, and he pulled his hand away and cradled her neck and the back of her head. Leaning over her, he caught her eyes as he continued to stroke, flick, and manipulate her body into the beginning of convulsing. When her pants became moans, he crashed his lips down on hers, bringing her to orgasm on the table, feeling her drench his hand in her release while she screamed down his throat.

Carefully, he pulled his hand from her grip, and wiped it on his trousers. He stood up and pulled her off the table, and she almost fell, her legs wobbly. Turning her to face away from him, he pushed her over to lean her against the table, and kneed her legs wide. She arched her back and thrust her ass in the air, presenting her wet center to him, and he went rigid. Unzipping his jeans, he pulled himself out of his clothing, and ran his hardness over her crevice, stroking the outside, coating himself in her release. She moaned softly, and then gasped loudly when he pressed himself against her and pushed inside, not caring as her hands struggled to grip the edge of the table, and her legs spread wider to accommodate his girth. He reached around her legs to stroke her between her folds, while he shallowly f****d her, until he felt her own fingers brush over his, and she gently pushed his hand away.

Adjusting his hips, he f****d her with out abandon, her gasps and cries fueling him to move faster and harder. He ignored when her body shook as she struggled to take him entirely, and he focused on where her body met his. His hand came down and loudly slapped her ass, and she moaned loudly, while he pushed inside her, slamming her into the table. With each gasp and groan, she'd call out his name, and beg for him not to stop, to keep going, and would moan about how he felt inside her. He felt her begin to close on him, grip him inside of her and he leaned over her, one hand on her hip and another coming under her arm to grasp her breast. Slowling his movements, he pressed his lips against her shoulder, and the back of her neck, before entangling his hand in her hair and pulling her head back.

"Who, Amelia?" He growled next to her ear. His fingers tightened on her hair, and he pressed his mouth into her neck. He sucked the skin hard, inciting a cry from her throat. "Who were they?"

"Who?" She choked out, her voice breathless.

He responded by thrusting into her harder, closing his eyes against her shoulder. "Who were they?" She moaned an answer he didn't quite catch. Gripping her hair harder, he moved his hand between her legs and shoved her fingers away, furiously stroking between her folds. She screamed, and gripped the edge of the table. "Who were they?!"

Amelia cried out, her orgasm ripping through her as her legs began to shake. He slammed into her quicker, unable to control himself. He shouted as her body gripped him desperately, and shoved himself as deep as he could before completely emptying himself. Collapsing on top of her, he remained inside, shaking, and watched as she unhooked her fingers from the edge of the table and buried her face in her arms. Callen untangled his fingers from her hair, and carefully removed himself from inside her, grabbing the edge of her skirt and pulling it down. Amelia lay on the table, unmoving, while he redid his trousers and looked away. She mumbled something into her arms, and then hinged upwards slowly, adjusting her top to cover her breasts again.

"Amelia, I-"

"I said they didn't matter."

"Amelia, please speak to me." Callen asked quietly, and carefully turned her to face him. "Please."

"No," She spat the word, her face contorting in anger. "Just like this. They didn't matter."

Callen stood still, staring down into her flushed face, watching her lips open slightly with her breathing. She grabbed her jacket and turned towards the stairs, climbing them far too quickly, stumbling slightly in her heels. He walked up behind her and placed his hands on her waist, holding her steady, and walked up the stairs with her. When they came to the door, he opened it for her, and she walked in and threw her coat on the bed. She walked towards the restroom, and closed the door behind her, not acknowledging his presence in her room. Callen watched her go, then sat down on her bed. He heard the shower begin, and took that moment to run downstairs to a spare bathroom and clean himself as well.

He had finished fairly quickly and changed his trousers before racing back up the stairs. He had closed the door behind him when he left, and hesitated to open the door again. Would she want him there? He had already opened the door when he asked himself that question, and was answered when he saw she had gotten out of the shower, fully clothed in her normal comfortable wear, and was staring at the bed.

"Amelia?" He whispered. She turned sharply, and his heart stopped. Glasses.

"You came back." She said softly. Relief was in her face, and she walked backwards to the bed. When her knees hit the edge, she sat down, her eyes never leaving his face.

Callen walked towards her bed, and sat on the other side, leaning back against the pillows. He stretched his arm over the pillow, and she took the invitation, lying on his arm and cuddling close to him, her arm over his chest. He moved his body to face hers, and grabbed her waist to pull her close to him. Her arm slipped over his chest and pressed her arm against his back with her fingers trailing along the muscle and sinew. Callen leaned his forehead against hers, and closed his eyes. "Did I matter Amelia?" He begged her softly.

Amelia swallowed, and a soft cry escaped her throat. "They didn't matter, because they weren't you, Callen." She began to shake, and he pulled her to him as close as he could, rubbing her back. "They weren't you, they'll never be you."

"We can make this work," he whispered in her hair. "I can make it work."

"Callen, please stop." Amelia said back to him. She pulled away and looked up in his eyes, and was shocked to find a downpour in them. "Just please. Take tonight in any way you can. I won't be here when you wake up."

His mouth came crashing down on hers, and he didn't try to convince her of anything again.

She made good on her word and was gone before he woke up.