Page 45 of Shadows Relived
“Only when it’s the best I’ve ever had.”
Her breath hitched. Then, softly, “Me too.”
He kissed her again, slower now. Less fire, more warmth.
When they pulled apart, she laid her head on his chest. They listened to the faint noises of the motel, the hum of a vending machine down the hall, someone’s TV two doors over, the occasional rumble of a car on the road beyond the lot.
“We’ll figure this out,” he assured her.
Meaghan didn’t ask what this was. She knew. Them. The danger. Her father. Everything in between.
“You promise?”
He hesitated. Then, “I promise I’ll fight like hell to try.”
She nodded.
It was enough. For now.
She rested her forehead against his for a moment, eyes fluttering shut, breathing in the mix of pain and warmth and unspoken words between them. But even as her pulseslowed, her thoughts didn’t. They were racing toward the inevitable.
“I need you to know something,” she whispered.
He opened his eyes, glancing over at her. “Okay.”
“I’m not going to him,” she said, her voice suddenly steel beneath the softness. “My father. I don’t care what kind of power he thinks he still has over me. I’m not walking into that house like some loyal little daughter just because he asked you to bring me.”
Callen didn’t flinch. He only nodded once. “Then we don’t go.”
Meaghan blinked, surprised by how easily that answer came. “You don’t have to protect him. If that was part of the deal?—”
“There was no deal,” he said, cutting her off, firm now. “He called me because he’s scared and knew I had the skills and discretion to get you out before you got hurt. He seemed scared of whoever’s behind this, of losing you. But I’m not doing what he wants. I’m doing what you need.”
A long breath escaped her chest, part relief, part ache. “What I need is not to be a pawn in whatever mess he created.”
“Then we get you somewhere safe,” he told her. “We take some time, let Blaze dig in. He has a way of finding things. People, as well as their secrets.”
She studied him for a moment, his jaw set even as pain flickered across his eyes. Still so stubborn. Still bleeding. Still thinking about how to shield her, even when he was barely holding himselfupright.
“You really are the stupidest, bravest man I’ve ever known,” she murmured.
His mouth tugged up. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all week.”
She touched his chest lightly, above the gauze. “Then let’s get through this week, Callen. Together.”
CHAPTER 17
THE ROOM HAD FALLENinto that fragile moment that happens after midnight when the rest of the world was quiet, nestled in their houses, getting ready for bed. Meaghan sat in the worn plastic chair by the window, arms curled around her knees, watching Callen sleep, his face partially illuminated by the streetlight filtering through the thin curtains.. He lay motionless on the bed, one arm flung out across the rumpled sheets, the other still cradling his bandaged side. His brow twitched every so often, but he didn’t stir, looking less burdened but still pale. The line of his jaw was still taut even in sleep. Restless, like he didn’t trust the peace they’d bought with blood and luck.
Her chest ached at the sight of him. She had no idea how he was even upright, let alone still cracking jokes and making love to her. The wound on his side might’ve been cleaned and bandaged, but it still needed to be stitched. His body ran on stubbornness and adrenaline alone. And still, he was there, because of her. Because of the kids.Because that’s just who he was. Everything about him radiated strength, but not the kind she’d grown up surrounded by. Not the type that wore medals and held press conferences. Callen was quiet strength. Enduring. Unshakable. He was the man who’d shielded children with his own body, who never complained even when his blood stained the motel sheets.
And yet, there he was. Sleeping in some cheap ass room, shot and bandaged, and still, somehow, hers.
She hadn’t meant for this to happen, hadn’t expected the fire that burned between them or the quiet understanding that lingered when the heat faded. He knew her in a way people didn’t let themselves be known anymore.
She glanced over at the digital clock. 12:07. Saturday was over, and Sunday was sneaking in whether or not they were ready.
She rubbed her bare arms and stood quietly, pacing to the door and back. Outside, the air was still, a heavy Florida calm resting over everything like a held breath.
