Page 47 of The Callahan Effect

"You don't have to say anything." He brought my knuckles to his mouth. "I'm not sorry."

I studied Mason's face, searching for regret, for retreat, for the moment when someone decided my silence and inability to communicate made me too difficult to care about.

There was no sign of fear. There was the cost of us beginning a relationship waiting beyond the door but there was no retreat.

I turned my hand and kissed his palm.

Morning would still come and with it the need to speak with Dad, but for now, I felt safe in Mason's arms.

Sleep eventually claimed us, though not before we'd surrendered completely to everything we'd both felt since Mason arrived at Evergreen. Every lingering uncertainty disappeared beneath whispered smiles, gentle touches, and the certainty that neither of us had been imagining what had drawn us together. Nothing about being with Mason felt hurried or uncertain. Instead, every embrace, every kiss, and the time we spent looking at one another strengthened the feeling that this wasn't the beginning of something reckless, but the beginning of something that had been waiting for both of us.

***

I woke before sunrise without immediately understanding why.

The room remained dark, pale morning light only just beginning to seep around the edges of the curtains, but it wasn't the unfamiliar surroundings that held my attention. It was the man at my back.

Mason's arm rested comfortably across my waist, his steady breathing brushing softly against the back of my neck as he slept without the slightest hint of awareness that he'd managed to claim almost the entire bed during the night. I'd shared hospital call rooms with classmates, fallen asleep on couches after study sessions, and spent countless nights alone in my own bedroom, yet none of those memories came close to how I felt waking with Mason. Lying there with him holding me so naturally felt less like spending the night somewhere unfamiliar and more like waking exactly where I belonged.

For several peaceful minutes I allowed myself to exist in the moment, listening to the cadence of Mason's breathing and wishing the glowing numbers on the bedside clock would stop advancing. They refused to oblige. Responsibility wasn't going to wait because I wanted another hour in his arms. The arena wouldn't prepare itself, and if the ice wasn't ready before the team arrived, Dad would be the one dealing with the consequences. Reluctantly, I checked the clock.

5:38 a.m.

Much as I wanted to ignore it, it was time to get up.

I closed my eyes for a second. It wasn't nearly long enough.

Carefully, I shifted just enough to reach for my clothes, hoping I could slip out of bed without disturbing Mason. The attempt lasted all of three seconds before he tightened his arm around me and buried his face more firmly against my shoulder.

"Mmm...don't go."

The sleepy murmur carried just enough complaint to make me laugh silently.

His eyes opened a fraction before finding mine.

"You're actually leaving."

I gave him an apologetic smile.

I have to. The team trains this morning, and the ice has to be ready before everyone arrives.

He read the screen before letting his head fall dramatically onto the pillow.

"It's Sunday."

He feigned offense on behalf of the entire roster.

"I can't believe Coach scheduled practice the morning after the first game."

Most Sundays are yours.

He sighed with theatrical disappointment.

"So this isn't going to become a weekly torture session?"

I shook my head and relief spread across his face.

"Good. I was beginning to think your father hated weekends."