Or maybe this is just another game to him? Pushing me until I react, and then he can play the victim and make me the bad guy. Make me question myself and drown in guilt, only to smirk when he sees how much I hate myself. That was a classic trick Greg used often.
I hold my head high. I’m not letting anyone manipulate me that way again. I’m not going to fall for these mind games.
But what if I’m wrong? What if that wasn’t manipulation or sarcasm or some twisted power play? What if that was just… Remy? Bruised and cracked and finally trying to hand someone the pieces and I just shut him down.
I swallow hard, throat tight.
I’ve been so busy trying to protect myself that I didn’t stop to consider that maybe he’s been doing the same thing. That maybe we’re not that different after all.
Now I don’t know if he’ll ever trust me again, but I have to try.
I glance at the door once more, still half-expecting him to come back. He doesn’t.
I run up the stairs, intent on finding pants and shoes and going after him.
“Woah, where’s the fire?” Callen asks, stepping out of his room as I run past.
“… I said something to Remy,” I blurt, the words tumbling out before I can decide how much to tell him.
“What kind of something?” He asks cautiously as he follows me to my room.
I wince. “He came inside and said he wanted to talk. He was different. Not cold, not sarcastic, just…. honest. He said he hasn’t been fair to me, and I…”
“You shut him down,” Callen finishes for me, his voice quiet.
My throat tightens. “I thought he was messing with me.”
Callen gives me a long look. He looks pained.
“I panicked, okay?” I say, crossing my arms. “It felt like a trap. Like he was trying to mess with my head.”
“I get it,” he says, stepping closer. “But Remy doesn’t open up easily, if he tried and you…” kaway,
He trails off, and I look away, guilt gnawing at me.
“He looked at me like I’d just proven all his worst fears,” I admit.
“Probably because you did,” Callen says, not unkindly, but not sugarcoating it either.
I flinch. “I didn’t mean to.”
“I know,” he sighs. “You’re scared. So is he. The way he will see it is you didn’t just shut the door on him, you locked it. I know this because it’s exactly what he thinks I’ve done to him, too.”
I suck in a breath, blinking back tears, because that somehow makes it worse. I’m almost certain I know what Callen’s trying to confess without saying the words, but I won’t push. Not when it’s clearly costing him so much just to hint at it.
“So what do I do now?” I ask.
Callen’s jaw ticks. “Right now? You stay here.”
“Callen…”
“No,” he says, holding up a hand. “You need to sit with this for a minute, Paige. You need to understand what it costs someone like Remy to be vulnerable. You don’t just get to apologise and wipe it away like nothing happened.”
**Callen’s POV **
I find Remy where I knew I would.
Not far into the woods, just beyond the clearing where we used to meet up to be alone. He’s sitting on a fallen tree, elbows on his knees, head down. The hoodie he wore earlier is bunched around his arms, like he pulled it off in frustration.
He doesn’t turn when I approach, but I know he hears me.
“Don’t,” he says, voice hoarse. “I’m not in the mood.”
I ignore that and sit beside him anyway, far enough to give him space, close enough to make sure he knows I want to be near him.
There’s a heavy silence for a moment before he exhales and gets to his feet.
I look up at him, his eyes bloodshot and raw. Has he slept at all?
He opens his mouth as if about to say something, then thinks better of it and turns away, walking with purpose back towards the house.
Classic Remy… fight or flight, there’s no in between with him.
I catch up to him just before the tree line thins out near the cabin.
He slows when he hears me, shoulders tense, like he’s deciding whether to bolt or turn and throw a punch, but this time, I don’t give him the option.
I grab his arm and spin him toward me, crowding into his space, backing him until his spine hits the rough bark of the nearest tree. He gasps, surprised, but he doesn’t push me off.
I breathe in his scent like I’m drowning and he is the only air I need. It floods my senses, sweet, smoky and something uniquely Remy.
I step closer. He’s breathing hard now, like I’ve knocked the wind out of him. His warm breath ghosts over my lips like a taunt or an invitation.
“Callen,” he warns, but there’s no heat in it. Just uncertainty.
“You don’t get to walk away from me,” I say, voice low. “Not after everything.”
“I’m not…
“You are,” I growl. “You’re trying to disappear again. You’re shutting down. And I’m done letting you.”
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