Long Way Home by Helenkay Dimon

of calm. “Walker is a friend. A good friend. You were the only one I was sleeping with, the one I loved and—”
    “Stop saying that.” This time Callen put up a hand as if to knock away her words.
    She refused to back down. Not on this. “At first I didn’t tell you about my relationship with Walker because I didn’t expect to fall for you. Then I couldn’t figure out how to say it.”
    “You didn’t even try.”
    “I knew about your trust issues.” It was a delicate and small way to say such a massive, all-encompassing thing.
    Callen’s eyes bulged. “Gee, I wonder why I had those?”
    She leaned the back of her head against the door. “I messed up. I will say it a thousand times if you want. I will get on my knees, tell your brothers, put it on the Internet. However you need me to say it, I will. I made a mistake.”
    “A pretty fucking huge one.” The words were harsh, but much of the anger had seeped out of his tone.
    “Yes.”
    “Fine. We agree on something. Lucky for us.” He reached for the door again, but his palm flattened against it instead, right by her shoulder.
    She wanted to touch him, was dying to touch him, but she held off. “Answer this. If I had told you who I was that next morning, after we met and made love and spent the night all over each other, what would you have done?”
    “Left.” His elbow bent and he dipped in closer. “But don’t act like that proves something. If you had confided in me, I would have been able to make an informed decision.”
    She could smell the soap on his skin. “To leave.”
    “And I would have gone before we moved in together. Before I . . . got attached.”
    She grabbed on to the way he stumbled over the words, hoping it meant something for this usually-so-sure man to fumble. “You make me sound like a favorite pillow.”
    “Don’t turn me into the bad guy in this.”
    “I’m trying to get you understand.”
    “What?”
    When it looked like he was going to push off from the door and move away again, she wrapped her fingers around his arm. She would have slipped them around his neck and held on but she knew he wasn’t ready. He had to make the move. “I have been trying since the night you confronted me to make you listen. You dropped the bomb about us being over and left. We never talked, and you refused to communicate.”
    He lifted his head and stared at her. “You’re missing the point, Grace. You had to be confronted. You didn’t tell me on your own. I found out who you really were, what you did for a living, because I saw you with Walker. You had no choice but to confess then.”
    “I know. I’m sorry.” She leaned in until their foreheads touched. At least some part of her made contact. “I am sorry. Sorry. Sorry.”
    Callen shook his head, and his hair rustled against hers. “You have to leave.”
    The bumpy turn in topic had her reeling. “The motel?”
    With a loud exhale, he broke the bond and put some air between them. “The state.”
    “No, Callen.” She tightened her hand on his arm. “That’s not going to happen.”
    “I don’t want you here.” Nothing in his tone suggested that was true.
    Taking the risk, this time she skimmed her fingertips over his chin, loving the roughness of the stubble against her sensitive skin. “Or is the problem that you’re afraid to have me close by?”
    “I’ve never lied about wanting you. Even now I . . . fuck me. I knew this would happen.” He took her hand and flipped it over, placing a soft kiss in the dead center of her palm. “I do want you.”
    Some of the iciness inside her melted. “Callen—”
    “It’s the only fucking thing we’ve ever gotten right. The bedroom. There we communicated fine. Problem was it only happened there.”
    “That’s not true.” She wouldn’t let it be true. What they had went beyond the physical. Maybe it started there, but it grew into something. Something that would now bind them forever.
    Her thoughts brought her full