Chapter 2 Two Holidays

Callie's POV

His voice landed on me like a hand pressing against my chest. I hadn't realised how shallow my breathing had become until that single word made my lungs burn.

I swallowed, forcing myself to respond and act as if everything was normal. To act like I wasn't standing in front of the man who had lived far too vividly in my dreams.

"H... hi," I managed to say after finding my voice and it came out thinner than I intended.

Beside me, Jenna remained completely unaware of the silent war that was erupting inside my head.

"Dad, what are you doing home ready? I thought your work trip wasn't ending till after Christmas."

He turned fully toward us, lowering his phone to his side. For one second, I thought I saw something flicker across his face. First, it was recognition, then something darker. But it was gone as it came, replaced by the calm, unreadable mask I knew too well.

"It got cancelled," he said evenly. "Last minute."

Jenna groaned. "Ugh, well. At least you're home."

She turned, grabbing my arm excitedly. "Anyway..." she turned to him, grinning, completely oblivious to the way my pulse was trying to claw out of my throat.

"Callie's staying with us for Christmas. Her parents travelled, and there's no way I was letting her sit alone feeling miserable."

Staying with him. Ohh, no! I could feel my stomach tighten. His gaze flicked back to me. It wasn't soft nor hungry. It felt like he was searching me.

"That's okay with you?" She asked.

"Of course," he said after a while. "You're welcome to stay, Callie." His tone was polite, controlled, yet distant.

Immediately, I nodded. "Thank you." My voice sounded like I had borrowed it.

Jenna dragged me upstairs before anything else could be said while her energy was bouncing off the walls like it always had. She was chattering about how everything had changed and nothing had changed at the same time.

The house smelled the same. Warm, clean, with a hint of coffee and wood polish. She showed me to a spare room, close enough to her dad's room and it made my stomach tighten uncomfortably.

"You'll take this one," she said, tossing my suitcase onto the bed. "I'd let you stay with me, but..." She lowered her voice, grinning.

"I sneak my boyfriend in. A lot. My father would be mad if he ever found out."

One of my hands covered my mouth as I laughed in silence. I was grateful for the normalcy. Jenna was still being her.

"You're still reckless," I teased in a low tone.

"And you're still boring," she shot back. "God, I missed you."

We talked for a while, about everything and nothing. We talked about her job, my failed relationship. The way life had been cruel to me.

But as evening settled in I was hyperaware of the house. The sound of Dominic moving around downstairs. The low murmur of his voice on a call and the way the house seemed smaller than it used to be.

So I stayed in my room. Scrolling, unpacking and staring at the ceiling. I wanted to do anything but think about how close he was.

After midnight, my throat was dry and burning. I'd been thirty for a while, but didn't leave because I heard his movements around the house.

Forcing myself out of bed, I left my room. The hallway was dim and quiet, and I could hear my own footsteps. Pulling Jenna's oversized hoodie tighter around myself, I padded into the kitchen.

I had just poured myself a glass of water when the light suddenly went off.

"Oh, come on," I whispered.

I stood smothered, blinking into the sudden darkness, and listening to the faint hum of the house. I had just found my way to the counter when I heard footsteps behind me.

The moment I turned, I walked straight into a solid chest. A terrified gasp left my throat as I yelped and water sloshed everywhere. The glass slipped from my hand shattering against the floor.

"Oh shit," a voice said at the same time as mine.

Dominic. His hands came up instinctively, steadying me by my arms.

Immediately, I felt heat bloom through the thin fabric of the hoodie where he touched me.

"I didn't know anyone was in here," he said quickly. "The power tripped. I came to check it."

"It's... It's fine," I said, stuttering, though my heart was pounding violently. "I was just getting water."

"Careful," he said softly. "There's glass."

He retrieved his hand from my arm, letting go of me just as fast as he'd touched me, then he stepped back. The absence of his warmth felt louder than the contact itself.

"I'll clean it," I added too quickly and my voice wavered as I gestured to the broken glass.

"I've got it." He countered, reaching for a towel. "Don't move. You'll get yourself hurt."

I stood there and watched him crouch, bare feet on the cold tile. Even in the low light, I could see the muscles on his shoulders flex as he moved. For some unknown reason, it made my chest ache.

Just like that, the silence between us became so tight and without thinking my mouth opened.

"I can help." The words fell out of my mouth before I could swallow them.

He paused his action and glanced up. "You're sure?"

I nodded, holding up my phone. "Torch."

Our fingers brushed as he reached out for it. The moment his fingers brushed mine, the world narrowed.

It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't deliberate.

It felt like my body recognised him before my mind could catch up. A sharp inhale caught in my chest.

I hadn't realised how tense I was until that single touch loosened something deep inside me, something I'd spent years locking away.

My pulse thudded loudly in my ears, and suddenly I was painfully aware of how close he was. Too close. Close enough that I could feel the heat coming off his skin.

His hand stilled around my phone. For a second, neither of us moved.

The torchlight trembled slightly in my grip, casting shadows over his bare chest, over the familiar lines of him I knew too well. Lines my dreams had memorised with cruel accuracy.

"Callie," he said quietly.

There was restraint in his voice. Like he was careful, and standing on the edge of something and choosing not to step forward.

That was what broke me. I pulled my hand back as if I'd been burned.

"I.. I think I should go."

My voice didn't sound like mine.

He straightened slowly, giving me space, but his eyes didn't leave my face.

"You don't have to," he said, softer now. "It was an accident."

"I do," I interrupted, shaking my head. If I stayed one more second, I knew I'd do something reckless. Something honest.

"I'll... clean up. You can... You can finish." The words barely made sense, but I turned anyway, fleeing before he could say anything else.

I could feel his gaze on my back as I walked away. Heavy. Unavoidable.

When I reached my room and closed the door behind me, my legs finally gave out. I leaned against the wood, pressing a hand to my chest as I struggled to breathe.

That touch, that single, accidental touch, had done more damage than all my dreams combined.

And I knew, with sinking certainty, that Dominic had felt it too.