“Callie Baker, if you so much as look at my man again I will knock you right in the teeth!”

“I didn’t look at your man,” Callie muttered. She took the beer bottle Joe handed her across the sticky bar and began to walk away from Sheila’s outraged glare and clenched fists.

“I’m not stupid,” Sheila spat, grabbing Callie’s arm so hard that her nails dug into Callie’s skin. “Don’t treat me like I’m stupid.”

Callie flashed an amused smile over her shoulder. Though she knew it was a mistake to bait Sheila, she didn’t manage to censor the words that came next. “That’s weird, because I distinctly remember someone flunking the fourth grade.”

Sheila’s outraged cry wasn’t enough to prepare Callie for the cold sting of drink on her face.

She let out a breath of air, tried to suck in another breath. Anger began to bubble and Callie’s famous temper began to boil. Yes, she had dated Roy years ago, but she certainly wasn’t interested any longer. High school was over and Sheila was more than welcome to the prematurely balding man with the beginnings of a beer gut.

When Callie simply stood there, the drink dripping off of her face, offering no retaliation, Sheila smirked. “Everybody’s scared of Callie Baker. Ha. She’s not so tough.” She turned her back to Callie, obviously enjoying the attention of the small crowd that had gathered.

Callie straightened, eyes narrowed. Sheila would quickly learn it was a mistake to turn your back on someone you’d just pissed off.

When Sheila high-fived someone, Callie’s temper spilled over, but before Callie could react in all the ways her mind envisioned, a man’s arms came around her waist. Callie tried to kick him away, but the grip was tight enough she couldn’t wriggle free.
“Damn it, Calloway, stop kicking at me.”

Because she recognized the low, authoritative voice and the way it seemed to coat over the air like honey, she stopped struggling. “I told you not to use my full name, Trevor,” she huffed, irritated that he was outmaneuvering her.

Hefting her easily off the ground, he began to carry her outside, completely unaffected by her weight.

If he wasn’t wearing his uniform, she might have tried to kick or punch out of his grasp. Even though she had known Trevor Steale since they’d been in kindergarten together, she knew he’d have no qualms about arresting her for assaulting a police officer. He was just that kind of Dudley Do-Right.

Once outside, he stopped, and chuckled at the low, growling sound she made in her throat.

“All right, Calloway.” He released her so that she slid against him all the way down to the ground.

As her foot found purchase on the gravel of the parking lot she tried to ignore the sparks that seemed to ignite whenever she was around Trevor... because even in the bulk of his uniform his long, lean body was damn appealing.

Okay, physically everything about Trevor was appealing. He was tall enough to stand a few inches above her five seven, and though he boasted broad, muscular shoulders, his body was strong and lean, obvious even with the uniform on. He had jet-black hair cut short, but still managed to form a striking contrast against his vibrant blue eyes.

His face wasn’t hard. No, Callie would have called it approachable. Though he had a strong jaw and a cocky grin, the grin was a little off center, softening the face to appealing rather than dangerous. His nose was slightly crooked, and Callie knew it was from an elbow to the nose during a basketball game, rather than in the line of duty like he liked to tell anyone who asked.

Trevor had always given her heart a little flutter. But, she was not the type of girl who admitted to fluttering hearts.

Besides, Trevor was a goody-two-shoes know-it-all in her book. And she was the exact opposite, more often causing trouble than managing to stay out of it. It had always been that way, and it always would be that way.

“I told you not to call me by my full name,” Callie muttered. Few people knew her full first name, and even fewer people had the audacity to use it.

Callie looked up at Trevor’s amused blue eyes and ran a hand over her mussed hair. He had the rare affect of making her worry about her appearance, which wasn’t exactly stellar at the moment. She was still wearing the greasy jeans and black tank top she’d worked all day in.

Of course, it didn’t matter what she looked like. What mattered was that he was standing there looking all… perfect.

He grinned the exact cocky, crooked grin she’d just been thinking about in terms of heart fluttering. “That’s your name. Calloway Jane Baker. Date of birth-”

“Are you stalking me?” she demanded, gesturing wildly with her hands. “All of the sudden you’re there every time I turn around.”

“You’re the one who keeps getting in to trouble, Cal. And it always seems to be when I’m on duty.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Callie replied, shaking her finger towards the tavern. “I ordered a beer, Roy said hi to me, and apparently in Sheila’s book that means I’m on the prowl and after her man.” She turned to face the tavern, talking more to herself than to Trevor. “I’m twenty-seven years old. We’re not teenagers anymore.”

Trevor rested his hands on his gun belt and Callie looked back at him with a scowl. He made one hell of a nice picture. Like something you would see on a calendar, minus the shirt. Too bad he had such an annoying personality.

“Here’s a tip. If you don’t want it to be like high school, stop hanging out at Gulliver’s on a Wednesday night. You’re only going to run into the bottom of the barrel. You don’t belong with them. You are twenty-seven years old and I think you could deal with your problems a little more effectively at this point.”

Callie blew the bangs out of her face, determined to keep her temper in check if only to prove him wrong. “I’m not in trouble, am I?”

“No. You want to press charges against Sheila?”

“No, I just want to go home. Even though I didn’t even get to finish my beer.” Callie began to dig her keys out of her pocket.

“Hold on there,” Trevor began, putting a hand on her arm. “How many beers did you have before that one?”

Callie narrowed her eyes at Trevor. “Are you serious? I’m not drunk. I certainly wouldn’t drive if I was. Do you honestly think-”

Trevor held his finger up, his light blue eyes danced with humor. “Follow my finger with your eyes.”

She batted his hand away from her face. “I will not, you moron. That’s insulting.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Are you resisting an officer?”

Callie folded her arms across her chest. “Insulting and infuriating, Trevor. No wonder you’re single. You’d probably lock up your own wife if you had one.”

Unaffected by her barbs, he held up his finger again and brought it an inch in front of her nose. She resisted the urge to slap it away again and instead watched as he moved his finger back and then forth.

“Satisfied?”

He grinned, tapped her nose with his finger. “I guess you’re free to go.”

Grunting, Callie turned on her heel towards her car, but Trevor’s hand on her arm again stopped her. She looked at him over her shoulder, mustering her best frown. “What?”
“What’s up with you, Cal? Third time in a week you’ve been at Gulliver’s. Now I’m getting calls because of-”

“That was not because of me,” Callie interrupted between gritted teeth. She didn’t like the way those blue eyes seemed to radiate true concern. The last thing she wanted was someone concerned about her.

“Regardless, you’re looking for trouble and you’re finding it. It’s not like you.” He smiled a little. “Well, not like you to get caught quite so much.”

Because reasons bubbled up and threatened to tumble out, Callie jerked her arm free. “Trevor, just leave me alone, huh?”

“I know that’s your motto and all, but something is up with you. Is this about your grandfather?”

Tears threatened, and if there was one thing Callie refused to do it was cry. It didn’t take a genius or a psychiatrist to figure out that her grandfather’s death was taking a toll on her, but it was more than that.

But, Trevor didn’t need to know that any more than he needed to know he was right on the mark. She would handle herself better from here on out. Stay at home until the edge of panic and restlessness faded away.

“It’s been three months, Trev. Besides, I’m used to death.”

“Just because you’ve had to deal with it doesn’t mean you get used to it.” His tone was soft, meant to be soothing.

Callie refused to be soothed. “If I promise to be a good girl will Iowa’s finest leave me alone?” she offered with a disingenuous smile.

Trevor grinned and the little flutter in Callie’s stomach as reaction was completely unwelcome.

“I wouldn’t believe you, Callie. You wouldn’t know how.”
She scowled, folded her arms across her chest. “Wanna bet?”
Trevor chuckled. “Bet?”

“Yeah, bet,” Callie replied with a firm nod, the idea forming in her mind as she spoke. “I stay out of trouble for a certain period of time, you owe me something. I get into trouble again, I owe you something.”

Trevor rocked back on his heels, considered. “Okay, what would I owe you?”

It was Callie’s turn to consider. “You work security at the Aviator’s Lounge the week of the fly-in, free of charge. Three hour shifts each night, even if you have to work your normal shift with County.”

“How long do you have to go without getting into trouble?”

“Well, the fly-in is in a little over a month, so… four weeks.”

Trevor rested his hands on his hips. “You won’t last one.” Before she could make a nasty remark, he kept on. “So what do I get when you get yourself into trouble again?”

Insulted by his easy lack of faith, Callie jerked her shoulders into a shrug. “I don’t know. What do you want?”

He smiled, took a step towards her. Only pride kept her from taking a retreating step back.

“I want you, Calloway.”

Callie narrowed her eyes and tried to hide the fact that she had to swallow. “What do you mean, you want me?” He was messing with her plain and simple, she just wished it wasn’t working.

His easy, charming grin didn’t falter as he flicked a finger down her bare arm. The gesture had goosebumps breaking out where he touched.

“If you win I’m giving you, what, about twenty-one hours of free work?”

Callie had to swallow again, cursed herself for it. “Yes.”

“So, when you lose, you’ll owe me twenty-one hours of work.”
“What kind of work?”

Trevor shrugged. “Whatever kind of work I need. Housework, work on my car, cooking.”

Callie snorted. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to cook for you.”

He raised his eyebrows, made his best impression of an innocent look. “You afraid you’re going to lose, Callie?”

Her eyebrows knit together. “No.” She knew what he was doing. She knew he was baiting her, and yet...

“Then what’s the harm?”

Callie took a deep breath. He was right. What was the harm? Surely she could keep herself out of trouble for four weeks, especially with the threat of doing whatever for Trevor.
Besides, it would be good for her to have some incentive to find more productive ways to spend her evenings, because Trevor was right. Gulliver’s Tavern was the bottom of the barrel and she was only going to keep finding trouble if she kept letting her inner turmoil land her there each evening.

“Fine, deal.” She held out her hand and Trevor shook it.

“This is going to be fun. I can’t wait to start thinking up all the things you can do for me. I’ll have to start a list.”

“Am I free to go, officer?” Callie retorted, resting her hands on her waist and cocking her hips to the side.

“Yeah, you’re free to go.”

Callie pretended to turn in a huff. She wasn’t really annoyed with Trevor, but it was just natural to act like she was. Like a habit she couldn’t quite break.

“You’re looking good in those jeans, Calloway,” he called after her.

“Stop calling me that,” she yelled back at him. Once she was at her car, she looked back over the parking lot at him. “You don’t look half bad in that uniform, Steale. But you’re still annoying.”

She could hear his laugh all the way across the lot and found herself grinning in return.

She’d always considered Trevor a friend. A really hot friend who flirted with her on occasion. But, because they were friends it never went anywhere. So, the flirtation was always kind of fun and innocent. Something to look forward to now and again.

And yet… he had an effect on her she couldn’t quite get a handle on. Usually when it came to men she had an easy control… but Trevor always made her feel like she was most definitely not in control.

Callie sighed to herself, driving out of town and towards home. Windows down, the late summer air rushed across her face. There was a hint of fall in the cooling evening breeze.

When she pulled off the highway and onto the gravel drive of Antiques in Flight, a smile immediately crossed her face.

AIF was her home and always had been. She had never needed anything else. Family business, old airplanes, and open spaces. She worked hard every day and enjoyed it. The airport, museum, and library settled in the middle of Iowa farmland had been a unique place to grow up, a unique place to live, and yet it had been exactly what had always been perfect for her.

What else could a girl possibly want?

Her half-sister Em might say a man, but Callie had no interest in a man. People inevitably equaled heartache and she was quite happy without that. She’d stick to her airplanes. Those, she could control.

She was happy to share her life with what remained of her small family, work with them, and call it a day. Once they convinced Lawson to move back, everything would be in its rightful place. Lawson as president, Em as librarian and records keeper, and Callie as mechanic.

Some made fun of her for being a woman in a man’s world of grease and engines, but Callie was content and didn’t really care what other people thought. Maybe occasionally she felt a little less for not being quite as feminine or approachable as Em, but inevitably she regained her sanity before that thought did any damage.

She passed the buildings of AIF and headed across the runway to the cabin she shared with Em. She noticed the lights were still on as she drove over the bumpy field toward the cove of trees that separated the house from the airport. Em had either left the lights on for her or was uncharacteristically still awake.

Callie certainly hoped it was the former, because she always got a little squirmy at the dreamy way Em sighed over any story Callie had that involved Trevor.
----------------------------------------------------

Trevor hadn’t called. Not once in the week since their awkward moment followed by uncomfortable conversation over ice cream with his parents.

And that was fine. That was good. Things had been getting…cozy. Too weirdly comfortable. Distance was necessary.

But there was something going on with him. She’d never seen him quite so tense, so distracted. Sure, he’d relax for a bit, be his normal self, then something would… change. She couldn’t figure it out, didn’t even know the first thing about getting to the bottom of it.
Callie shook her head, trying to clear Trevor out of her mind. She didn’t have time to think about him right now. She had volunteers to coordinate and some people had already landed for the fly-in.

Her, Em, and Lawson had spent at least fourteen hours a day the final week before the fly-in preparing for the week-long onslaught. And now it was here.

Maybe thinking about Trevor was better than the other thoughts that dominated her mind.

Her grandfather. Grief. That horrible aching feeling knowing he wasn’t there, hearing people talk about him, share memories, wonder how things might be different if he were there.

Though the first day was just full of the diehard antique aviators, it had been a draining one. Ten planes sat on the grass, tents began to pop up in the distant freshly mowed fields as dusk approached. Mary had counted twenty-five people so far, and yet Callie felt as if she’d gone through the gauntlet at the end of this first day. And there was still more to come.

Six more days, hundreds more people. All giving their condolences about Fred, or sharing funny memories, or, even worse, telling her how proud Fred would have been of his grandchildren.

The thought had led her to seek solace in her shop. The night’s festivities were winding down and she’d be able to head home soon, but not yet.

Callie had to lean over and grip the edge of her work table, fighting back tears with furious blinks. She didn’t want to cry, didn’t want to let it go. She was afraid if she did, she wouldn’t be able to stop.

“Get a grip,” she muttered aloud into the silence of the shop. Maybe a breakdown was inevitable, but it didn’t have to be here and now. It couldn’t be here and now. She still had six fly-in days to get through.

“You okay?”

The last thing she wanted right now was company. The last last thing she wanted right now was Trevor and all his complications sticking his head into the shop door. No matter what his deal was, no matter what had been going on with them or, more accurately, not been going on with them, he’d offer compassion and empathy. Like Em, Trevor never could ignore the wounded.

It made him a good cop, she guessed. It made her want to fall into his arms, which was the last damn thing she’d ever let herself do.

“Yeah.” She took a deep breath, steeled all the resolve she had left, and managed her best business-like smile. And for the first time in her entire life, she wished the fly-in was already over. She was ready for the motionless silence and bone-deep cold of winter.
“Lawson shut down the Aviator’s Lounge, so… I’m done with my shift.”

Callie nodded, shoved her hands in her pockets when she realized they weren’t quite steady. “Thanks for working this for us. Especially for free. I don’t think we’ll have any trouble, but it’s better to be safe then repeat last year’s scuffle.”

Trevor nodded took a step forward, but didn’t quite complete the whole motion so that he was standing half in and half out of the shop. “Callie… You look tired.”

“I am tired,” she snapped, not quite sure where this annoyance with him was coming from. She certainly hadn’t been hurt that he hadn’t called. “And I’ll be tired for the next week. So, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

“I don’t just mean physically tired, Callie.”

Callie sighed, resigned that he was going to poke and prod. It was just in his nature. “I’m fine, Trevor. Just go.”

And, surprisingly, that’s just what he did. Not without hesitation, sure, but in no time at all he had left and closed the door behind him.

Too shocked to fight off the wave of impending tears, Callie sunk onto the workbench and let herself cry.
*

Trevor stood outside of the shop door, torn. He should go. He should keep his distance until the fly-in was over and then tell her the truth. That he’d been keeping something from her. It wasn’t important now when she had so much other stuff going on, but… he had to tell her.

She was hurting right now. Not because of him. He wasn’t egotistical enough to think that any of that pain so evident on her face had anything to do with him. She had bigger problems at the moment.

And that was why he couldn’t quite complete the action of going, of walking away. It just wasn’t in his nature to turn his back on someone who was hurting.

Trevor turned back to the door, pushed it open. Stopped a moment when he realized what Callie was doing. She was sitting on the workbench in the shop, sobbing into her hands.

He’d seen Callie cry before, but it had always been silent, controlled tears at funerals or that one time back in the high school football field parking lot. Just little rivers streaming down her cheeks as she hurried to wipe them away. No sound, no wracking sobs.
This was nothing he’d ever seen from Callie. Unabashed emotion. Loud, unadulterated choking sobs that had him crossing the room as quickly as if she’d been physically hurt.
“Callie.” When his hand touched her shoulder she jumped to her feet and whirled around with a startled screech. She cursed at him violently as she tried to wipe the tears from her face.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, I just couldn’t…” He didn’t know how to finish. This Callie was as foreign to him as a stranger, an it left him at a loss as how to proceed.
“Go home, Trevor,” she said in a voice that was raw and shaky. She seemed to give up the attempt to hide the tears, and instead turned her back to him. “This isn’t about you.”
“I know,” he replied. He didn’t touch her again, though that’s exactly what he wanted to do.

“I know, the fly-in must be hard this year. Callie, you can talk to me.”

She shook her head, back and forth, and her body shook again with silent sobs. Though he couldn’t see the tears in her eyes, it was obvious they were still coming down.
“I don’t want to talk to anyone,” she said, her voice so weak and wounded that Trevor didn’t believe her words. “Go home, Trevor.”

“No,” he replied simply, laying a hand on her shoulder. Maybe he should have. Maybe he should have gone and gotten Em or Lawson, but none of those thoughts occurred to him at the time. The only thing he could think of was comforting Callie.

She turned to face him, her mouth open as if she was about to really yell at him, but a sob choked out of her mouth instead and she leaned into him.

“I miss him so much,” she croaked as Trevor wrapped his arms around her, leaned his chin on the top of her head.

“I know.”

She didn’t hold him back, just leaned to him as if she didn’t even have the energy to lift her arms.

“It isn’t fair. None of it’s fair.” Anger mixed with the utter devastation.

“No, you’re right. It isn’t.” And if he could have done anything to change all of the loss in her life, he would have. But life just wasn’t fair sometimes, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“I just want him back,” she said, her voice breaking again, the anger weakening. “Him and Gram and my Dad. I know I have Em and Law, and they should be enough, but they’re not. I just want… God, I just want someone here who is supposed to take care of me. No matter what.”

He had known Callie since he could remember, had been there when she’d lost each of the people who were supposed to take care of her, no matter what. He’d always been there, and yet never in their lives had she talked so openly about those losses. His heart broke for her, and yet there was a part of him that was glad. Glad that she was sharing, opening up a little, letting go of some of that wall. He couldn’t help but think she’d be a little happier once she did.

Trevor ran a hand down the length of her hair, kept his other arm firmly around her. “You know, there are a lot of people that want to take care of you, Callie. You just don’t let us.”

She sighed and pulled back to look up at him. Her face was red and streaked with tears, her eyes puffy and misery as clear as day all over her face. She was a mess, and yet ridiculously beautiful.

“You can’t rely on someone to take care of you.”

“Because they might die?”

She looked at him, through the tears, through the hurt, and let out another ragged breath. “Die. Leave. It doesn’t matter. Because nothing is a guarantee.”

At the word leave, Trevor felt the guilt twist bitterly in his gut, but he didn’t say anything as Callie leaned back into him. He just held her there, trying to argue her response away.

How could he defeat her logic? And even if he could, he shouldn’t. She had a right to feel the way she felt. He certainly couldn’t argue with her when he’d never lost anyone truly close to him, never lost anyone that was supposed to take care of him.

He shouldn’t be here, knowing it made the guilt churn in the pit of his stomach. He shouldn’t be the one comforting her on this issue in particular. Chances were, he would leave. And even if he didn’t get the FBI job, being a police officer put him into danger every single day. It could take his life in the blink of an eye. He was risking too much with Callie. He shouldn’t be here.

And yet, he couldn’t leave. He wished he could say it was noble, that it was the need to take care of her that didn’t allow him to leave. But, it was selfish. He just wanted to be with her, wanted to be the one to comfort her. Emotion clouded reason, and he brushed his lips across her temple.

“Come on, Cal. Let me walk you back to the cabin. You need some rest.”
She pulled away, her head already shaking a no, but before she could even open her mouth to argue, Trevor cut her off.

“I know it’s the first day, but there are still a bunch of people out there, and you know someone is going to want to talk to you. I can deflect them, get you back to the cabin, and then you can get a good night’s sleep. You need to rest. You have a long fly-in still to go.”

“All right,” she acquiesced. The tears had subsided, though the evidence of them was still all over her face. “But, I could-”

“You could handle it all on your own. I know. But, I don’t think you’ll self destruct if I help you just this once.”

She studied him for a second, and Trevor wasn’t quite comfortable maintaining eye contact when the evidence of tears was so clear all over her face. He had to swallow down the admission that wanted to pour out.

“You’ve hardly only helped me just once, Trevor.” She moved past him towards the door, leaving Trevor to flip off the lights as she stepped outside.

“You should probably lock up before you go.”

“Look, I may be a little bit of an emotional mess right now, but I know I’m supposed to lock the damn door.”

Trevor had to fight back a smile. “Yes, ma’am.” It was comforting to see a little snap back in her.

He looked up at the night sky as she locked the door. Stars twinkled, the moon was full enough to bathe the world around them in silver light. The sound of conversations filtered through the warm air, but he and Callie seemed completely detached from it.
In silence, they began to walk back towards the cabin, avoiding the pockets of people gathered around tents or airplanes. It was strange to be sneaking around the edges of everything when he was so used to being in the thick of it.

Halfway down to the cabin, Callie took his hand in hers, linked their fingers together. Trevor squeezed in response, and argued with himself that he needed to tell her, to be honest about the FBI thing and hope they could work it out.

But the part of him that argued now wasn’t the time and he should save it for a when Callie wasn’t feeling so raw seemed to win out.

They reached the cabin, the moonlight making it sparkle against the dark of the woods behind it.

“No lights. Em must still be up at the library,” Callie murmured, stopping in the middle of the yard, her gaze shifting from the house to Trevor.

It was time to go, to turn and leave and just… go. She was fine now. His comforting was done and staying a moment longer was dangerous. Staying would be lying to her.
But, he stood there, his hand in hers, their eyes locked. And when she pressed her lips to his, though he knew he shouldn’t, he fell into the kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck, his arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

“Come inside, Trevor.”

“I shouldn’t,” he murmured, but when her lips found his again, he was already moving towards the cabin. Telling her anything was long forgotten.
*

They lay in her bed tangled together. Trevor indulged himself and let his fingers roam the slope of her neck, the line of her collarbone.

It wasn’t regret that he felt wash over him, but something akin to it. Guilt was back, moving through him stronger than ever. Letting this happen had been just as bad as lying to her face.

“I hope you don’t think I was trying to take advantage of you.” They weren’t the words he really wanted to say, needed to say, but they were a start.

She laughed. Actually laughed. He wished he could join her, but he didn’t find himself feeling very amused.

“You’ve probably never taken advantage of anyone in your life, Trev. You’re too… decent. Besides, I kind of started it.”

“I’m… not so decent,” he replied, resting his chin on the top of her head. He just wanted to hold her there, avoid this, but it had to be done. Putting it off more was… selfish, wrong, mean.

She turned her head so that she looked up at him, her brows knit together. “What are you talking about? You’re like the most decent person I know, next to Em I guess.”
“Callie, I have to… tell you something. I… haven’t been… I’ve kept something… from you.” The words were hard to say, harder by the change on her face from confusion to suspicion.
She gathered the blanket around her and sat up. “What?” she demanded.

In the dark of her room, her expression was unreadable, but he could see her eyes. She probably had no idea how much that echo of loss lingered there, continuously, always. And even as it drew him to her, even as it made him second-guess his decision to tell, he knew he couldn’t listen to his heart.

“About a year ago I applied for the FBI.” The words came out in a quick stream. He had to get it out, like ripping off a Band-aid. “I’d mostly written it off because it had been so long, but, I got a response and they want me to come down to Texas for the first round of the interview process.”

She was silent and motionless, but her hand stayed tight on the sheet clutched at her chest.

“Callie-”

“When?”

“When?”

“When did you get the letter?” There was no malice in her voice, just a cool kind of… detachment.

There was the lie and there was the truth, and neither would serve him well. So, he had to go with the truth. “Three weeks ago… about.”

She slid out of the bed so quickly and almost soundlessly that he didn’t notice in time to stop her.

“So, before we ever slept together.”

“No… no, Callie. It was… a few days after that.”

“Uhuh.”

“Callie-”

“That’s still an awful long time to sleep with me and not tell me.” There wasn’t even accusation in her voice, just calm observation. He would have preferred the accusation.

“Yes, I just… Callie, I think we have something really special-”

“You know, it’s a really good thing.” She was further away from the bed now, as if slowly inching away from it, from him. He imagined she’d gotten dressed by now too. “I mean, this is obviously something you wanted.”

“I… well, it was always in the plans,” Trevor responded, not quite sure how to react to this strange… casualness. He found his jeans, pulled them on and stepped onto the floor.
“Really? You never mentioned it.” There was a little snap to that, and it made Trevor feel a little bit more at ease.

“I-”

“No, but it’s good.” She flipped on the light and Trevor winced, had to blink against the sudden brightness. “It’s for the best, probably.”

“For the best?”

“Yeah, I mean, we both knew this wasn’t going to last forever. Now there’s this… reason, and nobody has to get hurt.”

If he’d looked only at the blank expression on her face, he might have believed her. But, she had her arms wrapped around herself, and she kept her distance very purposefully.

“Callie, look, we don’t have to end things just because-”

“Don’t be stupid, Trevor.” She took a moment as if to regain that detached tone after the snipe. “I imagine the FBI isn’t exactly going to put you to work in rural Iowa.”

“No, but-”

“And, I’m not going anywhere. Even if this were… even if… well, I can’t leave AIF.”

“And I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“Then we have to end things, Trevor. Which is good, for the best.”

He crossed over the room to her, though she initially took a retreating step, before he took her arms in his hands, her chin came up as if she was determined to stand her ground.

“I don’t agree, and if you’d stop being so damn… you, you could… see that what we have is special.”

“Two weeks falling into bed together followed by an awkward evening with your parents and then you don’t call for a week isn’t exactly special.”

Temper flashed, had his rising to match it. “No, that isn’t, but what we have… well, there’s a lot more to it than that.”

“Listen-”

“No,” Trevor interrupted, resisting the urge to shake her. I-” There it was again. That feeling, that sentence that got clogged somewhere between heart and mind so that nothing came out. Nothing.

“Go home, Trevor. I want you to go.”

He’d fight it if he could, but he didn’t know what else to say, and he knew Callie well enough to know she wouldn’t listen. Not now, but that didn’t mean it was over.

“Fine, I’ll go home, but we’re not done talking about this.”

She gave him a smirk, knew she had no idea just how much hurt radiated in her eyes.

“Nothing left to talk about. Lock the door behind you.” And with that she walked over to her bathroom and closed the door, very calmly, behind her.

Trevor let out a long breath. Maybe she was right. Maybe… he just had to cut his losses… or rather, her losses.