actually see her drawing her walls around her. It was slightly terrifying to watch. The girl had lost the shine of innocence that she’d had only last night. Now there was a hardened, brittle feel to her that made Callie’s heart ache.
In this world, everyone had to grow up sometime, but she hated that this happened to any of them—especially to the starry-eyed girl who’d danced and laughed and had the time of her life just twelve short hours ago.
She followed Keira through the house, taking in the dark woods and deep green on the walls. This place practically screamed masculine power, and the feeling of being swallowed whole came back with a vengeance. This was the place Teague had grown up in? She couldn’t begin to imagine children playing in these halls, or getting into the kinds of trouble that only young kids seemed to find. It was all so…uptight.
Her home was a similar size, but aside from Papa’s office and the single room they kept spotless to receive important guests, it felt more lived in. Comfortable. It was the kind of place where a person could prop their feet up and relax. Exactly the opposite of this place. She glanced down at the floor, half-sure she’d tracked dirt all over the spotless wood floors.
She was focusing on the house so she didn’t have to think about the scene she was going to walk into. She knew that. It was easier dealing with the decorating than with what was coming. Teague’s brother…Old hurt rose, no less potent for the months that had passed. Oh, Ronan. She knew all too well what the people in this house were feeling right now, and there was a very large part of her that wanted to turn on her heel and get out of here as fast as she could run. She didn’t want the memories, didn’t want the grief, didn’t want the tears.
But Teague needed her.
She lifted her chin and kept her steps steady as they turned a corner and approached a pair of double doors. Raised male voices gave her pause. She recognized Teague’s, even through the fury and pain it held. “This is what you wanted, Aiden. War. Are you happy now?”
“This isn’t what I wanted.” This voice was quieter, but no less full of poisonous emotions. “This was never what I wanted.”
“That’s what war is. Death of the people you care about. I swear to God—”
Keira opened the door. The room was large with soulless—and no doubt horrendously expensive—art covering the walls and a carefully arranged set of white couches dominating the space. Not that anyone except Sloan was currently utilizing the furniture. She sat with her knees pulled to her chest, her gaze a thousand miles away. There was another man—a brother if his similarities to Aiden were any sign—standing well back, a bottle of what looked like whiskey in his hands.
And there was Teague, standing toe to toe with his older brother and looking ready to go several rounds. He stopped when he saw her, his dark eyes containing so much pain, she was helpless to resist going to him. She stepped into the room, and glanced over her shoulder to keep Micah and his partner out. He nodded, though he didn’t look happy about it. Callie turned back to find Teague directly in front of her.
She reached out to touch him, but hesitated. He didn’t appear as brittle as Keira, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t. Before she could decide whether to make contact or not, he took her hand and pulled her into his arms.
“You’re here.”
She hugged him like he’d fly apart if she let go. “I’m here.”
He stepped back, but took hold of her hand. “Aiden, we’re not done.”
The man he’d looked about ready to come to blows with dropped onto the couch across from Sloan. “I figured.”
Teague nodded and led her out of the room. He didn’t say a single thing as they passed through yet more halls, finally climbing a narrow set of stairs and slipping into a room that must be his. She didn’t get much chance to look around, because he shut the door and then she was back in his arms, his hold so tight, she thought she heard her ribs creak. “What can I do?”
“Just hold me.” His voice was thick against her temple. “I need a few minutes.”
“Okay.” She could do that. Words wouldn’t do a single thing, but if this gave him any kind of comfort,