I set my phone on the stage and look up at Callie. “I heard this the other day, and it reminded me of us. I figured it could be our new song—officially.”
Her pink lips stretch into a smile and her eyes shine on me. “I love it.”
I stand up and hold out my hands. “Dance with me, Callie.”
She comes quickly, eagerly, stepping into the circle of my arms, threading her hands behind my neck. We press close and rock together, turning slowly in the halo of the stage lights over our heads.
I gaze down into her eyes, breathing slow. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Dangerous,” she teases.
“Sexy,” I tease back, making her smile grow.
And then I basically crack open my chest and let her see my heart. The one that beat for her when we were kids, the soul that breathed just for her—and now does again.
“I know you’ll never ask me—so I’m just going to tell you. At the end of the year, when you go back to San Diego . . . I’m coming with you.”
She breathes in quickly, gasping.
“I’ll sell the house,” I tell her. “I’ll put my résumé together . . . find a teaching job in San Diego.”
Her face is all soft and tender. Her fingers toy with the hair at the back of my neck, and she swallows. “Garrett . . . you don’t have to do that.”
I touch her cheek, stroking down her jaw, as we rock together to the music.
“I’ve thought about it, turned it around in my head, trying to figure out a way that this will work. This is how. I don’t want to live across the country from you, Callie. And there’s no fucking way I’m letting you go . . .”
Slowly, she shakes her head, tears rising in her voice and her beautiful green eyes.
“You love this town.”
I nod softly. “Yeah, I do.”
“You love coaching this football team.”
“That’s true.”
One lone tear slips down her cheek.
“You love this school, these kids . . .”
“Also true.” I catch her tear with my thumb, wiping it away. “But you know what else is true?”
A hiccup shudders in her chest.
“What?”
“I love you more than all those things. That’s what I’ve realized this year, Callie—I can live in another town, teach at another school . . . I can live without coaching football if I have to.” I dip my head, leaning in closer. “I can’t live without you. Not anymore . . . not ever again.”
Callie’s face crumples, because my girl’s a crier. But I know, this time, they’re happy tears. She presses her forehead to mine.
“I didn’t want you to have to give up anything for me.”
“I’m not, baby. It doesn’t feel like I’m giving up a damn thing. I’m getting you . . . I’m getting the chance to build a life with you . . . and that’s all I really want.”
I kiss her lips, tasting the warm salt of her tears. My arms squeeze tighter and her hands grasp my shoulders, clasping us together.
“The way I see it, I've been living my dream job for the last thirteen years. But you’re just getting your shot at yours. And I want you to take it, Callie. I want to watch you and love you and be there, while all your dreams come true.”
Big, diamond tears spill from her eyes, and she smiles so big at me. Like I’m the only thing she sees, the only thing that matters. And, Christ, that’s a rush. I feel drunk . . . dizzy on her happiness.
“I want that, Garrett. I want you to come with me. I want to live with you, love you, every day until forever. I want that more than I have ever wanted anything in my whole life.”
I brush her cheeks again, wiping away all her tears, and I kiss her lips.
“Then you got it, Callie.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Garrett
“I can’t believe you’re not going to be teaching here next year. My whole graduation aesthetic is totally destroyed,” Nancy whines, tapping on her phone.
In the weeks after opening night, word gets around town pretty fast about my and Callie’s moving plans. It doesn’t go over well with the kids.
“This blows. Who’s gonna keep us in line?” Reefer asks.
I point at him from my desk chair. “You’re going to keep yourselves in line.”
“Yeah, right,” he scoffs, “like that’ll happen.”
“I don’t have to worry about that.” David Burke smirks. “Miss McCarthy’s so far up my ass it’s a wonder I can stand up straight.”
And I can tell by the way he says it that he really doesn’t mind at all. Kids are complicated little bastards. They may revolt and push back against it, but deep down, even if they don’t realize it, they want to be watched over.
“Who’s gonna give a shit about us?” Dugan asks.
“Every teacher in this building cares about you guys.”