May Contain Wine (SWAT Generation 2.0 5)

That last question I hadn’t meant to ask.

“You… I was still trying to figure everything out, Callie. I, fuck. I don’t know what I wanted back then. I knew that I wanted you. But I also knew that you still had a year left of high school. I wanted to go into the military, and I didn’t want to think about leaving you behind to worry about me while I did. It was fuckin’ selfish. I knew the moment that I did it that I shouldn’t have. I wanted to take it all back the moment that I saw your face and the impact my words had. And when I tried to, you wouldn’t even give me the time of day. I thought… ‘give her some time. She’ll cool off.’ Only you never fucking did. And every time I came home, you wouldn’t even look at me. You were pissed, justifiably, and everyone protected you from me. I couldn’t get near you. You blocked me. Ares blocked me. Your dad wouldn’t allow me to talk to you. I tried, God, so many times.”

I blinked at him. “You did?”

“Yeah,” he said. “And when I finally had the time, Zelle started to have all her problems. I didn’t want to add to your stress.”

Zelle was my baby sister. My baby sister that was a giant pain in the ass and had tried to pretty much kill herself in high school.

She was a year younger than me and had always been the baby of the family.

Then, when that had happened, Louis was right. Zelle was where all of our attention was focused. I wouldn’t have been able to deal with the ‘us.’

Zelle had spiraled downhill very quickly. She’d gotten herself into a spot of trouble that had ended with her being admitted to the psych ward for a twenty-four-hour hold. And now, five years later, she still resented us. Hell, it was like we weren’t even alive anymore with how she avoided us like the plague.

Honestly, all we’d been trying to do was help. And she hadn’t wanted help.

She still didn’t want help.

“I… that makes sense,” I said quietly. “Zelle’s a mess. Her whole thing was a mess. I’m still pissed about it all.”

“I imagine so,” he admitted. “I wish I could’ve been here to help. But yeah, I didn’t want to make it worse. And since y’all never talk about her anymore, I’m literally terrified to talk to you about her.”

“She’s in college now,” I said softly. “She’s a few weeks from graduating, actually.”

“I know,” he said. “I’ve kept an eye on her from afar, too. All of us have.”

I dropped my head. “Reagan won’t even talk about her.”

“That’s understandable,” he admitted. “Reagan was the one to take her to the hospital. She sees her as the bad guy.”

That was true.

Zelle needed help, and Reagan being the oldest and the only one there at the time that Zelle had tried to do the unthinkable, she’d taken her to the hospital where they’d put her on a psych hold. And Zelle nor Reagan had ever gotten over their animosity toward each other.

To the point where Zelle didn’t even know Reagan’s kids—or, at least, she pretended not to. I gave Zelle unwanted updates about Reagan and did the same to Reagan when it came to Zelle.

As did my parents.

My parents who were broken up that their family was still torn up all these years later.

“Needless to say,” Louis said, “after that happened, I was reluctant to add to your problems. I didn’t want you to have to worry about me, too. So I just… stayed away. And then I really just took the coward’s way out and waited. And waited. And waited. And then Malachi told me you were dating, and I realized I needed to get my head out of my ass.”

That’s when I burst out laughing. My head bounced against his chest where it rested, and I wondered if this was what it felt like—forgiving someone.

All of a sudden, I just wasn’t mad anymore.

Disappointed, yes. But mad? No.

“That date was a disaster,” I admitted. “You had nothing to worry about.”

“Really?” he said. “Because from where I’m standing, my heart still fuckin’ hurts from the idea that you’re out there dating someone.”

I leaned up and backed away, but before I could take more than a step backward, he stopped me.

He caught me by the front button of my jeans and tugged, trying to get me closer.

Instead, all he accomplished was getting my jeans to come undone, one button at a time. Pop-pop-pop-pop.

We both froze at my suddenly wide-open fly, him staring at me like he’d just committed the ultimate sin.

I wasn’t sure who moved first. Me or him.

But suddenly, I was in his arms, and his mouth was on mine. Our tongues were touching, and his hand was no longer just holding me by the waistband. He was pushing his hand down my pants.