Stolen Identity: Mute Heiress

Chapter 307: Fierce And Pretty

Emily hurried to catch up with Callan as he walked briskly toward the elevator.

"Cal, wait!" she called out, her voice soft and breathless.

He slowed down when he heard her voice and turned his head slightly. When she reached him, she was breathing lightly from the quick steps. "Callan," she said, "what are you doing? Where are you going?"

He stopped and turned fully to her. His blue eyes looked tired. "Home. Why?"

Her brows knit together. "Why are you asking me that?" she asked. "You said you were going to drop me off. Did you forget?"

"But you didn’t want me to, remember?" He retorted.

She raised a brow. "Did you forget that you told my dad you would?" she asked. "But if you’ve changed your mind, it’s fine. I can take a cab. You don’t have to worry," she said with a shrug and started to walk past him.

He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Fine. Wait. I’ll take you home," he said finally, his voice lower now.

Emily hid her smile. "Alright then," she said as she turned to him again. "But we’ll need to get my bag first."

They walked to the doctor’s lounge together. Callan said nothing, and Emily didn’t push. When they reached the lounge, she exchanged pleasantries with those who were there, then Callan picked up her backpack, slinging it over his shoulder before she could.

When they got to the car, Emily paused beside the passenger door and looked at him as he put her bag in the backseat. "Are you sure you’re in the right state of mind to drive?" she asked softly. "Or should I?"

He paused and glanced at her. "Why wouldn’t I be in the state of mind to drive?" he asked as he straightened and shut the door. "Who’s dropping who off here? Are you dropping me home or am I dropping you off?"

She crossed her arms and tilted her head. "Considering all that has happened, I won’t blame you if you’re unable to drive. I could drive us to my place, then you can take the car and drive yourself home," she said matter-of-factly.

He rolled his eyes and let out a soft groan. "Just get in the car, Emily," he said, holding out her door.

She shook her head slightly but obeyed. As he went around the car to get into the driver’s seat, she turned in her seat to look at him. His jaw was tight and the usual easy playfulness was gone from his eyes.

He got into the car and as he put on his seatbelt, she cleared her throat.

"Cal," she said gently before he could start the engine. "How are you really feeling?"

He looked at her for a moment, then away. "I’m fine," he murmured.

She shook her head. "You didn’t look fine earlier. You seemed like you were having a panic attack earlier and the sudden switch... I don’t know what to make of it."

He raised a brow. "Why are you talking to me now, Princess? Are you being this way because you suddenly feel sorry for me? Because earlier, you didn’t seem like you wanted to talk to me at all."

Her expression hardened. "If you’re going to put up your defensive jerk act and avoid answering my questions as usual, then just forget it and drive me home, Cal. I’m not in the mood and neither do I have the energy to beg a grown-ass man to communicate."

The car was silent for a moment. Then Callan turned the key and started the engine. The low sound of the engine filled the air between them.

Emily turned her face toward the window, her heart thudding with disappointment. She had hoped that things had changed a little between them and he’d be a little more open and honest with her now.

Callan knew he should say something, but he didn’t want to speak until he’d gathered his thoughts, and pride wouldn’t let Emily say another word to him, so they both stayed silent.

When they reached her family house, Callan parked in front of the building. Before she could reach for the door handle, his voice came, low and apologetic. "I’m sorry."

Slowly, she turned to face him, her gray eyes flashing angrily. "Your apology stopped meaning anything to me a long time ago, so you can save it. Do us both a favour and quit acting like you care about how your behaviour makes me feel," she said, trying hard not to yell, her voice trembling with anger.

She tried to open the door, but his hand came up, gently holding her arm. Her hand froze on the doorknob.

She turned to him, glaring at him. "Get your hands off me."

His grip didn’t tighten, but he didn’t release her either. "Listen, Em, it’s hard for me to talk to you," he said, his voice rough but honest. "Because what you think of me... it matters more than you will ever know. And even when I don’t mean to, I get defensive. Especially when it’s a serious subject. I really do care about how my behaviour makes you feel, so it’s not an act."

Her glare softened a little, confusion flickering across her eyes as she looked at him. "What’s so hard to talk about that you have to be so defensive all the time?"

"I want to open up to you," he continued, his voice cracking slightly, "honestly, I planned to tell you about some things, and that was the reason I asked that we hang out together. When you asked about what happened earlier, I wanted to tell you, but somehow I opened my mouth and that came out instead. It just feels like I can’t be myself with you. You’re sweet, kind and innocent, and I’m nothing like you. And I guess a part of me is just afraid that when you see me for what I am, you’d run in the opposite direction."

Hearing the frustration and raw truth in his tone, Emily’s heart squeezed. She looked at him quietly for a few seconds before saying softly, "I’d never judge you, Callan. No matter what you tell me."

Callan’s lips twitched with a crooked smile. "That’s because you’re Miss Goody Two Shoes."

She scowled at him. "Are you trying to annoy me right now?"

He smiled again, an actual one this time, small and warm. "Maybe. I kind of like it when you’re annoyed," he said softly. "You look fierce and pretty. Especially your eyes."

Her heart skipped a beat. She looked away quickly, telling herself it wasn’t a big deal. "Don’t say things like that."

Seeing her reaction, he leaned slightly closer. "Things like what?"

"Things that sound like you see me as more than just your little cousin," she said quietly.

He stared at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. "I’ve never really seen you as my little cousin," he said, then before she could ask what he meant, he asked, "Will you hang out with me before you leave? After you’ve rested? I want us to talk."

"About?"

"About my nightmares. And other things."

She hesitated, studying him. "That depends."

"On what?"

"On your honesty right now."

He frowned slightly. "About what?"

"About how you really feel about his death," she said softly.

He looked away. For a moment, he said nothing. Then he sighed deeply. "Ask me that when we meet," he said. "I’m not sure I have an honest answer yet."

"Are you sad?" she asked gently.

He shook his head slowly. "No," he said after a pause. "But I’m... upset. I’m angry that he’d rather end his life than face what he did. I’m disappointed that he chose to leave instead of trying to make things right and have a relationship with me. The selfishness of it hurts a little."

Emily nodded slowly, her chest heavy with sympathy. "Do you need a hug?" she asked softly.

He turned to her, meeting her eyes, and shook his head. "That’s the least of what I want from you," he said quietly.

Something in the way he said it made her heart skip again. There was no mockery in his voice, just quiet longing.

She swallowed hard, unsure what he meant, but she didn’t ask. She was afraid to ask what else he wanted.

For a moment, they just sat there, staring at each other in silence. The air in the car felt charged in a way that scared and thrilled her all at once.

Then the front door of the house opened, breaking the spell.

Emily’s younger siblings came running out, shouting her name. "Emmy! You’re home!"

Emily’s lips curved into a small smile as she turned towards them and opened the door. She looked back at Callan, her tone softer now. "I guess we’ll see tomorrow," she said, getting out of the car, as her five younger ones surrounded her.

She lifted the youngest, and the others squealed when Callan got out of the car and they ran over to embrace him.

He laughed, embracing them and ruffling their hair. "Hey, troublemakers."

Emily smiled quietly, watching as he played with them for a few moments, tickling and teasing them like he always used to.

When he finally was ready to leave, he took out her backpack from the car and escorted them to the door.

He looked at her again. "So... see you tomorrow?"

She smiled faintly. "Yes. Thanks for bringing me home. And for talking to me. And for promising to talk more. This is the most open you’ve been with me since I’ve known you."

He gave a small nod, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly before he turned and walked back to his car.

Emily stood there, her youngest sibling in her arms, watching as he drove away.

She felt a strange ache in her chest when his car finally disappeared and as she walked into the house she wondered why he’d looked at her that way in the car.

She wondered, with a quiet mix of hope and fear, if she was being foolish to think that maybe... just maybe... something good could still happen between them.