Fucking hell, what was I thinking?
Callie darts in and grabs his sleeve, blurting repeated objections as he tries to take another swing. He’s a wiry ginger with a short beard, and I dimly wonder whether it was the beard she liked all along, because he’s kind of a wimpy fuck.
She manages to grab hold of his wrist before he can land a real punch and he whirls, flinging his arm out as he moves. The back of his hand connects with Callie’s jaw and she reels, stunned.
I don’t give a shit that he looks surprised, or even a little bit sorry for accidentally striking her. I dive for him again and tackle him to the floor with a roar. I’d love to pound his face into a pulp, but her voice echoes inside my head, so I manage to rein in my rage just enough for her sake. Instead I press my forearm to his throat as I bend down close and growl my warning right into his ear.
“You don’t deserve to kiss the goddamn soles of her shoes, asshole.”
He only blinks up at me in utter shock and doesn’t move until I stand, at which point he crab walks away before scrambling to his feet and darting toward the exit.
Just as he reaches the doors, two uniformed security guards enter. Seeing them, Barnaby finds the courage to look pissed for the first time and crosses his arms. “Get him the fuck out of here,” he demands.
Both security guards eye him, then look at Callie, who is still cradling her bruised cheek. Fresh rage threatens to bubble up at the blood smeared at one corner of her mouth. “Is everything okay, ma’am?” one asks as the other narrows his eyes at me and sizes me up suspiciously.
“I’m fine,” Callie says.
“He attacked me unprovoked!” Barnaby insists, pointing at me. To my surprise, Callie’s the one who answers.
“Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing and why, Barnaby. You know you deserved it.”
Barnaby’s eyes widen in shock. “I deserved it? You were the one who just got caught cheating on me with that asshole!”
I clench my fists so hard my knuckles crack and take a step forward, ready to go through the two burly guards to get to the motherfucker. Callie closes the distance before I can move, jabbing her index finger at him.
“You are the cheater, and you know it. Who the fuck were you meeting in Aspen last week, Barnaby? Huh? I broke up with you when I found out, or were you too dense to grasp what ‘it’s over’ means?”
“Your objections to our arrangement don’t carry a lot of weight when I catch you with another man.”
“Oh my god!” Callie exclaims. “Will you listen to yourself? We never had an arrangement! You cheated. I dumped you. End of fucking story. Or did you assume that just because I was a thousand miles away that gave you the freedom to fuck around?”
She waves her hand at him and looks at one of the guards, who still seems undecided about how to proceed. “Go ahead. Ask him if he was fucking someone else while engaged to me.”
The guard she spoke to crosses his arms and lifts an eyebrow at Barnaby. The other one purses his lips, clearly not as interested in drawing out the scene any longer.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. The two of you are being disruptive, and we have patients to consider. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” He turns to Barnaby. “You too, Dr. Chapman. If you have business on this floor, perhaps come back a little later.”
Barnaby directs a glare at Callie. “I want the ring back.”
“You want what?” she asks.
“The engagement ring I gave you. I want it back.”
I nearly laugh, recalling the cheap little object I came across in her purse. Callie just huffs and turns, stomping back to Wyatt’s room while I stare down the three men. She returns a second later and shoves my coat at me, then fishes into her purse and flings something at Barnaby. The shining silver object smacks against his bloody chin before pinging onto the floor.
“There’s your fucking ring, asshole.”
Then she turns and heads the other direction toward the exit sign over one of the stairwells. I follow a second later, giving an apologetic shrug to Nina and Booth through the door of his room as I pass by. Both of them wave, though it’s clear they’re more amused by the drama than disappointed in our departure.
When I catch up to Callie, she’s almost at the ground floor and barely acknowledges me as she pushes through the door out into the chilly winter evening. She stalks to a bench near the hospital entrance and parks herself there, staring down at her phone, breath coming out in little white puffs.
“That was pretty epic,” I say, huddling into my coat with my hands stuffed into my pockets. When she just scowls at me, I reevaluate the mood, then replay the entire scenario and conclude that celebration is probably not in order.
My own behavior catches up to me again after the rush of victory over seeing her stand up for herself against her asshole ex, and I sigh as I sit down beside her. “I’m really sorry about that. Not sorry for wanting to punch the bastard, but sorry I actually did.”
She doesn’t respond, and the longer the silence between us stretches, the worse I feel.
Our ride arrives and we climb into the back seat without a word. I can’t even look at her, I’m so goddamn ashamed of myself, and it’s no wonder she’s refusing to look at me, much less speak to me.
When we reach her apartment door and she steps inside, I pause at the threshold. Hands braced on either side of the doorjamb, I stare in after her, anguish climbing its way up my chest with razor sharp claws.
“I should just get my things and go back to the hotel.”
She’s hanging up her
