Second Chance His Unending Love (Calista Hartwell) novel Chapter 126

Chapter 126

A slow nod was Evander’s only reply. “Years of this. It’s

routine now.”

For Calista, however, there was nothing routine about it.

After hearing the gritty details of his work up close was a first, a stark reality check. If someone of his rank still took to the field personally, the target organization must be formidable indeed.

“Just come back to us safely. Olivia and I will be right here, waiting,” she urged, her soft features etched with a seriousness that pinched her elegant brows.

The sudden, powerful urge to cradle her face and lose himself in a kiss swept over Evander—a moment suspended, timeless.

But the insistent buzz from his pocket shattered the impulse. Duty, relentless, summoned him away.

Collecting the file, he reached out, his calloused fingertips -a lifetime of training etched into his skin-grazing her qheek with surprising tenderness.

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A tightness seized Calista’s chest, her eyes welling.

“If you miss me, send a word. I may not answer, but knowing you’re thinking of me… it’ll be one more reason to fight my way back home.” Evander’s voice dropped, intimate and low.

She managed a firm nod, holding her emotions in check.

“I will.”

For a long moment, his eyes held hers, a world of unspoken words passing between them.

Then Evander bent, his lips brushing not her skin, but his own knuckles resting against her cheek-a stolen, poignant kiss.

Just as quickly, he was gone, the study door swallowing his retreating form.

Alone, Calista remained, her hand rising to her cheek where his touch lingered like a brand.

Her gaze stayed fixed on the empty doorway.

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“I’ll be here, Evander. Come home,” she murmured.

The grand villa lapsed back into a hollow quiet.

Alisa, too, seemed affected by the shift in atmosphere, her usual composure replaced by a subdued restlessness. /

Seeking to bridge the silence, she slipped into the role of steadying presence.

Alisa offered, her tone gentle but assured, “Try not to fret, Ms. Hartwell. Mr. Hayes is the best there is. He knows how to handle himself. At his level now, he’s likely coordinating, not in the direct line of fire like before.” A faint, reminiscent smile touched her lips. “Believe me, I’ve seen him return in far worse shape-bloodied and battered. He always pulls through.”

The attempt at comfort, however, only twisted the knot of worry tighter in Calista’s heart.

“Bloodied…” Calista echoed, the word tasting of fear.

“Yes. His own, others’… He’s stared down death more times than I care to count. Luck, or sheer will, has always fayored him.” Alisa’s voice softened further, clouded by a

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private grief. “Not all are so blessed. My own son… his luck ran out on a raid years ago.”

Alisa’s quiet confession landed with the weight of a solemn bell, resonating deep within Calista’s core.

For those like Evander, the quiet rhythm of ordinary life-the slow journey into old age, illness, and a final, peaceful rest-often gave way to a harsher reality.

It could end on a mission or vanish into the sudden

silence of an otherwise unremarkable afternoon.

This realization gripped Calista with a tangible force, a tightness seizing her heart as if squeezed by an unseen hand.

She reached out, taking Alisa’s hand in her own. Her voice softened, thick with feeling. “Alisa, your son was a hero,” she murmured.

Alisa dabbed a teary eye with her handkerchief, a sigh escaping her that carried a weight beyond its sound.

“My greatest regret is the time I didn’t spend with him. Not enough conversations, not enough of his favorite 5:59

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meals on the table. If I’d known that last goodbye was truly the last… I wouldn’t have wasted a single second on anything but love.”

Silence settled between them. Calista searched for words of comfort but found none. Losing a child, especially

in one’s later years, was a grief that defied language, a sorrow no platitude could reach.

All she could offer was a gentle, steadying touch on Alisa’s

back.

After a long moment, Alisa’s tone shifted. The raw edge of sorrow softened, replaced by a calm, almost motherly resolve as she turned her gaze fully on Calista.

“Ms. Hartwell, remember this. Every moment with someone precious is a gift, and with each one, the chances grow fewer. Cherish the person right in front of you.”

It was a subtle, perfectly aimed nudge in Evander’s direction, and it struck its mark.

Calista was moved.

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At forty-two, she had brushed against life’s fragility herself.

How many decades did she truly have left?

It was time-for her own sake, and for the future she might yet build-to think seriously.

“Thank you, Alisa. I know what I need to do,” she said, her voice gaining a quiet conviction.

Alisa offered only a satisfied nod in reply, though inwardly, she allowed herself a quiet pulse of triumph.

Mission accomplished.

*****

Long before the first light of dawn touched the sky, Calista roused her daughter. Together, they drove through the sleeping darkness toward the foothills of St. Mary’s Church, their purpose a shared prayer for Evander’s safety.

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