I understood. Callie wasn’t going to step foot in my life, in my kid's life, until I was one hundred percent fully over Sheri. I didn’t want any feeling of shame to touch the way I felt about our friendship. And then, the other night she just told me to stay away, when all I wanted to do was be the one to stop her from crying. I wanted to be the person who made her smile again. But she was right. We were getting too close, and I started wanting and saying things I was not entitled to want or say.
“Honestly, I’m just trying to keep her out of my head right now,” I mumbled.
"Callie's got a lot of her own demons she's dealing with," Max grunted across from me. "A lot of loss in her life, so she keeps everyone at arm's length." He looked at his wife and shrugged. "I'm going to have a talk with her soon. Rumor has it, she’s been making stupid choices, and it’s catching up to her at work.”
Fire ripped across my collarbone. I didn't want to think about the bad decisions Callie Ward was making, but each night when I saw a different car parked in front of her house, I was faced with them. When she told me to stay away and take care of my wife, it was a cold, hard slap in the face. I wanted to be the one, the only one she made bad decisions with, but I was already married to a woman whose bad decisions cost me everything. I was stuck on the outside, watching both of them crash and burn.
"She's not in any trouble, is she?" I needed to know what was happening. Was it stupid choices with men, or was she doing stupid, dangerous things at work? And how was I supposed to ask the question without looking like a man obsessed?
Out in the living room, the doorbell rang, and Max's oldest daughter ran to see who was there. Max ignored it. He was too busy watching me. I scratched at my chin nonchalantly. What was it about cops that make people nervous? It was like he wasn’t just looking at me, he was staring at my soul, and he knew all my sins. Could he write me a ticket for crushing on my neighbor while my wife was in rehab?
Suddenly, Addison was squealing, and that's when I knew who rang the doorbell. I felt her before she even walked in the room. Her presence was all warmth and wildflowers, tied up in a bow of raspy laughter and hellos.
I sat frozen, my back to the entrance of the room, balling my fists in my lap. Across from me, Max smirked.
"Uh huh," he rumbled. "Saw that reaction a mile away.”
I heard her shifting around behind me—the rustle of her jacket—the click of her shoes. The sounds crawled up my spine, nipping at the hairs on the nape of my neck.
“I don’t want to interrupt. I just wanted to give you these,” she said, handing Max a large manila envelope.
"Sit your ass down and stay for dinner. I made lasagna, and it'll be ready in five minutes," Laura said, pulling plates and silverware out of cabinets and drawers.
“Oh, thank you, but I should go.”
I was up instantly, rushing past her and blocking her way, bracing my hand on the counter so she couldn’t pass.
“You should stay,” I growled. I lost my damn mind.
Callie’s eyes widened as they traveled up my frame to find my glare looming in front of her. Steel gray eyes stared back at me, leveling me with their intensity.
“You think I won’t go right through you?” she warned.
I should have backed away, ended it right there and then, letting her leave. But I couldn’t.
“I think you already have,” I whispered.
Her gaze dropped to the floor immediately. Her lower lip trembled, and the way she looked so vulnerable, for just the moment, caught me in the throat. Was she hurt? I'd hurt her in some way, and I didn't understand it.
"Addison misses you," I stammered, trying of think of something to make her stay. "She keeps asking for you."
Addison came in then, dancing around her and grabbing hold of her hand. "Sit next to Riley and me and Emma!"
Callie’s expression was torn, but I knew she’d stay, she’d do anything to make Addison happy. She gave Addison a breathy little laugh and sighed. “Okay, Addison, okay.” She slid her arms out of her coat and hung it over the nearest chair. “Come on, then,” she said softly, taking my daughter’s hand. “Let’s help Laura set the table.”
I watched her like a starving man; setting the table, laughing with Addison, tickling Ben, eating, and avoiding contact with me at all costs. I bet to everyone else around the table, I was an obvious drooling fool.
Over ice cream dessert, she shot her eyes up at me for a split second, and when she noticed I was already staring back, her cheeks darkened and her jaw locked down tight. She slowly took her napkin and wiped at her lips. Her eyes peeked up to mine once more.
“Stop it,” she whispered.
“No,” I said, smiling back.
“Asshole,” she mouthed, without making a sound.
Next to her, Addison sat with melted ice cream dripping down her chin and neck. As soon at Callie noticed the mess Addison had made, she grabbed some more napkins and gently cleaned her face. All I could do was watch as some other woman who wasn’t Sheri took care of our daughter better than she ever had. From the patience and giggles of the mess, taking a picture of how cute she looked, to her gentle touch against her cheeks, she was everything a mother should be.
I wondered if Callie ever thought about it—her wanting a child so badly and couldn't have one, and Sheri, who got knocked up twice and couldn't bear to look at them without needing to get high. The thought made me sick.
Or was I the one who was sick? What if I was so hurt by the things Sheri did, I just selfishly replaced my feelings for Sheri with feelings for Callie? What if Sheri came back home happy and healthy and wanted her family together again? I watched Callie put dishes in the sink and dance around the kitchen with Addison and Max’s daughters.
One of them started a conversation about some television show, and suddenly I felt like I was outside a fish bowl looking in. I wanted in the fish bowl. I wanted a happy family. I wanted to be part of this one.
Callie eventually looked down at her phone and grabbed her coat. "I really need to get out of here." She wrapped her arms around Laura in a tight hug, and they stayed locked together for a few moments. "Thank you so much. Everything was delicious." Then she hugged the kids, giving Addison an extra-long squeeze.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” my mouth said, as if possessed by some demonic horny teenager. What did I think would happen when I got her to the car?
“No,” she laughed nervously, “you don’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I’m going to,” I said, sliding out of my chair and helping her put her coat on.
We walked out in silence; both of us jogging down the front steps, the white mist of our breaths puffing out before us. She walked briskly, a step ahead of me, and spun on her heels as soon as we reached the door to her car.
“Whatever you’re doing, please stop.”
"You really want me to stop?" I argued. She hesitated, the smallest bit, and I stopped her from talking by putting my finger against her lips. "Addison asks about you every day. Please just come over once in a while, just to see her?"
She sighed and leaned her back against the driver's side door. "You're playing up the whole ‘Addison misses you’ bullshit. It's pretty cheap."
“I’m pretty desperate.” I tried to sound flirty, but desperation was plainly what it was.
“What the hell do you want from me, Dylan? You want to fuck me? Fine. Let's just fuck." She yanked her keys out of her bag and clicked the car open. The keys fumbled to the ground, and she swiped them up and swung the door open all at once. Her face was dark and distraught. “Go ahead, get in.” She banged an open palm on the roof of her car. “I’ll give you twenty minutes to get me out of your system!”
An instant rush of hot electricity screamed up my spine. I flinched back as if she slapped me. That’s all she thought I wanted?
“You think I want to fuck you?” I raged.
Her entire body stilled, her eyes, big and round, flashed up to mine.
&nb
sp; “That’s all you think you’re worth to anyone? To me? To my kids?” I slowly stepped closer to her, closing the small space between us. “You saved both my children that night. You brought in your own team of superheroes and saved Sheri’s life. Then you saved mine." I pushed my arms out on either side of her and clenched my fists around the top edge of the car. "Do I think you're beautiful? Yes. Do I believe you're sexy? Yes, God forgive me, I do. But what I think about you most is how you deserve to be happy and loved and for once in your life cherished and worshiped.” I took a shaky breath, my eyes glaring into hers. “Do I want that person to be me? I would give anything to be able to fill that position, but I wouldn’t be able to give you all of me. God, Callie, you deserve all of someone. You deserve so much more than you give yourself. And to my children and me, it's an honor to have you in our lives."
Chapter 19
Callie
A pile of folders slammed down hard on my desk, and I jumped up in my chair, stunned, splashing my coffee over the rim of its cup and my hand.
"Damn it!" I yelped, feeling the heat of the drink bite on my skin.
“What is with you today?” Ryan asked, slapping more files and a ream of paper onto my desk. He plucked a handful of tissues out of a box I kept on one of the shelves and shoved them at me. “You’re jumpy. That’s the third time you’ve spilled something today.”
He was right, of course. My blazer looked like it went to war and lost.
“I’m fine,” I mumbled, wiping up the mess I made.
“Something’s up your ass,” Ryan said, sitting in one of the seats adjacent to mine and folding his hands together in his lap, ready to listen. “I’m all ears,” he said, searching my face with his sharp eyes.
“All ears? Try mostly all dick,” I said, trying my best to put on a carefree smile.
“Nice burn,” he laughed, leaning back in the chair. “Now tell me what’s going on.”
“Nothing is going on,” I said, keeping an even tone to my voice. “Honestly.”
I felt horrible lying to him. Heat flooded my cheeks, and I stared down at my hands, pretending I was still cleaning them. The thing was, everything was going on. I got all weird with Dylan the night before when he walked me to my car—I made a fool of myself in front of him—and he surprised the hell out of me by telling me no. Humiliated, I rushed into my car and left without saying another word to him, hating myself more than ever. I was angry he made me stay for dinner, embarrassed he didn’t want me, and furious at myself that I felt things for this person I barely knew.
Okay, so Dylan and I had mutual feelings for one another. We both felt something a little bit more than we should. That was it. So why couldn't we just stay away from each other until it passed? Treat it like the flu, and we'd get better in a few days.
Then he texted me this morning, asking me to come by for dinner and games with the kids. Addison learned how to play Candy Land at daycare and was obsessed with it. How was I supposed to say no to that? I didn’t even want to say no! I wanted to go there and play the stupid game and eat his stupid dinner and feel the stupid feelings I was having for him.
None of it made sense to me.
All of a sudden, the things that were typical behaviors for me seemed all wrong. I didn't want them anymore, and it was terrifying to me.
I looked up at Ryan, who was leaning his elbows on my desk, observing me. I was going to need to come up with something to tell him, just to shut him up—but he wasn't stupid—he'd probably know I was lying.
"Pop-Tart, are you doing that arguing with yourself in your own head thing?" His smile softened, and he leaned his head in the palm of his hand. "It's cute the way you think you could try to come up with some bullshit problem and I wouldn't know."
"I hate you. You know that, right?" I scowled.
Ryan lifted his head and searched the office with his eyes. “Come on. There’s nobody else here. Tell me what’s going on.”
I dropped my head in my hands and groaned.
I haven’t had an orgasm in weeks.
Can’t stop thinking about a married man.
Can’t stop thinking about his children.
Can’t stop thinking about his wife.
And I've been trying to screw everyone else to get my mind off this family, but it's making me feel like a worthless whore. And he told me I was worth more. And that right there makes my knees weak and my heart pulse wildly in the base of my throat—it makes me want things I never believed I could ever have.
Ryan reached across the mess of my desk and covered my hand with his. “It’s still about Dylan, isn’t it?”
I blinked up at him, fighting to keep my lips from sharing my secrets. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That doesn’t make it go away, though,” he said, squeezing my hand.
I chewed on my lip and stared at him.
“Did anything happen between the both of you?” he asked.
“No!” I snapped, agitated. “He’s married. His wife is in rehab, and he’s—” I couldn’t finish the statement. I didn’t know what he was or what he thought, save for the bit about he’d want to give me all of him because I deserved to be worshiped and cherished.
"A man? And he's going through something horrible with his wife, and you were there to help him through it. You're spending time together. Everything is fun and stress-free. You both start feeling things, natural things…” He shifted closer to me, practically laying his entire body over my desk. “But when his wife comes back, where will that leave you?”
I nodded.
“Has he come on to you? Said things like his wife would never find out.”
My head snapped up. God, I must have looked wild. "No. See, that's what the problem is, Ryan. That's the part you got wrong. He told me that I was worth more. That he wouldn't touch me because he couldn't give all of himself to me, and I deserved to be with someone who could."
Ryan leaned back, a curious look on his face. "Really?"
“I practically threw myself at him last night. Told him I’d fuck him in the back of my car.”
His eyes widened. “And?”
“And he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t touch me.”
“So what did you do?”
I stood up, thinking about what I did after, then rubbed my sweaty hands down my slacks. I thought about the silent drive home and the echo of his words, and feeling, for the first time since I lost my child, maybe I was worthy of more than I was giving myself.
“I went home alone. And I felt fucking beautiful, and strong, and worthy. Then I got drunk.”
I had bought a bottle of Merlot, and it sat on the kitchen counter almost empty as we finished our sixth game of Candy Land. Addison was crowned grand champion, winning all but one game, and she hooted and danced around with tired eyes and exhausted limbs.
"It's thirty minutes past bedtime, how about a story and a tuck-in?" Dylan had bathed her right after dessert, since she'd gotten my homemade pudding pie caked in her hair somehow. Afterward, we sat on the floor around the coffee table and played game after game, laughing endlessly. It was kind of perfect.
“Can you tell me the story about the princess who saved the castle?” she asked with a yawn.
Dylan smiled up at me. “Thanks,” he mouthed.
Despite Ryan’s pleas for me to stay away from temptation, I still went to Dylan’s house for dinner. I was a glutton for punishment. But I had a plan: keep looking down at his wedding ring, spend time with the kids, not him, and leave early.
I was fine until I realized his ring finger was bare. I stared down at it all through dinner, wanting to ask about it but never finding the right time where Addison wouldn’t hear. Did something happen with Sheri I didn’t know about? I looked away the minute he caught me looking, trying to remember my plan for the night. Look at ring, play with kids, leave. I didn't take a bare finger into account; it messed with my head.
It didn’t help at all that he smiled stupidly at me whenever he caught me gl
ancing at his hand. I was compulsive about it, too, hoping each time it would miraculously appear there, a visible boundary for my questionable morals to bounce off.
Once she was tucked into bed, Addison fell asleep instantly. I didn’t even reach the part of the story where I needed to come up with the princess’ name, which was when she'd always chime in with her opinions. I just spoke slowly, and her eyelids lowered and lowered, then she was out. I leaned over her bed and pecked a kiss to her forehead, whispering a goodnight.
“Is she asleep already?” Dylan asked as I stepped out into the hallway in front of her bedroom door.
“Yep. I think she was sleeping before her head even hit the pillow,” I whispered. “Ben’s asleep, too?”
“Yeah,” he whispered back.
His eyes lingered on mine, as he leaned his shoulder against the wall, hands shoved deep in his front pockets. He looked gorgeous, like some model on the cover of a magazine. I had to tear my eyes off him, doing so with much effort, then walked past him.
"Why aren't you wearing your wedding ring?" I asked as I reached the kitchen.
I stopped walking and looked back at him, waiting for an answer. He looked lost, and I wanted so badly to run back to him and wrap my arms around his massive, bulky frame and hold him. But before I could humiliate myself again, I scrubbed my hands over my face and hair and pushed myself into the kitchen.
“Never mind, I don’t want to know,” I mumbled.
Being that close to him and the kids was making me crazy. I shouldn’t be here any longer—it was too easy to slip myself into the role of mother and wife—I longed for that in my life so much. I just needed to leave, and I'd be okay.
Dylan rushed in after me, his mouth parted, words and sounds fumbling out. “It feels too heavy. I’m aware of it constantly, when I never was before.”
I nodded my head, pretending to understand, and walked over to the chair I slung my coat around when I arrived and grabbed it in a tight fist. I scrambled through the pockets and pulled my phone out to check for messages. I had a few from Ryan, Max, and even one from Vince from narcotics.
Finding Love (Behind Blue Lines Book 3) Page 13
