by Nicole Helm
The laugh bubbled up past all the frustration and anger. Though the pit was still in her stomach, the edges around it were lighter. “I forgot about that one.”
“One of your best.” He grinned briefly before his expression turned serious. “It’s not legal for Dana to hold that against you and keep you from getting a permit.”
“Probably not, but she’s got last year’s disaster to use against me. We blocked a county road for upward of two hours. We’ve got a plan in place to fix the flow problem, but Dana’s got the upper hand. I just have to keep…” Callie swallowed hard. “Groveling.”
“Can I come the next time?” Trevor flashed another grin. “I’ve never seen you grovel.”
“Bite me. I’m going to change. Aren’t you supposed to be on your way home?”
Trevor glanced at his watch. “Shit. Yeah. Besides I can harass you about the dress tonight at dinner.”
“Oh, right.”
“In another situation I might feel sorry enough for you to let you off the hook, but you tried to throw a punch at me and I had to witness Shelby cry twice this morning before she left for school. I need reinforcements. Six o’clock. I’m cooking.”
“You’re cooking?”
“Yes. I discovered that if I make a really delicious meal for a woman, said woman will usually be impressed enough to sleep with me.” He winked before turning toward his car. “Not that I’m trying to sleep with you,” he called over his shoulder, still grinning. “Unless you wear that pink dress. Then I might consider it.”
She hefted a shoe at him, but he easily dodged it so it landed with a thump on the grass in front of his car.
It made no sense that she stood there smiling as he drove off.
Whistling, Trevor shoved a key into the deadbolt only to realize the door was unlocked. Shelby must have beaten him home. Damn. He couldn’t be the super-sensitive, great advice giver, but he wanted to at least be there when she got home from school.
It had been hard to leave AIF, though. For the first time in weeks he’d felt useful. He could forget about the dark shadows hanging around the Steele house, reminding him of things that would never be again. He’d smiled, sweated, enjoyed his day. Enjoyed it more when he got sight of Callie in the silly pink dress.
Trying to loosen his already-tensing shoulders, Trevor stepped into the living room. Shelby was standing by the ancient answering machine, her backpack still on her shoulders. When she looked over her shoulder at him, there wasn’t that soul-crushing sadness in her eyes.
Nope. She looked downright pissed.
“Hey, sorry I’m late.”
Shelby didn’t say a word, just hit a button on the answering machine.
“Steele.” That was all it took for Trevor to recognize the voice of his boss, and realize whatever the man had to say Shelby had already heard, and whatever she’d heard meant he was in deep shit.
“This is Robbins. I’ve tried you on your cell a few times. No response. Probably no reception in the middle of nowhere. We need your signature on those LOA papers I emailed you two days ago. No Internet in Timbuk Nowheresville? Give me a call.”
Trevor remained silent after the beep, but as much as he wanted to he didn’t drop his gaze when Shelby turned to glare at him.
“I may not be up on all the FBI lingo, but I’m pretty sure LOA means leave of absence.”
Trevor shoved his hands into his pockets, tried to come up with a decent response. “Yeah.” It was the best he had.
“You told me you quit.” Her voice went up a decibel, wobbled, but she wasn’t crying. Yet.
“No.” He was digging himself a bigger hole, but how else could he respond? “I never said that.”
Shelby’s mouth fell open in silenced outrage.
“I never said I quit. You assumed—”
“Are you serious right now?” Her backpack fell to the floor with a hard thud. Anger was better than crying. Kind of.
“Shelby, come on. Let me explain.”
She stomped over to the couch and sank into it, folding her arms over her chest. “This better be good.” Her shoulders were back, those blue eyes a reflection of anger, and she looked so much like their mom in that moment his heart physically hurt.
Swallowing against memories of times his mother had uttered those exact words, Trevor sat down next to her. Did he have a good explanation? Not really. “I couldn’t just quit.”
“I don’t see why not.”
He rested his hand on her knee before she jerked it away. “The bottom line is I have to figure out what I’m going to do. I can’t live off of what Mom and Dad left. That’s for you.”
“But—”
“It’s a leave of absence. I’m not expecting you to be on your own once I go back. I’ve got it all worked out. We can keep the house; it’s paid off. You can come here whenever you want. On breaks and stuff, you’ll come stay with me in Seattle. The apartment is kind of small, but I can get a bigger one.”
“Seattle is half a country away. Pilot’s Point is my home.”
“I know.” Trevor patted her knee. “I know. Like I said, you can come back whenever you want. We can even do Christmas here. You can’t expect me to…” How did he say the rest without coming off the selfish older brother? Was it possible? Maybe that’s just what he was.
“I’m already giving up six months of my life, and I’m not doing any more undercover work all so I can be around if you need me.” Trevor shoved fingers through his hair, frustrated he couldn’t get through to her. Why couldn’t she see he had a life to lead that didn’t involve being her guardian?
Trevor let out a long breath. Could he be more of a dick? Still, the bottom line remained. Pilot’s Point had nothing for him. “I have a great job that I love. You won’t be here nine months out of the year and if you want a decent job, you won’t come back to Pilot’s Point after you graduate college. You have to see this is the best choice for both of us.”
When she was silent, he looked up. The anger on her face hadn’t subsided. If anything, it intensified. “You let me believe you were staying for good.”
Yes, he had. To protect her. Or because it was easier that way. “I thought that’s what you needed.” Her fists were clenched in her lap and Trevor knew his explanation hadn’t changed anything.
“I need the truth!” She jumped to her feet and stood in front of him, looking too young and vulnerable to be in his clumsy care. “I’m a mess right now, but I just lost my mom.” She fisted a hand at her heart, tears getting ready to fall. He couldn’t face them as she continued. “I’m eighteen, prom is in three weeks, AP tests in a month, then graduation. My mom is dead. I deserve to be a mess without you trying to shelter me with lies.”
“Shelby—”
“You’re a terrible brother, you know that?” She wagged her finger in his face. “I used to make excuses for you because you were so much older and because you wanted to get out so bad, but…” She waved her arms wildly in the air. “It’s you.” With every you she shoved a finger into his face. “You’ve always cared more about yourself, everyone else, over your family. For as long as I can remember Callie Baker has meant more to you than any of your own flesh and blood. And I think that’s horrible.”
She stomped over to her backpack and hefted it onto her shoulder. On her way toward the stairs she fixed him with the meanest glare he’d ever seen Shelby muster, worse than anything she’d ever given Callie.
“I hate you,” she said in a low, controlled voice, but the control quickly broke. “I hope you go back to Seattle tomorrow!” She stormed up the stairs, the rapid fire of her running footsteps soon punctuated by the loud slam of the door.
Trevor sat, not sure what to do. The words hurt. As much as he’d like to leave it at that, there was more to it. She was right.
Time passed and Trevor didn’t move. Part of him thought—hoped—Shelby would come back down. He knew he should go up to her, but a heavy weight kept him locked on the couch.
He’d
underestimated how hard this was going to be, and he’d known it would be one of the hardest things he’d ever done.
Prom, AP tests, graduation, college.
Honesty, tears, distance, inferiority to the task.
His mother was gone and more than grief, he felt resentment toward all she left behind. That knowledge only made the guilt stab deeper, sharper.
After an hour of staring at a wall, rendered immobile by the intensity and conflict of emotion, Trevor forced himself off the couch. His cell service was patchy, so he used the home line to call Robbins and explain that no, he hadn’t checked his email, but yes Bumfuck, Iowa, did offer high speed Internet.
Then he’d gone to the kitchen to start dinner, but the sight of his mother’s kitchen, so meticulously kept, so ruthlessly white, left him feeling immobile and hollowed out all over again.
She wasn’t here to soothe away the problems. To make dinner, to keep the house freakishly clean. She was gone, but he couldn’t even grieve right. All those things she was supposed to do were now his responsibility. He didn’t have time to miss her.
When the doorbell rang, Trevor moved into the living room feeling like some outward force was moving his body. It wasn’t until he saw Callie on his doorstep that he remembered she was coming.
“Not one crack about the…” She trailed off, her brows furrowing into concern. “Whoa. What happened to you?”
“Callie, hey. Um, I’m sorry. I think we’re going to have to take a rain check on dinner.”
“What happened?”
Trevor let out a long breath. He didn’t know how to explain it. More, he didn’t want to explain it, because it meant admitting some crappy stuff about himself. “Shelby’s pretty pissed at me right now. I don’t think your presence at dinner would help the situation any.”
Callie leaned against the doorframe giving no indication she was going to go and let things be. “Why is she pissed at you?”
Trevor swallowed, but there was a discomfort in his throat that made it hard to complete the action. “She found out I’m on a leave of absence, not home for good.”
“Ouch.”
Trevor shook his head. “I guess it’s best it came out now.” Why was his voice so uneven, his hands not quite steady? He cleared his throat and tried to get a handle on what was working through him.
Callie rested her hands on his shoulders, but he still couldn’t pull together enough control to make out any more words. When she pulled him into a hug, he simply rested his chin on her shoulder and closed his eyes.
Real men didn’t cry. How many times had his parents stressed that Steeles didn’t cry? It was a horrifying thought that the lump in his throat was some kind of precursor to that. He’d just hold on to Callie until the feeling passed.
“Um, it’s going to be okay, you know?”
Leave it to Callie’s attempt at comfort to help him regain a little control. Trevor pulled back and managed a smile. “Sure.”
“I’ll go talk to her.”
He wanted to hug her again, because he knew that was the last thing she wanted to do. “No, not now.” He wanted to leave it at that, but as he turned into the house, the memory of Shelby’s words sharpened in his gut again. “She said I was a crappy brother.”
“That’s not tr—”
“No, it is true.” Trevor didn’t turn around to face Callie, instead he looked at the picture of his parents on the mantel of the fireplace. They smiled at him, and he felt those opposing forces that had driven him away. “Mom and Dad always put so much pressure on me. I got out whenever I could. I pushed them and Shelby away. I shut them all out. I hung out with you or got a job halfway across the country. I got tired of always having to be better. Sometimes I just wanted to be what I was.”
She rested her hand on his shoulder. “Let’s order a pizza, watch the game. Then one of us will go talk to Shelby.”
A diversion. It was definitely what he needed. “No, I said I was going to cook. I’ll cook.” Hopefully it would take his mind off of everything to do something. “You can help.”
When he turned to face her, the skeptical smirk was almost enough to make him chuckle. “Okay, you can watch.”
Shelby sat at her desk, staring blindly at the homework in front of her. Tears blurred her vision. Hearing the sounds of dinner being made and two voices—one male and one female—reminded her of a time when both her parents had been alive. It made her so sad she didn’t know what to do except cry.
Mom always yelled at her when she cried, saying it was a sign of weakness, but Shelby was giving herself some reprieve. Mom had cried after Dad died, even if she’d tried to hide it.
Shelby immediately recognized the female voice as Callie’s. At the moment, she hated Callie and Trevor with a painful rage, hate and desperation twisting inside her.
For as long as Shelby could remember, Callie had been a sore point in the Steele household. The only real arguments she could remember her parents having had been over Callie’s influence on Trevor. In fact, it was the last thing they’d fought about before Dad died.
Shelby had always hated Callie’s ability to cause argument in her family. It had been a childish hate at first, but it had grown with her. She didn’t care if Callie had turned over a new leaf, and neither had Mom. They’d both been convinced Callie was rotten at the core. On those rare occasions Shelby had been foolish enough to think Callie was actually changing, Mom would remind her that no matter what happened, Calloway Baker was simply no good.
Why Trevor or Dad had never seen that was anyone’s guess. Maybe men just being stupid.
Laughter floated up through the vent and Shelby scowled down at it. Maybe Callie didn’t have anything to do with Trevor going back to Seattle, but she did have something to do with stealing him away while he was home.
The fallen tears had blurred away the work of at least two of her physics problems. In a fit of anger, Shelby ripped the paper out of her notebook and crumpled it into a little ball.
It wasn’t fair. She’d had such a great day at school. It had started off awkward and weird, but then Dan kind of swooped in and saved her, acting like nothing happened in the two weeks she’d been gone. He’d been like a knight in shining armor or whatever, and stuck by her side the entire day trying to make everything as normal as possible.
He’d walked her to her car after school and asked if she wanted to go to prom with him. Though tears still dampened her cheeks, Shelby smiled at the memory of him telling her if she didn’t want to go to prom, he’d still want to hang out with her on prom night. Best of all, he’d told her to take her time deciding.
Like he really liked her. Shelby had been so excited all the way up to the moment she pulled into the driveway at home and realized Mom wouldn’t be at the house to share her excitement. So she’d cried and cried and cried.
Then she’d gone inside, ready to cry on Trevor’s shoulder and tell him all about her day and feel some of the comfort that came from an adult presence. But he hadn’t been home. He’d been off at AIF. With Callie.
She’d listened to the messages and Trevor had walked in looking happy. Everything had crumbled into a haze of fury at that point.
Anger and sadness melded together to make her feel sick and upset all over again. Was this how life would be from now on? Even the happy stuff would be ruined by all this loss?
Trevor was all she had left and he didn’t want her. He wanted Seattle. He wanted to help Callie. He wanted everything but what his little sister needed. Anger began to overtake the sadness, and Shelby liked that better. She liked anything better than feeling sad all the damn time.
Shelby used her palms to wipe the tears off her cheeks. She was going to be valedictorian, go off to UNI, then write Trevor off for good. There were plenty of people in the world who had no one in their lives and they survived just fine. Let him go back to Seattle. She’d survive.
Besides, Dan was going to UNI in the fall too. Maybe going to prom would turn into, like, a real rela
tionship so she could at least have someone.
“Hey.”
Shelby’s head snapped up to see Callie standing in her bedroom doorway. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Here in your house or here in your room?” Callie asked casually, unaffected by Shelby’s angry demand.
“Both. Neither.” Shelby focused on the anger, mustered her best withering look. “I know why you’re here.” She stopped abruptly when Callie crossed her room and shoved a plate of food at her. Shelby stared at it, but Callie shoved again.
“Take it.”
Not sure what else to do, Shelby followed directions.
“So, why am I here?”
Shelby looked down at the plate, then set it on her desk. She tried to remember the speech she’d practiced giving Callie the night of the funeral, but came up empty. She focused on finding the best way to get Callie gone. Mix the truth with total disdain. “Trevor thinks you have some sort of insight into how I’m feeling. I knew you weren’t the brightest, Callie, but I gave you more credit than this.”
Callie didn’t say anything, just arched an eyebrow.
Shelby pretended she was trying to teach something to a dimwitted five-year-old. “Do you really think you of all people can help me through this?”
“No, I don’t.” Callie shrugged like it didn’t matter. None of Shelby’s meanest insults seemed to be penetrating Callie’s unusually affable demeanor.
“Then why are you in my room?” Shelby didn’t like the way Callie studied her schoolbooks or the pictures on the wall. She didn’t like Callie’s tall body taking up space in the small, feminine room Mom had helped decorate after Dad died. It was one of Shelby’s favorite memories, painting and picking out bedding with Mom.
“I do know what you’re going through. Regardless of my social or intellectual status.”
Shelby turned to her homework. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“Maybe, but you probably went back to school today because you hoped it’d be a distraction. It probably wasn’t as easy as you thought. Because after something like this happens, people treat you differently. It’s worse in high school.” Callie paused, and when Shelby snuck a sideways glance at her, she noticed Callie was frowning and looking at the ground.
