Flight Risk (Antiques in Flight)

by Nicole Helm

  He stared down at it, let out an unsteady breath. “Maybe. Look, you’re leaving tomorrow. I don’t want to think about Callie and all her drama right now.”

  “You love her, don’t you?” She had seen it, hadn’t she? The way they looked at each other, the way they were together. Like a unit. Even when they argued, a clear thread tied them together. It reminded Shelby of their parents. They had had that.

  One day she hoped to have it too. Maybe even with Dan.

  Trevor frowned, obviously not happy she wasn’t letting this go. “Yeah.”

  Feeling a little sorry for him and how miserable he looked, Shelby turned to look at her mother’s grave. “God, Mom would hate that.”

  It produced a little bit of a laugh, so it was a start. “She really would.”

  Shelby leaned her head into Trevor’s side. “She would have been wrong though. Really wrong. I was wrong for a long time about her. You fit.”

  “Thanks, Shelby.” His arm squeezed around her shoulders. “That means a lot.”

  They stood there, arm in arm for a few minutes. Shelby was lost in the past eighteen years, and dreams of what her future held. The fact her parents wouldn’t be there to support her all the way.

  But Trevor’s arm was on her shoulders and he was staying. He’d found his link to Pilot’s Point. More than guilt, more than her.

  Shelby took a deep breath. It sucked and she would always, always miss her parents, but she was doing all right. She would keep doing better.

  “Let’s go home, order some pizza, pack up the car. We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

  Shelby nodded and let Trevor lead her to the parking lot. Trevor moved toward his car, but stopped before he got in. “Got any grand ideas on how to convince the crazy woman I’m in love with to be with me?” He smiled when he said it, but anyone could tell he was hurting.

  “Be you, Trevor. You stick and you’re always there. Eventually, you’ll get through to Callie. You just unfortunately picked an incredibly stubborn person to fall in love with.”

  “Stick, huh? I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.” He frowned, stared at the ground. “I wasn’t always there for you.”

  Shelby thought about that. She’d accused him of such in as many words, but she didn’t feel that anger she once had. “Maybe you weren’t supposed to be. Anyway, you’ve more than made up for it.”

  Before she could move toward her car, he pulled her into a hug. “I’m going to miss you.”

  Tears threatened again, but she didn’t let them fall. “I’m going to miss you too.” She smiled into his chest. “But you’ll see a lot of me. And next summer? You’ll be wishing you moved far away.”

  He chuckled and gave her one last squeeze. “Yeah right. If you’re still with Dan, I’ll barely see you.”

  Shelby smiled at the thought of still being with Dan a year from now. She sure hoped so.

  “Look, uh, you know, in college there are certain temptations.”

  She pushed him away. “Oh my God. Stop trying to talk to me about sex. You’re terrible at it and I’m not an idiot. I won’t do anything stupid.”

  “Promise?”

  The genuine worry on his face made her smile. “I promise. As long as you promise to never, ever bring it up again.”

  “Gladly.”

  Shelby stepped away from Trevor and to her car. Tomorrow she’d be stepping away in a very big, very real way. It was scary, horribly nerve-wracking, but she was ready for it. She was ready to take that big step toward adulthood, because Trevor, and a whole bunch of other people would be there to help her when she stumbled.

  She wasn’t alone.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Callie sat on the porch staring into the sunset. Before Grandma died, they used to sit on the same exact swinging loveseat and rock gently together watching the sky bloom in color. Callie couldn’t remember the last time she’d wished for Grandma’s presence so much, so painfully.

  She needed advice, guidance, and someone to tell her everything would be okay. Callie squeezed her eyes shut. That was stupid. No one could tell her that, and even when someone did, she didn’t listen.

  She was two parts angry, three parts sad, and four parts who knew what. Her mind was in a fog and she didn’t know what to do. Especially with the fly-in starting tomorrow when there’d be hard work, long days, and little sleep.

  Something had to give before the first visitors showed up.

  Callie opened her eyes when she heard the door squeak. Em stepped out onto the porch. Instead of the disdainful frown she’d been getting from Em the past few weeks, Em offered a smile.

  “Hey.”

  Callie swallowed. “Hey.” She didn’t have Grandma anymore. Or Gramps or Dad, or maybe even Trevor, but she had Em. Even when they fought, even when Callie had been a screw up of epic proportions, Em had never let her down. It was high time Callie remembered that.

  Em glided over to the loveseat and slid next to Callie. She looked out at the sun, pressed her foot against the floorboards to send the swing rocking. “How’s it going?”

  Callie shook her head. “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “We’ve been pissed at each other for weeks now, and you can just come out here and ask how I’m doing because I’m a wreck.”

  Em turned to face her, their father’s blue eyes staring at Callie. “You’re my sister. I love you. I can only stand so much of you being a wreck before I start to feel sorry enough for you to ignore the pissed off part.”

  Callie’s throat tightened, so she looked away, back out at the colorful clouds. She tried not to let that make her feel like less. “I’m glad one of us can do that, because I never would in your position.”

  “That’s not true,” Em said gently. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

  Callie frowned. It wasn’t something she was used to hearing. After all, she’d spent most of her life being too easy on herself. “I’m not.”

  Em waved her off. “Do you really think the past two years hasn’t changed you?”

  “No, I’ve changed but—”

  “Don’t but it. You’ve changed. You’ve grown, matured, and become a better person. Sometimes I get the feeling you still think of yourself as that person who couldn’t control herself, who was so lost in her own hurt she couldn’t deal with anyone else’s. That’s not you anymore.”

  Callie leaned back in the chair and let out a whoosh of breath. She’d known that. Hadn’t she? It felt like such a revelation. Such a weight off her shoulders. Maybe she had known it, but it hadn’t quite reached that inner part of realization yet.

  Well, shit.

  They sat in silence for a long time. The world around them got darker, the trees first, and then the ponds in the distance, until darkness closed in. The scent of clover hung on the air, insects hummed, a few birds called to each other.

  It was the kind of moment Callie always loved as a kid. There was something centering and calming about the sounds, the smells, the way the whole world felt, and she so rarely felt that calm or centeredness.

  Callie stared into the darkness in the distance. “I guess you were right.”

  “I usually am.”

  “I don’t know.” Callie shook her head and swallowed. “It’s stupid, isn’t it, that I’m sitting here miserable when I could go over there and fix things?”

  “Very.”

  Callie put a hand to her stomach. “But the thought of it makes me want to vomit.”

  “It must be love, then.”

  “But, what if—”

  Em stopped rocking the seat and faced Callie. “Don’t start that. It won’t help anything, not the way you play what if. You play negative what if where you imagine all the horrible things that could happen, all the ways you could hurt each other or be miserable. Well, you’re doing both right now so what’s the point? Maybe you should try a positive what if.”

  “A positive what if?”

  “Yeah, like what if you g
o make things right with Trevor and he forgives you and you end up building a relationship that lasts. The relationship. The big old till death do you part.”

  Callie pressed the hand to her stomach harder. “I really am going to throw up.”

  “Suck it up. You know if you go over there right now, Trevor isn’t going to slam the door in your face. Look at everything he’s done because of you. He’s changed his whole life.”

  “But I don’t want him to!”

  “Screw what you want. That’s what he did. Because he wanted to be with you. You haven’t done a whole lot to show him you want to be with him. Your turn.”

  “But—”

  Em put her arms around Callie and squeezed. “That ends my advice, sis. The rest is up to you.”

  Em stood, walked toward the door. “I love you, Callie. You’re better than you think you are or give yourself credit for. I wish you could see that. Trevor and I do.”

  Em disappeared into the cabin, and though Callie still felt parts angry and sad and unsure, there was a little seed of light blooming in her chest. A warmth, a sureness, a belief.

  A positive what if. What if she could be stronger than she had been? What if all the changes she’d made in the past two years were enough or, if they weren’t, they were good enough that with the right support she would get there?

  Negative what ifs threatened. What if she did all that and it still wasn’t enough? What if Trevor changed his mind?

  Callie shoved to her feet, her hands curling into fists as if she could physically fight the negative what ifs.

  One last what if, neither positive nor negative just a plain old what if. What if she went to talk to Trevor and they figured it out? Together.

  Trevor sat on the couch in the darkened room. He knew he should turn on the TV, but he couldn’t quite muster the effort.

  The house was like a tomb. Dark and stark and empty. It wasn’t really empty, but without anyone else living there with him it felt empty. His mother’s white, ruthless style haunted him.

  He scowled. This was his house now. It didn’t have to feel that way. He didn’t have to keep it as some sort of shrine to his parents’ lives. No, if he was living here, and he was, it needed to be his.

  He didn’t think Shelby would mind. It would still be the home she’d always lived in, it just wouldn’t look exactly the same inside. It would be warmer, cozier. Probably a hell of a lot messier.

  Trevor stood up, determined to start immediately. Only, he didn’t have any idea where to start. He couldn’t rip up the white carpet or paint the white walls at nine o’clock on a Wednesday night. It would be stupid to get rid of furniture when he didn’t have any to replace it.

  Feeling impotent and angry, Trevor clenched his hands into fists. This was not supposed to be what staying felt like. It was supposed to be good, and he supposed once he got back to work it would be, but he had to wait until October to get a spot at county.

  He wished he could be excited about the fly-in. It had been years since he’d been to one, and he’d never been on the other side, working, helping out. He’d always been a bystander. Now, he’d be in the thick of things, and he’d be miserable because somehow he’d let Callie make him that way.

  No more. Nope. She wasn’t ready to get over all her insecurities, well, he’d done all he could. He’d stuck, and she just… It didn’t matter. Not anymore.

  Before he could sit down and settle in with a baseball game, a knock sounded on the door.

  Every other time this week a knock had sounded, he’d been so sure it was Callie. Each and every time he had been disappointed. Mail lady, salesperson, neighbor kid. It never was the one person he wanted to see.

  It seemed appropriate the one time he didn’t expect Callie on the other side of the door, that’s exactly who would be standing there.

  She held up a hand in an awkward wave. “Hi.”

  Though hope was the first emotion, it was quickly tempered by anger and irritation. “Hi.” She didn’t say anything else. He didn’t say anything else. They stood staring at each other.

  “Can I come in?”

  Trevor crossed his arms over his chest, leaned against the side of the door, blocking entrance. “Depends.”

  “On?” There was no snap or spark to her response, which was a little unsettling.

  “What you what to talk about when you come in.”

  She looked down at her tennis shoes. “Um, well, the fly-in starts tomorrow.”

  “Wrong answer.” He stepped back and slammed the door in her face. Maybe it was childish to feel some satisfaction in the action, but after everything that had happened between them she didn’t have the right to come in and pretend she wanted to talk about the damned fly-in.

  Satisfaction quickly melted into doubt, because she didn’t knock again. He stood staring at the door as seconds ticked by in a dark, oppressive silence. Trevor shoved his hands into his pockets, hoping the physical action would prevent him from giving into the impulse to open the damn door back up.

  He didn’t believe she would walk away. He didn’t believe she had really come to talk about the fly-in either. There was no way one slammed door in her face would make her turn around, give up, and walk away. The Callie he knew was a hell of a lot stronger than that.

  Except she hadn’t looked it, standing on the porch all unsure and uncomfortable. There’d been no battle light in her expression, no glimpse of what core strength she relied on.

  He was not going to give in to guilt. Not over this. He had nothing to feel guilty about. If Callie was messed up, that was not his fault. He’d fought, he’d pushed, he’d put it all out on the line, and she’d thrown it in his face. No way he’d crumble now.

  Except he hadn’t put it all out on the line. He hadn’t told her he’d quit the FBI or talked to Sheriff Burns. He hadn’t told her no matter what happened between them, Pilot’s Point was his home again.

  She’d find out soon enough. It really didn’t have any bearing on what they were fighting about anyway.

  Trevor’s fingers tapped in his pockets. Maybe he should open the door to see if she’d left. If she hadn’t, he could just close it again. Or yell at her to leave. Or pull her into his arms and—

  Nope. No safe way to go down that road. He was going to walk right over to the couch and watch the ballgame and ignore she’d ever showed up on his doorstep.

  Except before he could manage the action of moving away from the door, a knock sounded on it. No, not a knock. An insistent, hard banging that practically shook the front of the house.

  He reached out, opened the door, working up his best look of detached calm. “What?”

  “Slamming the door in my face was completely unnecessary and a dick move to boot.” Her hands were clenched into fists, and her eyes squinted in frustrated anger. There was the battle light, the core strength.

  The image warmed his heart. “Yeah, well, maybe I feel like getting in a few dick moves.”

  Without hesitation, she pushed past him into the house. “I’m coming in and we’re going to talk.”

  Trevor slammed the door, this time with Callie on the inside. “Oh, we’re going to talk?”

  “Yes.”

  “About what? AIF? The weather? Maybe you’d like to discuss politics.”

  “I… We…” She stopped, flustered enough some of the anger left her face and confusion took over. “It’s…” She shook her head, straightened, lifted her chin and looked him directly in the eye. “I’m sorry.”

  Like hell she was getting off that easy. “For what?”

  She kept eye contact, but he noticed that her hands shook briefly before she clasped them together.

  “For the other night.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific.”

  She took a deep breath, but her eyebrows slanted farther down, her frown slashing deeper lines in her face. “When I broke things off. When I told you I couldn’t do this.” She shook her head, looked miserable. “I was wr
ong.”

  Even though sympathy was threatening to take over, Trevor held on to the icy calm. “Why were you wrong?”

  “Because…” This time her voice shook along with her hands, and she dropped her eyes to the floor. “Because I love you.” She looked up at him, brown eyes reflecting both fear and hope, and a part of him nearly gave into the need to cross over to her, kiss her, and tell her he loved her too.

  Not yet. There was still work to be done, things to be sorted out. “I already knew that.”

  It obviously wasn’t the answer she was expecting because her brows bunched together and she looked down at her clutching hands. “Okay.”

  “Give me something more.”

  She nodded and met his gaze again. Even though tears shone in her eyes, she didn’t shed them. Instead, she squared her shoulders, clutched her hands hard, and stared right at him. “I want you to stay.”

  That wasn’t the response he’d been expecting. After all the time she’d spent talking about how he belonged in Seattle, about how he couldn’t be happy in Pilot’s Point, even now in the midst of her apology he hadn’t expected such simple powerful words. He didn’t have a comment, negative or otherwise. He simply stared.

  “You probably already made your decision, and I’ll support any of them.” Her voice cracked a little, but she didn’t look away and the tears didn’t fall. “But, if you want to know what I want. I want you to stay. Even though it scares the hell out of me.”

  There it was, the words he’d wanted to hear. The words that would soothe every last doubt in the corners of his mind. She wanted him to stay. Wanted it. “I am staying. I made all the arrangements. Quit the FBI, got my stuff in Seattle settled away. I start back at county in October.” Though he said it mechanically, the emotion was there in his face.

  She nodded, blinked a few times. “Okay. That’s good.”

  Trevor had to laugh, even if it felt a little hollow. “You sound less than enthusiastic.”

  “I.” She bit down on her lip, looked to the ceiling. “Did it ever occur to you I couldn’t be what you want me to be? That I’m not capable of doing this, this us thing?”