by Jeannie Watt
“I guess I am now, once I sell the house.” She glanced away, making Nathan wonder if she was nervous about that—having no home base. He couldn’t imagine not having one himself. Even if he didn’t want one, it seemed to find him, in the form of two brothers and one disapproving father. But it was a form of security. A form Callie would never know, having no family.
“Did they ever figure out what happened to him?” Nathan asked. “Your dad?”
A shadow crossed her features. “No.”
Callie carefully set the photo back where she’d found it, then wiped her palms down the sides of her black dress. Their eyes met and once again Nathan felt that silent connection he found with no one else.
“What do you want, Callie? Why do you keep coming here?”
“Is that woman you were with tonight your girlfriend?”
A perfect chance for escape. Nathan didn’t take it. Instead, he looked wearily into her beautiful aqua eyes and said, “No. Blind date. How about you?”
“Sucky date. We should have been together, Nate.”
His mouth tightened as he looked away. Right. They should be together, then he could fall in love with her again, and then she could leave. Great plan.
“We’re driving each other crazy,” she said. He couldn’t argue with her there. “Why can’t we push all this crap aside and simply be together while I’m here? You know you feel as drawn to me as I am to you. In some ways it’s like we’ve never been apart in spite of everything that happened.”
Nathan got awkwardly to his feet, his knee buckling slightly, and Callie stepped aside, giving him room to move. He limped past her into the kitchen, where only one low-watt bulb burned above the sink. He poured another splash of Scotch over what was left of the ice cube. Warm Scotch, cold Scotch. He didn’t care.
“Be together,” he said after taking a healthy swallow. “Like being friends…only friends who can’t trust each other.”
“I will always be up front with you. Before, I didn’t know what was happening. I panicked. I thought a clean break would be easiest for both of us. I handled it so poorly, but I was afraid I would give in if I stayed in touch.”
And would that have been so bad?
Apparently so.
“How would it be different this time?”
“We both need different things now than we did back then.”
“What about sex?” Nathan asked in a low voice. “Is that part of the package?” He reached down with his right hand and absently touched the numb muscles of his thigh, felt the ugly divot, and could not imagine making love to Callie this way.
“The attraction is there and you can’t tell me it’s not. I think sex would be good for us. In fact, I think we’re overdue after what happened the last time. As long as we understand the situation.”
Nathan put the glass on the counter with such force that a small amount of Scotch sloshed out, pooling gold on the white counter.
“Listen, Callie. I don’t want to have sex with you because it would be good for us or for old time’s sake or because you ‘care’ enough to have sex before you blast out of my life again. I don’t want you to make up for the past, and I don’t want to be on the receiving end of sympathy.”
“Who said anything about sympathy?”
Right. Who had said anything about sympathy? Nathan muttered a curse. “I don’t want to have sex because you feel bad about the past. How’s that?”
“Very clear,” Callie said, her eyes revealing no emotion. “I can’t help the way I am, Nate.”
“And I can’t help the way I am, either.” But it sure seemed stupid that at one time they’d been soul mates and now…now this chasm.
“I think you still care about me.”
“Even if I did, Callie, I wouldn’t do anything about it, because there’s no future in it.”
“Is that what you’re looking for? Is that one of the prerequisites? The guarantee of a future?”
“No. The possibility of a future. With you there isn’t even that. I’ve lost before I start. I won’t do that again. I won’t waste the time again.”
She looked stunned by his last words. She said nothing for a moment, then abruptly turned and walked back through the living room to the front door, where she let herself out. A moment later the Neon pulled away from the curb, leaving Nathan very much alone. Again. Just as he’d been before she’d shown up, but now it felt even worse.
It felt final.
I WON’T WASTE THE TIME.
Callie parked at the curb in front of her house five minutes later, Nate’s harsh words circling through her mind.
Just forget about him. You can’t keep beating your head on the wall. Just give it up.
She was so preoccupied talking herself down that she completely missed the guy sitting in the shadows on her porch steps. When he moved she jumped a mile, then went into instant defense mode before she recognized him, and even then she didn’t drop her guard.
“Mitch. You scared me.” She kept her distance as she pressed a hand against her chest in an effort to still her hammering heart.
“Enjoy your evening with the coach?”
“It was an evening.” What was going on? Why was this kid here and what did he want? No, it was obvious what he wanted. To what lengths would he go to get it?
“And then you went to see Marcenek. Think Coach knows about that?”
Callie’s eyes grew round. “You were following me?”
Mitch shrugged. “So what’s wrong with me? I mean, if you’re seeing two guys, why not three?”
Callie drew herself up. “Because the third one is too immature and arrogant for my tastes.”
And he was also a big kid. Much stronger than she was and probably a lot faster.
“You’d better go now, Mitch…before you disturb the neighbors!” Callie shouted the last words, noticing that Alice’s windows were open and the television was on. The Hobart house was as dark as always.
Mitch smirked at her and stepped forward, but Alice’s porch light snapped on and he jumped back. Callie could see his face, and what she saw unnerved her. Cold determination.
“Leave,” she told him.
Alice opened her door and peered out.
“Hey, Alice,” Callie called, her eyes fixed on Mitch’s face. “So help me, I’ll have her call the cops if you don’t get your ass out of here.”
“Are you all right, Callie?” Alice called.
“I will be in a few seconds,” she said through gritted teeth as she stared the kid down. Mitch gave her a look of hatred and stormed off to his car. He fired up the engine and pulled away from the curb with a screech of tires.
Alice came out onto her porch in a wild floral print robe, her hand over her chest. “Are you all right, Callie? Who was that?”
Callie crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself as she watched the taillights disappear around the corner. “Mitch Michaels.”
“Really!”
“Yes.” And now what did she tell Alice? That she was seeing another much more intimidating side of this kid that wasn’t nearly as charming as the one she’d shut down at school? “It was nothing, Alice. He’s just a little persistent.”
Even across the distance that separated them, Callie could see her neighbor’s shock.
“Trust me, I haven’t encouraged him. I, uh, should be getting into the house.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Alice asked in a dubious voice.
“Oh, yes. Everything will be fine now. Good night, Alice.”
“Good night.”
Callie went into the house, grabbed the phone book and looked up the number for the sheriff’s office dispatch. Thankfully, the deputy who called back a few minutes later was not Garrett.
She briefly explained that Mitch Michaels had followed her that evening and had been waiting for her at her house, where he’d behaved in a threatening manner. The deputy sounded rather pleased with the situation, making Callie wonder if he had something against
the rich Michaels family or if he’d had dealings with Mitch before and was looking to take the kid down.
“I’ll have a talk with him tonight if I can locate him,” the deputy promised. “Tomorrow, if I can’t. If he persists, then you’ll have to consider taking stronger measures.”
“Should I have reason to believe he’s going to persist?” Callie asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine, but just in case, keep that in mind.”
How very helpful, Callie thought as she hung up the phone. Your guess is as good as mine.
She locked all the doors and windows and then went to bed, more creeped out by the situation than she wanted to admit.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
NATHAN WAS JUST OPENING the garage door to go to work when Garrett pulled up to the curb in the sheriff’s office SUV. Curious, since this looked a lot like an official visit, Nathan walked toward him. Garrett got out of the car and met him halfway up the drive.
“I wanted you to hear this from me, rather than through the very efficient grapevine.”
Nathan didn’t like the expression on his brother’s face. “Hear what?”
“Callie made a complaint against Mitch Michaels. I guess he was following her last night. Followed her here, in fact, and then confronted her at her house.”
Rage unlike anything Nathan had ever felt before exploded inside him. He turned and started back toward the garage without another word.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Nate.”
He turned back. “Me? I’m the calm, quiet brother. Remember?”
Garrett looked heavenward for an instant. “Just make sure you stay that way. We had extra patrols driving by her place last night. She was safe.”
“You didn’t go talk to the little asshole?”
“We did. A deputy found him in the café with some friends who swore he’d been with them all night.”
“So Callie just imagined it.”
“Exactly.”
Nathan ground his teeth. “Well, perhaps I’ll help Mitch imagine a few things today.”
“Watch yourself. If you assault him, it won’t endear you to your boss and it won’t keep Callie safe.”
Oh, yeah. He’d watch himself. “I don’t care if Callie isn’t your favorite person,” Nathan said to his brother, “you continue to make damned sure nothing happens to her, understand?”
“I understand,” Garrett repeated wearily. “Just don’t do anything to that kid. Let us handle it.”
Nathan released a long breath. “I’ll try,” he muttered. It was the best he could do. He wasn’t making any promises.
He spent the morning in his office with his door closed, debating how he was going to continue to work for Vince Michaels when he wanted nothing more than to eviscerate his son. And there was another asshole son coming up through the ranks.
Nate had cooled down slightly by the time Mitch showed up for his intern hours that afternoon—enough so that he didn’t grab the kid by the lapels and slam him up against a wall. His burning rage had turned into more of a cold, controllable anger.
“I’d like to talk to you.” Nathan gestured for the young man to step into his office. There was no doubt in his mind that Mitch knew why. He smirked and walked by him with his distinctive rolling swagger.
Nathan closed the door and leaned back against his desk, folding his arms over his chest as he studied the kid, who stared back insolently. Finally Nathan spoke, slowly and clearly.
“If you go near Callie McCarran, or any other woman, for that matter, I’ll cut your nuts off.”
Shock crossed Mitch’s face, replaced almost immediately by the smirk. This kid felt so freaking safe.
“I’m also reporting Katie’s concerns from last spring.”
“Big deal.”
“Last I heard, med school doesn’t encourage the admission of students with histories of blatant sexual harassment and stalking.”
Mitch’s face went purple. He didn’t wait to hear another word, but instead wrenched the door open and stormed out, then out the front door. A few seconds later, Nathan heard rubber peeling in the parking lot. He had a feeling that nothing good was going to come of this, but if he had it to do all over again, he wouldn’t change a thing.
CALLIE WAS ON THE front porch showing the repairman the window screens she wanted replaced when the county vehicle pulled to a stop in front of the Hobart house. The pink Mustang was there, so the mom was home. Callie wondered if CPS had warned her they were coming, or if they simply swooped in unannounced.
Either way, she felt better knowing someone was finally checking into the situation. She hated sticking her nose into other people’s business, but the Hobart kids couldn’t continue staying alone at night. It was wrong. Flat out wrong.
After lining the repairman out, she went inside and finished up her last article for the paper on the twice-retired woman who had then got her teaching certificate and was now teaching kindergarten even though she was in her mid-seventies. It had been a fascinating interview, since the woman had done so very much. Having never married or had children, she spent her life following whatever career path interested her at the time.
Although she didn’t foresee teaching kindergarten anywhere in her future, Callie identified with the woman. The thought was surprisingly dissatisfying.
There were some weird things going on in her brain these days.
Callie paced through Grace’s nearly empty house, feeling almost as empty inside. At every other point in her life when issues had sprung up, she’d been quite satisfied to move along, leaving them behind. Maybe she’d reached a stage where she realized walking away wasn’t a solution, but rather a cover-up.
Callie finished the article and e-mailed it to the Star, then shut off her computer. She was in the kitchen making tea when there was a knock on the front door. Mrs. Hobart. Through the gap in the front window curtains, Callie could see her standing on the porch.
In spite of all her instincts telling her not to answer the door, that this could not in any way be good, Callie sucked it up and unlatched the door lock.
“You bitch.” She had barely opened the door when Mrs. Hobart, hands planted firmly on her nonexistent hips, let fly. “What in the hell were you thinking, calling CPS on me? You bitch!” She repeated it in case Callie hadn’t received the message the first time.
“I thought your kids were out at night without supervision. That the house was dark when you were gone, and they were home.”
“My mom has an apartment in the basement. That’s where the kids spend their evenings. I leave the lights off upstairs to save money. Maybe you don’t have to worry about electric bills, inheriting like you have, but I have to support my mom and my kids.”
Callie felt the blood rising in her cheeks. She had no way to see basement lights. She hadn’t even known the house had a basement. There were no windows, no door. Nothing.
“And now you know what you’ve done? You’ve opened the door for my asshole ex-husband to come in and try to take the kids from me.”
“I, uh—”
“If—and I mean it from the bottom of my soul—he gets custody of my kids, then you are going to so deeply regret ever putting your nose in my business….”
Callie swallowed, knowing there was nothing she could say to defend herself that she hadn’t already said.
“I’m sorry. I was concerned about your kids.”
Mrs. Hobart sneered. “Well, maybe you’d better be concerned about your ass from now on.” And with that she stormed down the sidewalk and out the gate, which banged shut behind her.
Callie watched the woman go, her face feeling first hot and then cold. Her heart beat in a slow, heavy rhythm.
She walked back into the house and closed the door, leaning her forehead against the cool glass.
Nate had told her to be careful. But she had truly believed there was a problem in the family, that the kids were being neglected—and she had reacted at gut level. Why? Why had the idea of those
kids being left alone struck such a cord?
Yes, her own childhood must play a part, but she’d accepted her childhood.
Or thought she had.
Of course she had.
Her head was throbbing. Was there anything in her life that wasn’t screwed up? Anything at all?
“WHAT’S UP?” Nathan said into his cell phone as he saved his files on the computer.
“Want to grab a beer?” Garrett asked. He’d taken their father in for a follow-up physical late that afternoon.
“Anything I need to be mentally prepared for?”
“No. Better than I’d hoped, but Dad’s mad.”
“The Supper Club or Fuzzy’s?”
“Fuzzy’s.”
Nathan was still at the office. The only person at the office, since normal people were home with loved ones, or out and about. “Be there in ten.”
He was actually there in five. Garrett was waiting at a table with a beer in his hand and two unopened bottles in the middle of the table.
“Did you call me from here?”
“Yeah.” Garrett nudged a beer toward him. Nathan took it and drank deeply. Fuzzy’s was a classic dark bar. No live music, just a dated selection on a jukebox that no one bothered to play. No waitresses. No bar food. People who came to Fuzzy’s were there to drink. They also tended to mind their own business.
“What’s the deal with Dad?”
Garrett launched into a bunch of medicalese from which Nathan deduced what they already knew—that if John stayed on the medication, he’d be fine. If he went off, he wouldn’t be. “Well, to make a long story short,” Garrett concluded, tilting the top of his beer bottle in Nathan’s direction, “he can’t be on the firefighting squad anymore. He can do logistics, but he can’t physically fight the fires.”
“That’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative.”
“Not to Dad. All or nothing.” Garrett looked over his shoulder at the bar, then back again. “Want to move into the rental?”
“Oh, yeah. Dad and me living side by side. Good idea. Like his stress level isn’t high enough right now.”
“Just thought I’d throw it out there,” Garrett said morosely.
