by Cathryn Fox
I never meant to react when Callan reached for my face, or again just now when my phone started ringing. He’s a smart guy, one of the smartest I know, and he’s a firefighter to boot. Guys like him, first responders, they’re used to dealing with those in a crisis. Not that I’m in a crisis. Not anymore, anyway. Or maybe I still am.
All I know is my ex is going to be at the annual family get-together this weekend, and he’s the last person on the face of the earth I want to see. I’d tried to break it off with him numerous times over the last couple of years, but he always apologized for his behavior, always insisting he’d change. I’m a cliché, I know. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still a little afraid of him, and his violent outbursts. He’s never laid a hand on me, but his threatening nature, always putting me down, and rough handling me in the bedroom, broke me a little, or a lot. I shake my head and push down the memories.
Honestly, I’d skip the reunion altogether, if it weren’t for my parents. Dad’s health hasn’t been great and I don’t see them enough as it is. They’re both looking forward to seeing me and what they’d like most is to see me back with Brad. The man could win an Oscar for his performances when he’s not behind closed doors.
“It’s my mother,” I say, and keep walking.
He continues on with me, slowing his strides to match mine, and I look straight ahead, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel his eyes drilling into me. God, I wish I wasn’t such an easy read. We might not have seen each other for a while, but Callan was always nice to me, always protective of those in our group.
“You don’t like your mother?” he asks.
That pulls a laugh from my throat, and eases some of the tension in my shoulders. “No, of course I do.” I take my last bite of ice cream and wipe my mouth. “It’s just, ugh, it’s the annual Davis weekend.”
“You lost me there.”
“Once a year, we have a big gathering at my parents place. They moved to the Cape after I graduated high school.” We make our way back to his car, and I continue with, “I mean, I’m looking forward to seeing everyone. Mostly.”
“Who is it you don’t want to see?” he asks, straight up. Leave it to Callan to get to the bottom of matters.
My body bumps his as we walk, and I move back quickly. Men like Callan, big, strong, powerful. Those are the kind of guys I go out of my way to avoid. Callan, however, he’s not like my ex. He’s always been sweet, and I probably shouldn’t be thinking about him naked. Clearly, it’s been too long since I’ve been touched by a nice guy, a guy who would never threaten to hurt me after a bad day at work—or even a good day.
“My ex is going to be there,” I say and scrunch up my nose. “Awkward, and all,” I add to cover the truth.
“Ah,” he says. “I take it the breakup wasn’t mutual then.”
“I broke it off with him, and no, not mutual.” My heart pounds a little faster. “He’s still messaging me, and he wants to get back together,” I say, wondering why I’m telling him any of this. I don’t talk about my ex, don’t even want to think about him. I guess with the weekend reunion tomorrow, it’s hard not to think about him. Not only am I thinking about him, the jerk is also invading my dreams. Every night for this past week, I’ve been waking up in a cold sweat. His folks are old friends of my parents. They were all so happy when we got together. None of them can understand the breakup, and I’m not about to drag my parents into my problems. I just wanted a clean break and to put it all behind me
“Is he harassing you?” he finally asks, pulling my thoughts back. I swallow as we reach the car and Kaitlyn jumps into the back seat, buckling herself into her booster seat.
“Let’s just say he doesn’t like to take no for an answer.”
His steps slow and the muscles along his jaw clench. “Is he hurting you, Gemma?”
“No, no,” I say quickly. “I just wish he’d get it in his head that we’re not getting back together.”
Callan pauses, his gaze moving over my face. “Ever think of a restraining order?”
A humorless laugh catches in my throat. “He’s a cop, Callan. It complicates things.” I can’t even imagine how much he, or his fellow officers, would harass me if I went to the courts. I’ve been around his buddies enough to know they stick together no matter what. At the end of the day, I’m physically fine, but it’s the mental abuse, his possessiveness that frightens me. Avoiding him has been my best course of action, and that’s worked so far. With the weekend coming, he’s been reaching out to me again. Changing my number and making it private hasn’t stopped him. Which just goes to show me how much power he has.
“It shouldn’t complicate things,” Callan says softly.
“You’re right, it shouldn’t.” I open my door and slide in. Callan stands there for a moment, his brow furrowed as he scrubs his chin. My insides tighten. I’ve already said too much, and to Callan at that. He has enough problems of his own. He doesn’t need to be taking on mine, or worrying about me. “It’s okay, Callan. Everything is okay. I’m sure the weekend will be fine.”
He nods, but doesn’t look convinced as he circles the car and jumps in. He turns the engine over and backs up.
“Daddy, can we have pizza for dinner?”
He glances at Kaitlyn in the rearview mirror. “Sounds like a good idea,” he says, the muscles in his shoulders tight, like he’s still trying to work through what I shouldn’t have just told him.
“Can Miss Davis have pizza with us?”
“Oh, honey, that’s okay—” I begin but Callan cuts me off.
“I do make a mean pizza,” Callan says. “Three-time champion at the station.” He blows on his knuckles and shines them on his shirt. I grin, happy to see the playful Callan back.
“Wait, you make pizza? Like, homemade pizza? Not frozen from a box?”
“I’m pretty good in the kitchen, I’ll have you know.”
Kaitlyn rubs her belly. “He puts extra cheese on it for me.”
Back in high school, Callan was the school’s jock. Totally into fitness—he’s still physically fit—and while he always ate well, I never saw him as the kind of guy to enjoy cooking.
“When did you get so good in the kitchen?” I ask and instantly regret it. Ugh. Sometimes I need to engage my brain before my mouth. He’s been on his own with Kaitlyn for two years. The man learned to cook out of necessity. “I didn’t mean. I’m just—”
He laughs to make light of it and I’m grateful. “You’re coming for pizza then?” he asks
“How can I say no to extra cheese?” I look straight ahead and reclip my hair. “Is it true, that at the fire station, you guys all cook for one another?”
“Yup, it’s true.”
“And you have competitions?”
“I wouldn’t call it a competition.” He lifts his head and his chest puffs up, a playful grin on his face. “Not when the guys don’t really stand a chance against me.”
I laugh at that, feeling so much lighter. I love how he puts me at ease. “Wow, that’s some ego you’ve got there, my friend.”
He grins. “Only because I can back it up.”
“I bet you can,” I say and before I can help myself my gaze drops to take in the lovely bulge in his crotch. He shifts, and my gaze flies back to his. Oh my God, I was just checking out my friend’s crotch, and he caught me doing it.
Instead of calling me on it, and for that I’m grateful, he says, “I can give you a tour of the station if you like.”
“Yeah, actually that might be fun. Maybe we can arrange something with the Boys and Girls club in the coming weeks.”
“That would be fun, Daddy,” Kaitlyn says, but I can only imagine she’s been there numerous times.
“I’ll look into it. As the top chef, I have a lot of pull.”
Chuckling at his sense of humor, I sit back and relax into the seat as he drives us to his house. He coasts into the driveway and as soon as we come to a complete stop, Kaitlyn unbuckles, jumps from the back seat,
and runs to the small group of kids skipping in the next driveway.
“She’s such a happy little girl,” I say to Callan, my heart warming at the image of the kids playing. It reminds me of my own childhood, and my two older sisters. They too became teachers, following in our mother’s footsteps, and they’ll be home with their husbands and kids for the gathering.
He smiles, his look distant, like he’s remembering happier times, and my stomach clenches. It must be hard to watch his little girl grow up without a mother, to think about a mother missing out on all her child’s life. Wanting to lighten things, I reach for my door handle and say, “So what’s the secret to this pizza, and please don’t tell me it’s lard.”
He grins. “Come on, I’ll teach you.”
“Really, you’ll share your big secret?”
“I think my secret is safe with you, Gemma.”
I lift my chin an inch. “Maybe I’ll slip it to one of the guys at the station when we’re on tour. Knock your ego down a peg or two.”
“Then I’d say you’re forgetting something.”
I narrow my eyes. What on earth is he talking about. “What am I forgetting?”
He throws his arm around me, and a quiver goes through me. He jerks it back, clearly mistaking my reaction this time and I can’t blame him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay,” I say. “You just surprised me earlier, that’s all.” It’s true he did. I know Callan would never hurt me, but he doesn’t need to know that Brad would put his fist up to my face in anger, just to see me flinch. I hate how long it took me to end it. I’m ashamed by it, to be honest, though I shouldn’t be. For those who don’t understand abuse, staying can sometimes be easier. It takes courage to leave. Guys like Brad prey on that fear.
My gaze moves over his handsome face, his gorgeous blue eyes, and I can’t help but wonder if my secret is safe with him. Then again, what good would come out of telling him about my ex’s possessive behavior, the violence he could barely keep on simmer? A guy like Callan Ward, well, he’d likely go after him, and that would bring nothing but trouble to his family and loved ones.
“What am I forgetting?” I ask, bringing the conversation back around.
“You helped me pick out Zoe’s promise ring. It killed you to keep it a secret from her. But you did.”
I smile at that. “I swear I was ready to burst.”
“Yeah, you were like a great big hippopotamus holding its breath for weeks.”
I put one hand on my hip and glare at him. “Excuse me?”
“It was a compliment,” he says with a laugh.
I shake my head. “Yes, how could I mistake being called a hippo as anything other than a compliment.”
His head drops, hangs low in shame. “I’ve clearly been hanging around six-year olds too much.”
“You definitely need some adult company, Callan.”
“That I do.”
I resist the urge to ask what else he might need as he starts up the driveway and my gaze drops to his very fine ass, showcased by low slung jeans. I follow him up the walkway, and he opens the door and gestures for me to enter. My heart jumps into my throat when I step into the entranceway and glance around. The house is warm, comfy, and a bit untidy, but everywhere I look, I see love, and laughter—pictures of family, of a wife that hadn’t changed in two years. Because she’s gone. The last time I was here was four years ago, when they bought the place and had a housewarming party.
His late wife Zoe still lives on here, and I’m not sure whether that is a good or bad thing. I haven’t seen our old group in a long time. Zoe was the glue that kept us together. Has Callan even been with anyone since she’s been gone? I’m thinking no. All signs point to it. He did just admit that he needed adult company. Zoe would have wanted him to move on with his life. Of that I have no doubt.
“Just like I remember it.” My voice is low, barely a whisper, as my heart thumps a little harder against my ribcage.
His throat makes a sound as he swallows. “Don’t mind the mess. I’m not much of a housekeeper.”
“It’s homey,” I say to him and he gives me a grateful smile.
“I hire a nanny for Kaitlyn in the summers. She starts when Kaitlyn gets back from her week at her grandparents. She tidies up while she’s here, but for ten months of the year, it’s a bit of a mess.”
He gives me a smile, but that’s when it occurs to me. He might look put together, but underneath it all, the man is held together by frayed stitches. God, I didn’t even know what kind of shape he’s been in. My heart sits heavy in my chest. What kind of friend have I been, not to know Callan was living in a time capsule, and simply going from day to day?
“Who takes care of Kaitlyn during the school year when you’re on shift?” I follow him to the kitchen and he removes a stack of papers from the chair and gestures for me to sit.
“She does the Boys and Girls club after school, but on the nights I’m working, she usually goes to one of the grandparents’ places.”
“You have a great support system.” There isn’t a lot of stability for Kaitlyn, going from home to home, but I guess they’re doing what they have to do to get by. A measure of guilt gnaws at me. I should have been there for him over the years. Well, I’m here now. Maybe I can help him move on with his future.
“Yeah, I do,” he says but it’s what he’s not saying that tightens my throat. While he has numerous people there for him and Kaitlyn, no one can take the place of his wife, and I have to agree.
“Drink?” he asks as children’s laughter trickles in through the open windows and fills the house. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. When Brad and I first got together he was so damn charming and I used to dream about having a family with him. Now that I’m single, recuperating from an abusive relationship, I just want to keep a low profile and try to find myself again. As much as I want kids, I’m not sure I see it happening.
He opens the fridge and leans in. “Wine or beer?” I stand, unable to sit idle while someone serves me and step up behind him to see what he’s offering.
“If we’re having pizza, I think that calls for a beer,” I say.
“I knew there was a reason I always liked you,” he says and turns around, bumping into me again. I stumble backward, but he slides his free hand around my waist. The other is holding two beers. He pulls me to him and I become acutely aware of the strength in his body as it presses against mine. “Sorry, Gemma. I didn’t know you were standing there.”
“We have to stop meeting like this,” I tease, but dammit, my voice holds a hint of arousal that I pray he doesn’t pick up on.
He laughs. “You’re kind of stealthy.”
“It’s always been one of my finer qualities. It’s at the top of my resume, actually. Bachelor of education, pianist, stealthy,” I tease. Why isn’t he letting me go? Better yet, why don’t I want him to? “It’s a skill that helped me get a job teaching English to seventh graders.”
“The school needed a stealthy teacher for that, did they?”
I open my eyes wide in mock surprise. “You clearly have no idea how sneaky teenagers can be with their phones, especially when it comes to cheating.”
He arches a brow, and his clean soapy scent fills my lungs. “Ah, so you have the ability to sneak up on that and catch them in the act.”
“That’s right.”
“You’ll have to teach me that. Kaitlyn is six going on thirteen.”
I chuckle, but it comes out rough and hoarse. “I’m sorry to say it’s not teachable. You’re either born with it or you’re not. Sadly, I think you lack the skill, Callan. You’re too big to be stealthy.”
“Too big, huh?” He angles his head. “Wait, is that a sideways compliment, like the hippo?”
His heat moves through me, trickles through my blood and settles between my legs. My God, what is going on with me? This is Callan. I can’t go there with him. He’s not over his late wife, and never will be—which is unfortunate because
everyone deserves happiness—and the last thing he’s likely looking for is a relationship. A brief affair, however.
Wait, what?
“Not a sideways compliment, Callan. It’s a compliment. I remember every girl wanted to be with you back in high school.”
Myself included.
His hand slides from my back, leaving cold where there was once warmth. Okay, Gemma, that’s your cue to move backward, put a measure of space between our bodies.
Why the hell aren’t I moving back?
Because Callan is sweet, hot and fun, and I haven’t been around a man like that since...Callan. Still, he’s my late friend’s husband—a widower—and I shouldn’t be thinking inappropriate thoughts, like putting my hands on his hard, naked body, touching his flesh and caressing his hard muscles with my fingertips. Or him touching me in return. Since I broke things off with Brad, I’ve not looked at another man, haven’t wanted to. But there’s something so incredibly safe and warm about Callan. I don’t know. Everything about him draws me in. Probably because he’s big and strong, and comes with his own gravitational pull.
“That’s not true,” he says.
I lift my finger and start checking things off. “Captain of the football team, good student, always nice to everyone. Even the new girls in town. But you were with…” Shit. Shit. Shit. What is the matter with me? I shouldn’t be bringing up painful memories for him. I back up and fall into my chair.
“I was with Zoe,” he says, his body tight.
I shake my head and mentally kick myself. “Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to bring her up.”
He drops down into the chair next to me and pulls it close until our knees are almost touching. “It’s okay to talk about her, Gemma. I like that people remember her.”
I blink through the water in my eyes. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Okay, I just didn’t know.” Without even realizing it, I lean into him, and put my hand on his face, his late day shadow prickly against my palm. “She was the best, Callan.”
His nod is slow, his voice tight when he says, “I know.”
The front door flings open and Callan pushes to his feet and turns toward his daughter as she rushes down the hallway. “I need a drink,” Kaitlyn says.
