Chapter 10
CAL
Rome is waiting outside the firehouse. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, wearing the expression that says he's not going to like anything I have to say.
He doesn't do casual drop-bys, never has. And the way he's positioned himself between me and my car tells me everything I need to know about how this conversation is going to go.
"Hey."
"Hey."
I toss my bag in the back of the Escalade, taking my time, letting him make the first move.
"We need to talk."
This should be fun.
"That's never a good opener," I say, leaning against the driver's side door, crossing my arms to match his stance, bracing for it.
"It's not meant to be."
"Alright. Talk."
"Lily's been at your house."
There it is. I've been expecting this conversation for weeks. Have rehearsed it while running, while driving, while standing in my kitchen watching Lily exist in every corner of my house like she belongs there.
This confirms what I suspected. She's been keeping the visits secret from him. Smart girl. Also, not my problem.
I meet his stare easily enough as my conscience is technically clean. Technically.
"She visits my dad. He broke his leg. She feels responsible."
Rome doesn't waver. "It does not take weeks and multiple visits to say I am awfully fucking sorry for breaking your leg."
He's not wrong. I've said the same thing myself. But talking to my dad about it is useless, and talking to Lily about it is worse, because she just looks at me and tells me she likes being there and what am I supposed to do with that?
"My dad enjoys her company, man. He's been stuck in that house for weeks. She comes over, she helps with his invoices, she keeps him from losing his mind, and he treats her like the daughter he never had." I hold his stare. "That's it."
Rome gives me the full Rome Moreland look. The one that makes architects twice his age stammer. The one he uses on contractors, city officials, once on a bartender who made the mistake of hitting on Erin. It's never been aimed at me with this much behind it.
"Cal."
I can see the restraint it takes him to just say my name.
I drop my arms, relax my stance. Rome isn't a contractor to stonewall. He's my friend and the crazy thing is, I share every one of his concerns. There's nothing between me and Lily. Nothing real, nothing I've let become real.
"Rome, relax. We've been through this and I told you it was nothing."
He uncrosses his arms, rubs a hand across his forehead.
"Cal, I like you, man. And I don't like very many people."
"Don't make me blush now."
My keys dig into my palm. Nothing about this is funny and we both know it. I've spent years keeping distance from everyone in this town. Fat lot of good it does when I can't create distance from Lily no matter how hard I try.
"She is all the family I have." Rome's voice drops, and when Rome's voice drops, I pay attention. He's usually a vault, hard to read. This is him cracking it open.
"And this gap year of hers has me so stressed and worried she'll lose her future.
Since she was little, all she ever wanted was to be a doctor, and I'm not handling her burnout as well as I should.
I admit that. But she's only twenty-two, man.
That means she's still figuring out who she is and what she wants, and the last thing she needs is... "
"Is what, Rome?" I ask flatly, blood rushing in my ears. "A friend? Because that's all there is."
He pushes off the wall, steps closer. Never aggressive, but Rome knows how to fill a space.
"I told you to stay away from her and now you're friends?"
"And I have." I am pissed now.
"You have no clue how far I stay away from her.
She comes to my house to see my dad. I don't invite her.
I don't text her. I don't show up where she is.
I go to work, I come home, and she's on my living room floor arguing with my father about spreadsheets.
So don't put that on me. Your sister decides where she wants to be. "
"You need to set better boundaries then. She doesn't know..."
That one pisses me off even more.
"Yeah, she fucking does. She's twenty-two, not twelve. She graduated top of her class and she's going to be a doctor and she runs circles around everyone and she's sharper than half the people in this town, including you and me. Don't talk about her like she can't think for herself."
Rome's eyebrows go up. I hear myself, hear the heat in my own voice. The way I just defended her to her brother with more fire than a man with "nothing going on" should have.
His brows pull together into a frown, more the Rome we all know.
"I just mean she's not stupid," I add, quieter now.
"No. She's not."
He studies me with an expression I can't read.
"I won't ask her not to come by," I say, firmer now. "When she comes by for her friend. My father."
I see him working through it, trying to find a hole, an angle to push. There isn't one.
"If you've got a problem with how often she's there, that's a conversation you need to have with her. Not me."
"Oh, I will. But I'm having it with you, too."
"There's no need for this. You made yourself loud and clear. Crystal clear, in fact. And I have zero intention of starting anything with your sister."
Every word comes out sure and true. They taste like ash.
Zero intentions. And yet I can't sleep without thinking about her.
Can't close my eyes without seeing that sweater slipping off her shoulder, bare skin catching lamplight.
I replay every time she walked past me, then spend the next hour thinking about gripping those hips, pressing her against the counter, finding out what sound she'd make if I put my mouth where her neck meets her shoulder.
Zero intention. But the want lived in my hands, my jaw, my teeth.
His shoulders drop half an inch. He's protective, but not unreasonable. He knows I don't bullshit. He knows I don't break promises.
He holds me in that stare for a long moment. The parking lot is empty except for the B-shift guys loading equipment too far away to hear. Late afternoon sun hits the firehouse and I stand there, keeping my face still.
"Okay," he finally says.
"Okay?"
He nods once, scrubs a hand through his hair. The closest he gets to looking uncertain.
"Erin says she's happy here. In Harbor Hill."
"She seems happy."
"Good." His voice softens, just a fraction. "I don't want anyone messing that up for her, Cal. She's had enough people let her down."
"So have you."
I mean it. The Morelands were raised by two people who bailed too easily. Rome spent his whole life making up for that. He's the only parent Lily ever had. He's not being an asshole right now. He's doing the only job that ever mattered to him.
He claps me on the shoulder. "I'll see you Saturday?"
"Yeah."
I watch him drive away, then get in my own car and sit there with both hands on the wheel, dash screen glowing, staring at nothing.
Nothing is going to happen. The problem is I've been saying that for months, and each time it feels lighter. Like a coin you keep spending until one day there's nothing left in your pocket.
I think about last night, handing her a plate of pasta. Nothing dramatic, just those gray eyes over the food and a quiet "thank you, Callahan" that made me forget how to let go of the plate.
I turn on the engine and sit another minute, listening to whatever playlist she left on before meeting Ramsey.
The pub is quiet for a Thursday. Ramsey is already at our usual table with two beers and his calm, unshakeable presence. He pushes one toward me before I even sit down.
"You look like shit."
"Thanks, Rams."
"Rome?"
I take a long pull of my beer. "How'd you know?"
"He called me this morning asking if I knew Lily was spending time at your place. When I said yes, he asked why I didn't tell him. I said because it wasn't my business and he could talk to his sister like a grown-up." He takes a sip of his own beer. "He didn't love that answer."
"He came to the firehouse."
"And?"
"And I told him nothing was happening and he believed me." I set the bottle down, start peeling at the edge of the label. "Because nothing is happening."
Ramsey watches me over his beer. He has all night and no intention of letting me get away with this. His silences are worse than other people's interrogations.
"Nothing is happening," I say again, as if repetition will make it true.
"Cal..."
"What?"
"You walked into a doorframe last week because she bent down to pick up her bag."
"Who told you about that?"
“Poppy. And everyone else."
I close my eyes, briefly consider moving to another country because anything else is still too damn close.
I had caught myself before actually hitting the frame. But yes. Lily had bent down to pick up her bag in the tightest jeans ever created by man, all that hair falling to one side, and I lost my fucking mind. Again.
"Ruth needs a hobby."
"Ruth's hobby is you. You're the most entertaining thing in this town right now and you don't even know it." He turns serious on me again. "So. Nothing is happening?"
"Nothing is happening."
"But you want it to."
I peel more label. The bottle is getting shredded. Ramsey waits, says nothing, letting me come to it. We've never minded silence.
"It doesn't matter what I want."
"Why not?"
"Because she's Rome's sister. Because she's twenty-two. Because I promised Rome. Because my dad is already too attached. Because this town is too small. Because I don't do this."
"That's six reasons and not one of them is about what you actually want." He leans back in his chair, patient as ever. "What do you want, Cal?"
I finish my beer and stare at the shredded label like it has answers.
"She wears glasses."
I don't know why that's the thing that comes out. Of everything, of all the ways I could explain this, my mouth chose that.