Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
GAVIN
Did those words truly leave my mouth? I have found myself starting to think these things when I’m around Callie, but I’ve yet to boldly say anything of the sort. It’s not wise. It’s playing with fire.
She’s the fire. I’m…what? Paraffin oil? Petrol? Something dangerously flammable.
Callie’s brown eyes rake over my face. “If you don’t want the night to end, then you must want to keep playing the game.”
She reaches for the deck of cards, but I put my hand over hers. “Enough Rubbish.”
“Fine. But only if we call it a tie. We both win.”
Am I prepared for this? “Pause. We can finish tomorrow. Remember what round you’re on, I’ll remember mine, and we’ll pick up where we left off. That’s fair.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Fair and boring, but I’ll agree to it on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You show me what book you’ve been working on.”
The blood seeps from my body. Is there a drain in the floor beneath me?
Because that’s where it all disappeared to.
How did she know I started working on a book?
That watching her with Patty sparked an idea in me today I couldn’t quite shake until I got preliminary sketches down.
Callie reminded me of a chirpy little bird, and somehow the rest of the story—or what I have so far at least—just came together.
Callie isn’t the main character, but she certainly inspired it.
None of that explains how she picked up on the fact that I’ve been writing another children’s book. “How’d you know?”
“You were in the office for so long, I assumed. Now your face is giving you away.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve drawn.”
“Can I see it?”
Usually I hold my projects close to my chest until they feel as near to perfect as I can get them, but I want Callie’s opinion on this, which is a foreign concept to me.
Perhaps because she’s a foreigner.
“Alright, Sassenach. Come on.”
Callie squeals, jumping to her feet. Her eyes crinkle giddily. “Bucket list!”
A chuckle rumbles through my chest as I shut off the lights and lead her up the stairs. Aye, that was a calculated use of the word merely because I know she wants to hear it. Aye, I said it to make her happy.
Aye, her smile was worth it.
When we reach the office door, reality bears down upon me.
Maybe it comes from a lifetime of trying to make myself likable enough for my parents to want me around—but the thought of doing anything to make myself less likable to Callie feels so stressful it’s tangible.
It’s a thickness surrounding me I’m forced to wade through.
I push through it and open the door.
To find my dad sitting at my desk already, the computer powered on and the small desk light shining over him.
He shoots a look over his shoulder and something passes over his face before he gives me a relieved laugh. “Oh good. I’m glad you’re here, Gav. I can’t get into this thing. Why do you need a password? You live alone.”
“Old habit, I reckon.” My feet won’t move.
The room is dark except for where my dad is sitting, the pool of yellow light falling over his face and making the bags under his eyes look heavier.
His initial expression flashed too quickly for me to catch it, but something about it leaves me with a strange uneasiness. “Did you need something?”
“Your mum is watching one of those Christmas movies on the telly, so I thought I’d start on my book.”
“Oh, of course.” Still, I don’t move.
“I can’t wait to hear the foreword,” Callie says, slipping past me into the room. “Your adventures sound incredible.”
“We’ve met some of the most wonderful people. You’ll be so amazed.”
“I’ll be first in line when it hits shelves.” The way she says it, I totally believe her.
Dad looks between us. “Were you coming in here for the computer?”
That wasn’t the initial plan, but currently, I feel a little uneasy granting him total access. I can’t put my finger on why, but something doesn’t feel right. From the moment he and Mum arrived, things have felt strange, and I have the impression I should wait.
“Actually we were. Sorry, Dad.”
“No, no. Dinna fash yourself. I’ll just go watch that program with your mum.” He passes us and we step out of the way for him to leave the office.
“Good night, Dad.”
“Good night.”
After he leaves, I close the door and turn the light on. The drawings are done with pencil on sketch paper, with a few on my iPad that I don’t feel the need to bring out yet. “These are rough, Callie.”
“I’m not an artist. I would probably find your stick figures impressive, okay?”
“I don’t draw stick figures.”
“See, you’re already ahead.”
Shaking my head, I sit at the desk and pull out my notepad, then flip to the page I started on today.
The plump little bird is standing on the edge of a snow-covered pine, watching two children—a lad and a lass.
When they move through the trees, the bird peeks around the branch, then hops to another to watch the kids.
Each scene is the children taking the sled higher up the hill through the trees and the bird follows, watching them giggle and play. Then the bird tries to join the children on the sled.
Callie sits against the edge of my desk. She reads each page with the bird’s thoughts as it follows the kids. I move to the final page and it stops.
“What happens next?”
“I’m still figuring that out.”
She leans her hands back on the desk. “You don’t know?”
“Every story is different. Some of them come to me all at once and others are in bits.” I rub the back of my neck. “What do you think?”
“I love the bird. He looks so lonely, and I want to point him out to the kids. It’s like they don’t even see him.”
Am I that obvious? Leaning back in my chair, I look at Callie and nod. “He wants to join them, but he can’t. He’s a bird and they’re people.”
“If they invite him, he could sit on the front of the sled and ride down the hill with them.”
That had been my thought. “But he’s a bird. He doesn’t need to ride a sled. He can fly.”
Callie tilts her head to the side, gazing into my face like she can read my soul. “On their sled, he wouldn’t be flying alone.”
I swallow hard. “Should I have the children notice him?”
“Yes.”
“Even if real life doesn’t mirror this situation most of the time?”
Callie eases herself onto the desk so she’s sitting beside my sketchbook, looking at me. Her legs swing over the side and it looks like she’s thinking hard. “What are you hoping for this to say to the kids who read it?”
That’s a loaded question. First, I’d have to figure out what I want to feel myself. All I know is I’m that bird, and no matter what I do, I don’t feel like I can join the two people who should mean the most to me on their epic adventures.
Maybe the problem isn’t that they don’t want me to join them. I don’t think there is an active thought in either of my parents’ heads to not include me. It’s that they don’t notice whether or not I’m around to begin with.
“I have some experience watching from afar and wishing I was included,” I say vaguely.
“I’m sure other kids have felt the same, but I’m stuck at this point in the book.
The bird could be noticed by the kids. He could be included and enjoy a ride down the hill.
I worry it sends a message that the people who ignore you will one day change. ”
Callie’s legs stop swinging. “Your parents.”
“Am I so transparent?”
She shrugs, and it looks cute. “Things seemed a little strained.”
“That’s accurate. And I’m nearly thirty. I don’t want the children who read this book and identify with this bird to hear the message that things will improve over time, because sometimes they don’t.”
“Have you talked to your parents, told them how you feel?”
“No.”
“Maybe they don’t know.” She sounds hopeful.
I want to argue that they’re too old to be oblivious, but that’s not true, is it?
“They’ve always had a relaxed parenting style.
I never took it to mean they didn’t love me when they would forget to feed me dinner or leave me at a mate’s house until ten because they forgot to pick me up.
My mum is so easily consumed in my dad or whatever new thing has caught her attention that she loses track of time.
I can’t expect her to change. I shouldn’t teach children to expect change, either. ”
“No, I agree. That wouldn’t be healthy. They can only control themselves.” She dips her chin. “Same with you. So how do you control the situation, or your feelings, in a healthy way?”
“I taught myself to cook. Started riding my bike to my friend’s houses so I could get home on my own. Found adults who could sign my permission forms.”
“Nessa?”
I sit forward. Callie’s thigh is resting beside my forearm on the desk. “Aye, Granny has done a lot for me over the years.”
“You’re so strong, Gavin. Not everyone has the strength to do those things.”
“It was borne of necessity.”
Callie leans forward and puts her hands on my shoulders.
Her position is precarious enough that were I to move, she would fall.
Her trust in me fills a void. “You still made those choices. You could just as easily have sat back and waited for things to change. I don’t know why you feel the need to deflect compliments, but I’m right. You are incredible.”
Her praise is like fire over my body, threading through her fingers into my shoulders, down my chest. My heart thuds from her nearness, the fruity scent of the pastilles she was snacking on after dinner, and the deep, serious look in her brown eyes.
She draws her bottom lip into her mouth, and her white teeth sink into it.
I lose all sense of sanity. Those two front teeth are the only things I can focus on.
She’s so close to me now, her hands digging into my shoulders. When I force my gaze away from her mouth, I find her looking at my lips.
Okay. Great. So we both want to kiss. Would that be so bad? Why did I stop her before?
Oh, right. Because she’s my guest, she doesn’t live here, and in a week and a half she’ll be returning to California. With no hope of a future, making out with her now is only going to end badly.
“It kind of feels like you want to kiss me,” she whispers.
“Because I do.”
“Then you will be very proud of my restraint.”
Proud? Restraint is the last thing I want from her right now.
I swallow, my throat dry and scratchy. If she’s worried about the emotional connection, we have that.
I care about her. Maybe we don’t know each other very well yet, but I definitely enjoy her company.
I like her. Callie is a good person. I would certainly call her a friend.
But how could I try to tempt her into anything when I know she has less than two weeks left in Scotland? It’s the hardest bloody thing I’ve done in a long time, but I take her gently by the wrists and shift her until she’s sitting up again. The space between us makes it easier to keep a clear head.
I stand while Callie bends her neck, looking up at me.
“Being mature is hard,” she mutters.
Do we have to be? I’ve had to be the adult in my own life for so much of it, the temptation to toss aside what I know to be the smart decision coils inside me like a taut snake.
Her brown eyes are deep, reflecting the yellow light in the ceiling above us, and I have my answer.
Despite what I want, I respect this woman too much to toy with her emotions.
Callie pushes off the desk until she’s standing right in front of me. Our bodies are so close I can feel her thigh press into mine. If she wasn’t leaning back to look me in the eye, I think we would be nearly embracing.
My heart kicks into overdrive. Can you have a heart attack merely from wanting someone?
“We’re still friends,” Callie says. “And friends hug.”
Can she hear my pulse? I’m certain it’s shaking the entire house. “Aye, that they do, American Sassenach.”
Her eyes flash. She slides her hands around my back and lays her head on my chest. Her ear is pressed beneath my collarbone. If she didn’t know how badly I wanted her before, she knows now.
“This feels nice,” Callie says.
She has no idea. I inhale the scent of her shampoo and memorize how perfectly she fits in my arms. We won’t be able to hug like this in front of anyone else, so I’m not going to waste this moment.
Breathing deeply, I hold her tighter, and she melts into me. This is what heaven feels like. It would be so easy to lean down, so simple to brush my lips against hers. There is nothing getting in the way of the smallest—
“Thank you, Gavin,” she says quietly.
I glance down at her and smile, unsure what she’s thanking me for. “We should go.”
“Probably a good idea.” Her laugh is loose. When she steps out of my arms, I feel like I’ve lost something, and I immediately want to hold her again.
Och, for the love of all things. I think I’m falling for Callie.