Chapter 12
CALLIE
I’m on Reid’s lap, kissing him, grinding against him, completely his. I’m tingling with pleasure, every part of me begging for more of him, even as I’m liquid with satisfaction deeper than I’ve felt before. A full body massage has nothing on Reid making me come.
I’m so intent on Reid, and the sheer happiness pinging through my blood, I don’t hear my phone at first. It’s upstairs, and the ringtone freezes all the good out of me.
It’s the shrill alarm sound I use for my father.
And it’s not stopping.
It’s late in the evening. We don’t talk casually. He wouldn’t be calling me past nine o’clock unless it was something serious.
“What is it?” Reid’s stroking my back gently, his blue eyes worried.
“My phone’s ringing.” I nearly say to ignore it, but the dutiful daughter isn’t far from the surface, apparently. “I should get it.”
“Of course.” Reid stands and takes me with him, setting me onto my feet, and the silky nightdress falls over my bottom. Almost.
My heart thumps.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” I hope that’s true as I dash upstairs and into my open bedroom, left from where I heard Reid moaning my name when I was on my way back from brushing my teeth. I snatch up my phone.
“Dad?” I’m out of breath. Hopefully he doesn’t notice and ask me about it.
“Is that Callie Flowers?” A woman’s voice stops me short.
“Yes.”
“My name is Nikki. I’m from the police…” The woman continues, but I’m not listening. I know her tone. When she instructs me to sit down, and asks if there’s someone with me, I say yes and continue standing, because I’m familiar with exactly what this is.
And I’m glad.
“I’m sorry to tell you that your father had a fall this evening.”
“Where?” I hear myself ask.
“Down the stairs in his house. It was severe.”
Where my mother died.
“He was pronounced dead at the scene,” she says gently. “It was quick. His neck was broken. He didn’t suffer.”
That’s more than he deserved.
I say appropriate things about thanks and yes, it’s tragic, and I understand the next steps. Then I hang up, and let the feelings emerge.
I breathe through them. Shock, yes. Disbelief.
I wait to see if grief will come through, but all that fades in is the memory of the time my mother broke her hip.
Combined with her Crohn’s that meant she needed to go to the toilet suddenly, it was awful for her for months until it healed.
My father wrinkled his nose and called her disgusting. A shitty wife.
And there were the times he blamed me for ruining his wife. Making her flabby.
I’ll do my duty, as I always have, and ensure he has more dignity than he gave me and my mother. But I don’t think I can mourn him. Except perhaps sadness for the loving father-figure I would have liked to have in my life.
“Callie, are you okay?” Reid knocks on my open door.
All that comes from my mouth is a whimper.
He takes that as an answer, and enters. He must have washed up, because he’s in a pair of jeans and nothing else but the new bandage.
Whatever he sees in my face has him across the room and pulling me to him.
“What is it?” His voice is gruff and low.
My brain swirls. “My dad. He’s dead.”
“Sweetheart, I’m sorry.” Reid’s brows pinch together, but he doesn’t seem surprised.
And the thought shudders down my back, even as I lift onto tiptoes and press into his solid heat.
Reid knew.
My heart lifts and twists. I don’t know how he did it, but I’m not a mafia boss, and Reid is. He killed my father.
“I’m not,” I whisper.
He brings his hand to my temple and smooths my hair from my face.
“Good girl,” he murmurs. “So brave. So strong.”
We stand there for a long time, and there’s this awareness. He knows that I know. I want to say thank you. I want to tell him the secrets of my heart, because I think he’d understand why I can’t be sad about my father’s death.
“What do you need?”
“Probably just some sleep,” I say, because it seems wrong to ask Reid to hold me.
I almost ask him to come to my bed tonight.
I wonder if he considers asking if I want him to stay. But instead, he lets his hands fall, and steps away.
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”