Chapter 14
fourteen
CAL
“How come you haven’t released a statement about Cora’s mom?” Harlow asks as soon as she steps into the kitchen. It’s too early for serious conversations. Not that it stops her.
“I don’t want them digging up any skeletons from Bailey’s closet.”
“She had skeletons?” Harlow asks, stealing the coffee I just poured myself. I glare at her, but she just grins.
“No idea. I didn’t know her that well, but I kind of feel like I owe it to her since she’s not alive to defend herself,” I admit.
Harlow tilts her head as she mulls that over. “Makes sense,” she agrees.
“Have you heard from your dad?” I ask, curious about Ezra’s phone.
She sighs. “Yeah. He said he wants to talk with you guys in person later.”
“Is that good or bad?”
Harlow shrugs. “Could be either. He didn’t give anything away.” She looks around the kitchen. “Where’s Cora?”
“My dad had the day off, so he took her over to Belle’s.”
Which leaves me alone in my house with the woman I can barely resist. Even when I was angry with her yesterday, I still wanted her. I think that just infuriated me even more.
She has my balls in a vise, and I just want to thank her for it.
What the fuck is happening to me?
When she said she was staying last night, I almost crossed that line. Part of me really wishes I had. I still think about the way her lips felt against mine and the sound she made when she came all over my hand.
I clear my throat and sidestep so the island is hiding the tenting in my pants.
I watch as Harlow takes a sip of my coffee and spits it right back into the mug.
“Callahan Elizabeth Griffin! Is there rum in this coffee?”
I bark out a shocked laugh. “My middle name is not Elizabeth.”
“Rum at eight in the morning?”
I shrug. “It’s the first time I had an actual day off, and I was celebrating.”
She dumps out the contents of the mug into the sink and places it in the dishwasher.
“I have a better idea,” she says, grabbing my hand and pulling me along with her.
“Where are we going?”
“The basement.”
“You want to use the gym? I already worked out this morning.” Although I could go for an entirely different type of workout right now.
“Not the gym,” she says, pulling me down the stairs. I freeze in place.
“You want to go to the recording studio?” Those are the only two things down here, and I can’t figure out why she’d need to use the studio. I’ve heard her sing.
Oh no. What if she thinks she can sing?
“I’m not going to sing.”
“I said that out loud?”
Harlow laughs. “No, but the panic on your face wasn’t hard to read.”
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“You know what your dad told me the other day?” she asks, continuing to pull me along.
“I didn’t do whatever it was.”
She laughs again and what I wouldn’t give to hear that sound on repeat forever.
Harlow stops in front of the door to the small recording studio and turns to me. “He told me that you play guitar and used to write poetry.”
“Guitar is Kai’s thing and writing is Belle’s,” I say, backing away. She stops me with a look and a tug on my hand.
“Kai doesn’t own all guitars and Belle isn’t the only person alive that can write a song, Cal.”
“What do you want from me?” I whisper.
“I want to sit with you as you write or sing or play off the feelings you have right now. The ones you’re pushing down because you’re putting everyone else’s first.”
I gape at her. “Uh . . .”
“Let’s go,” she says, pulling me into the room and shutting the door. She leaves me standing there as she takes a seat on the couch.
“I don’t know what to do,” I admit, pulling on my neck anxiously.
“Whatever feels right. Yell into the mic. Strum on the guitar. Write down how mad you were at me last night in that notebook over there,” she gestures to a notebook that wasn’t in here before.
“You don’t have to stay in here,” I tell her, watching as she puts headphones on and pulls up a book on her phone.
“Yes, I do. You’ll just nap on the couch if I don’t.” She turns away from me and leaves me in shock to look around the room and figure out what to do.