Chapter 8 #2
He settled behind the wheel and started the golf cart with an ease that sent her back to their caddie days, recalling a time when he wasn’t so graceful, tripping as he hustled after his guardian and spilling Gavin’s expensive clubs all over the green.
Calista recalled cringing and waiting for Gavin to explode on Reid the way her father would have detonated on her.
But Gavin had not. As Reid scrambled to gather the clubs, Gavin made a self-deprecating joke about his bad habit of club hoarding and overloading his bag, put a reassuring hand on Reid’s shoulder, and helped him pick up the irons and woods.
Meanwhile, Benjamin, as part of the foursome they’d been caddying for, snapped his fingers for Calista to follow him to the next fairway, muttering, “Clumsy putz.”
At that moment, Calista had wished with a desperate yearning that Gavin was her father or at least her guardian.
Unbidden, her gaze now went to Reid’s profile. His wavy brown hair tousled from the wind, and his plain white T-shirt stretched across shoulders that were broader than she remembered.
“So . . .” He winked at her. Oh, that dangerous wink! “Ostriches, huh? And here I thought the wildest thing on this island was Eloisa’s hat collection.”
Calista snorted. “Trust me, I was just as surprised. One minute I’m having a walk through nature, the next I’m living out a real-life simulation of Angry Birds.”
Chuckling, Reid navigated the cart down the hill, slowing over dips and bumps in the road. She appreciated his consideration. “If it makes you feel any better, I almost got taken out by an aggressive seagull who was after my breakfast muffin in Everly this morning.”
“Oh, the horror.”
They lapsed into silence, underscored by the sound system playing Jack Johnson’s “I Got You.”
The soothing, beachy stylings sent the sweet lyrics straight to her heart. Calista stole glances at Reid’s profile, noting the faint lines at the corners of his eyes that hadn’t been there when she’d last seen him five years ago.
“Cal?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry.”
Calista’s brain short-circuited. “For what? The ostrich incident? I’m fairly sure that’s not on you.”
“I meant Chevron and what I said at the clubhouse that day. The relentless way I reported on your leaving.”
“You didn’t just drop the story after I left golf. You kept chasing me. You even came to my condo. Why? Was it just a slow news cycle, or did you enjoy kicking me while I was down?”
He winced. “I wasn’t chasing a story. I was chasing you. I thought if I got you mad enough, you’d pick up a club and start swinging again.”
“So you decided to ‘help’ by harassing me? Great strategy.”
“I was an idiot, okay? I thought you’d realize how much the sport needed you. I didn’t think you’d hate me for it.”
“Hmm.” She eyeballed him, scared to trust this man.
He fixed his gaze on her. “The way I turned into human spam afterward? It wasn’t cool, and I’m sorry.”
The apology blindsided Calista harder than that rogue Frisbee at last year’s company picnic. She’d spent so long pretending that chapter of her life didn’t exist, and here was Reid, reminding her it did.
“Sorry?” She raised an eyebrow. “What? Did you trip and accidentally write those vlogs about me?”
Reid’s face crumpled. “I know it fixes nothing, but I want to make amends if you’ll let me.”
Calista suddenly found the passing trees fascinating. Anything to avoid those puppy eyes that made her want to forgive him and then kick herself for even considering it. “Leaving the tour was the smartest thing I ever did, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell. You made me feel unhinged.”
The golf cart puttered along. The two of them were alone out here, and what felt like every poor decision Calista had ever made all lined up to watch the show.
Reid clutched the steering wheel like a life preserver. “If I could go back and knock some sense into past me, I would. Hard. Repeatedly. With a one wood.”
Calista’s heart fluttered. Dammit. His voice did that thing—that soft, sincere thing that made her want to believe him, but the part of her brain that got third-degree burns screamed danger.
“Words are just words, Reid. Even pretty ones.”
He glanced at her. A look so loaded it should’ve come with a warning label. “I’m here, aren’t I? That’s not nothing.”
Calista’s mind felt like a browser with too many tabs open. One part wanted to believe in this apologetic Reid, who was all grown up and sorry. The other part was frantically googling “how to tell if someone’s actually changed or if you’re just being a sucker again.”
“Being here is . . . something,” she said, softer than she intended. “But it doesn’t undo how hard it was to rebuild, to find any scrap of normalcy. I don’t trust you. How do I know you’re not just here for a scoop?”
Reid stopped the cart and turned to her with an intensity reserved for people about to confess love or admit to murder. “Let me help. Let me be part of that normal, even if I have to earn it one painfully awkward conversation at a time.”
Contrition looked good on him.
Calista felt poised on the high dive above a deep pool of trust issues. The water below could be refreshing—or filled with sharks wearing party hats. The real question? Did she still remember how to swim?
“You were just doing your job,” she said, aiming for nonchalance and missing by a mile.
“No, it wasn’t just about the job. I thought you deserved to know the truth, but I didn’t think about how it would hurt you—or what it would cost you.
When you walked away from golf, I blamed myself.
I didn’t want you to give up the thing you loved most because of something I told you.
” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair.
“But I see now that it wasn’t about you, not really.
It was about me, trying to fix what I broke, trying to make myself feel better.
I didn’t think about what you needed, and for that, I’ll never stop being sorry. ”
For the first time, Calista saw something new in Reid—not just regret, but a vulnerability that felt genuine. Maybe he really had been trying to save her all along, in his own messy way.
The cart bumped over a large tree root, jostling Calista’s ankle. She winced, using the pain to gather her thoughts.
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“Well, we are on this island together.” Reid paused, and when he spoke again, his low voice almost got lost in the island breeze. “Because I’ve regretted what I did every day for the past five years.”
Calista turned to look at him, taking in the set of his jaw and the way his eyes darted to her for just a second before focusing back on the path.
“Reid—”
“You don’t have to say anything. I’m not expecting forgiveness or . . . anything, really. I just needed you to know.”
Calista nodded, not trusting herself. The walls she’d constructed wobbled, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to shore them up or let them fall, especially with this guy.
He gave her his best dashing grin and changed the topic. “So, other than your thrilling ornithological adventures, how are you finding Hobby Island?”
Grateful for the lifeline of a topic change, Calista latched onto it. “It’s . . . not what I expected. Everything’s so quaint and colorful . . . whimsical. It’s like stepping into a storybook.”
“I know, right? I half expect to see woodland creatures helping with the laundry.”
“Please,” Calista scoffed. “As if Eloisa would trust a bunch of squirrels with the linens.”
They laughed together, and for a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all, as if they were still those two teenagers, sharing jokes and stolen kisses between rounds of golf.
Back before he dumped her and broke her heart.
Back before he went off to college at Columbia. Back before she turned pro.
But they weren’t those kids anymore.
“I’ve missed this. Talking to you. Making you laugh.” Sadness watered down his grin.
Calista’s heart did a complicated somersault. “Reid . . .”
“I know, I know.” He held up a hand in surrender. “We’re not here to rehash the past. I just . . . I’m glad to see you again. Even if it’s under these circumstances.”
Calista nodded, not quite able to echo the sentiment but not wanting to dismiss it either.
Instead, she focused on the path ahead, watching as Crafters’ Corner came into view.
The quaint village square bustled with activity.
Vibrant banners fluttered in the breeze, and mingled scents surfed the air—freshly baked bread, sunscreen, coconuts, saltwater taffy.
“Looks like orientation is wrapping up.” Reid maneuvered the cart around clusters of chatting guests.
She scanned the crowd. “Do you see Athena?”
“Not right off the bat. Want me to help you look for your sister? It’s annoying that you can’t just text her.”
“Yeah, it is, but I’m fine. I don’t need you. I can find Athena myself,” Calista said.
“Huh?” A flash of hurt in Reid’s eyes.
Ouch, okay, that was curt. “I mean, I’m sure my sister is around somewhere. Perhaps headed back to the Lavender Lark. I can manage on my own.”
“Not with that ankle. We’re getting you some help.” He drove to the golf cart parking area and glanced around. “Where’s medical triage?”
“I dunno. I missed orientation.” She let out a giggle.
“Be right back.” He hopped from the cart and headed toward a kiosk underneath a Visitors Center sign.
She watched him go, and felt a strange tugging in her stomach.
What was that all about? He spoke to the couple operating the kiosk.
A brisk-looking woman in blue scrubs appeared.
Reid and the woman turned toward her. Bystanders stared.
Feeling sheepish, Calista lifted a hand.
She hated that she’d gotten hurt and drawn attention to herself.
Reid hurried to her side. “The nurse practitioner said to bring you on to the clinic.”
She swung her injured ankle out of the cart, and he wrapped his arm around her waist again. She didn’t much like it, but she was glad he was there for her to lean on, just for a moment. Then her foolish mind wondered what might have happened if . . .
Nope. Stop it. Things had played out the way they’d played out. Not daydreaming of mystical what-ifs.
They made their way across the quad, and the nurse practitioner motioned them into the small clinic tucked between the bookstore and the metalwork shop.
“This way.” The efficient-looking woman with gunmetal-gray curls and a stethoscope around her neck led them into an exam room. She looked to Reid. “Can you help her onto the table?”
“I’ve got this,” Calista said to the nurse. To Reid, she said, “You can go now.”
He ignored her, guiding her to sit on the exam table covered in crisp white paper that crinkled beneath her.
“I’m Belinda,” the nurse said. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“Don’t you need my insurance or something?” Calista winced and thought about her deductible.
“No charge. You’re Eloisa’s guest. She pays the medical bills for anything that happens on the island.”
“Really?”
Belinda’s smile widened. “Really. Well, she is a billionaire and generous to a fault. Now, just relax and let me check out that ankle. What happened?”
“Bulldozed by an ostrich.”
“That’s Shushu.” Belinda slid the sandal off Calista’s foot and prodded her ankle with gentle fingers. “She’s a naughty girl, but she loves to race. Eloisa rescued her from ostrich racing after she injured a wing.”
Calista arched her eyebrows. “Ostrich racing is a thing?”
“Sadly, yes.” Belinda scowled. “Which is why Eloisa gave Shushu a forever home. But the bird never lost her love for racing.”
Interested, Calista asked, “How did Eloisa find out about Shushu?”
Belinda shook her head. “That’s not my place to say. We try not to gossip on Hobby Island.”
Reid leaned forward, his nose twitching as if smelling a story. That’s when the clinic door burst open, and Athena stalked in. Her sister took one look at Calista on the table and Reid standing beside her.
Immediately, Athena rounded on him. “What did you do to my little sister, you unethical muckraker!”