3. Callie
CALLIE
I heard the shower start in the master bath. Closing the bedroom door behind me, I sat on the edge of our bed and tried not to hope.
Tonight could be different. It could be like when we were first married.
The water ran on, steam curling under the bathroom door. I'd already changed into the soft cotton nightgown he'd once said he liked, the pale blue one. My hair was down. I'd brushed it twice.
God, what was I even doing?
The shower shut off. Water dripped. I smoothed the quilt beneath my palms and waited, my pulse kicking up in my throat.
Wade came out a few minutes later, a towel around his hips, water still beaded on his shoulders. He didn't look at me. He went straight to the dresser and pulled out a clean shirt.
"Long day," I said.
"Yeah." He dragged the shirt over his head, then reached for a pair of sweatpants. "Yours?"
"It was fine."
He nodded, pulling the pants on. The towel dropped to the floor. He kicked it toward the hamper and missed.
I stood, crossing to him. My stomach flipped, nervous and hopeful at the same time. I touched his arm, letting my hand settle on the warm skin just above his elbow.
"Wade."
He glanced down at my hand, then at my face. "What?"
"Nothing. I just—" I paused, trying to find the words that wouldn't sound needy. "I thought maybe we could talk."
"About what?"
"Just talk," I said.
He stepped back, and my hand fell away. "Callie, I'm beat. It's been a hell of a week already."
"I know. I just thought?—"
"Can it wait?" He was already moving toward the bed, pulling back the covers on his side.
My throat went tight. I stayed where I was, watching him settle against the pillows like this conversation was over. Like I hadn't tried.
"Sure," I said. "It can wait."
He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, squinting at the screen. The blue light washed over his face. I walked to my side of the bed and sat down, smoothing the nightgown over my knees.
Yesterday I'd asked him for time at the rodeo grounds. We'll figure something out, he'd said. Nobody had figured anything out.
Wade didn't look up. "I've got the Bradshaw contracts to finish. Shelby's dad wants everything locked down by the end of the month."
There it was. Shelby again.
He scrolled through something, his jaw working. I wanted to grab the phone out of his hand and make him look at me, really look at me. But I sat there like an idiot instead, staring at my hands in my lap.
The room was too quiet. The air conditioner hummed. Outside, one of the ranch dogs barked twice and then stopped.
I tried one more time.
"Wade, do you remember when we used to stay up half the night talking?" My voice cracked a little. I hated that. "We'd just lie here and talk about everything."
He glanced over, his expression softening just a fraction. "Yeah. I remember."
"We don't do that anymore."
"We're older now." He set the phone down but didn't reach for me. "People get busy. That's just how it is."
"I know, but?—"
"Callie." His voice wasn't unkind, just tired. "What do you want me to say?"
"Nothing," I said. "Never mind."
He picked up his phone again. I lay down on my side, facing away from him, and pulled the covers up to my shoulder. My chest ached. The familiar weight of it settled in, heavy and cold.
Ten years. We'd been trying for a baby for ten years.
At first it was all we talked about. We went to doctors. We tried everything. Wade would hold my hand in the waiting rooms and tell me it would happen. He'd smile at me like I was the only thing that mattered.
But somewhere around year three, the appointments got quieter. And by year four, we stopped making them.
We hadn't seriously tried in six years. I didn't even know when we'd given up.
I blinked against the sting in my eyes. The pillow was cool under my cheek.
Behind me, Wade shifted. The mattress dipped. For a second I thought he might reach for me, put his hand on my shoulder, say something. Anything.
But he didn't.
"Hey," I said, not turning around. My voice came out smaller than I meant it to. "Can I tell you something?"
"Sure."
I rolled onto my back so I could see him. He was still looking at his phone, but he'd lowered it a little. That was something.
"Shelby—" I stopped. "She said some things today."
"What things?" Wade asked, distracted.
"Just the way she talks to me. Like I'm in the way."
He frowned, finally setting the phone aside. "Shelby's fine, Callie. She's just got a lot on her plate with the deal and everything. You're reading too much into it."
"I'm not reading into it. She was?—"
"What did she say, exactly?" He looked at me now, but it wasn't the look I wanted. It was the look he used when he was about to solve a problem with logic, not feeling.
I tried to remember the exact words. The way Shelby had smiled at me at the dining room table, syrup-sweet and sharp at the same time. The way she'd made it sound like I didn't belong in my own house.
"She acts like I'm not there," I said. "Or like I'm just—just part of the furniture."
Wade sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Callie, you're making a mountain out of an anthill."
The words hit me like a slap. I sat up, my hands fisting in the quilt.
"A mountain out of an anthill?"
"Yeah. Shelby's under a lot of pressure right now, and so am I. If she came off a little short with you, I'm sure she didn't mean it."
"I think she did mean it, Wade."
"Come on." He shook his head. "You two just got off on the wrong foot. That's all."
"It's been that way a long time."
"Then maybe you should try being friendlier."
My jaw clenched. Something hot and sharp twisted in my stomach, but I kept my voice even. Calm. I would not lash out. I would not make this worse.
"I am friendly," I said. "I always have been."
"Callie." Wade's tone had gone flat, the way it always did when he thought I was being unreasonable. "Shelby's important to this deal. Her family's important. I need you to work with me here, not against me."
"I'm not against you."
"Then what's the problem?"
"Forget it," I said.
"Callie—"
His phone buzzed on the nightstand. The sound cut through the room like a knife.
Wade glanced at it. His expression shifted, something easing in his shoulders. He picked it up.
"It's Shelby," he said.
Of course it was.
He answered. "Hey. Yeah, I'm here."
I watched him, my hands still twisted in the quilt. He stood, walking toward the window as he talked, and I could hear the change in his voice. It was warmer now. Easier. The exhaustion he'd worn like a coat just a minute ago had lifted.
"No, that's fine," he was saying. "I can look at it tonight. Just send it over."
He laughed at something she said. An actual laugh, low and genuine, the kind I hadn't heard from him in weeks.
My chest felt like someone had reached inside and squeezed. I looked away, staring at the wall.
"Yeah, I'll call you back in a few," Wade said. "Give me twenty minutes."
He hung up and turned to me, already moving toward the door. "I've got to take care of something."
"Now?"
"It won't take long. Shelby needs me to look over some numbers before tomorrow."
He was pulling on jeans now, grabbing a shirt from the closet. He didn't look at me. Didn't see the way I was sitting there, still in the blue nightgown, still hoping.
"Wade, it's late."
"I know. I'll be quick."
"Can't it wait until morning?"
"No." He shoved his phone in his pocket and headed for the door. "I'll be in the office."
And then he was gone. The door clicked shut behind him, and I was alone.
I sat there for a long time, staring at the place where he'd been standing. My hands were shaking. I pressed them flat against my thighs until they stopped.
God, I was so stupid.
I stood, crossing to the closet. I pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt, moving on autopilot. My wedding ring caught the light as I tugged my hair into a ponytail. I looked at it for a second, the thin gold band I'd worn every day for ten years, and then I looked away.
The house was quiet when I slipped out of the bedroom. I could see the light under Wade's office door at the end of the hall. I didn't knock.
I grabbed my keys from the hook by the kitchen door and walked out into the night. The air was cool and smelled like dust and cut hay. The porch light flickered once before I shut it off.
My truck was parked by the barn. I got in, started the engine, and pulled out onto the long gravel drive that led away from the house.
I didn't let myself think. I just drove.
The road stretched out in front of me, dark and empty. My headlights cut through the blackness, illuminating the white line down the center. I thought about calling Jolene. Telling her I was coming. But I didn't.
She'd know why I was there when I showed up.
The ranch disappeared behind me in the rearview mirror. The main house, the barns, the fences. Everything Wade's family had built. Everything I'd married into.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter and kept driving. My throat was tight, my chest aching, but I didn't cry. I never cried.
Wade had taken Shelby's call. He'd given her his time and his warmth and his laugh, the same night he'd been too tired to even look at me.
And I'd let him.
I'd sat there and watched him walk out the door, and I hadn't argued. I hadn't yelled. I hadn't thrown something. I'd just stayed calm, the way I always did, and let him leave.
The road blurred in front of me for a second. I blinked hard and the white line came back into focus.
Jolene's place was twenty minutes away. I'd be there soon.
And then I'd be somewhere Wade wasn't. Somewhere Shelby's name didn't hang in the air like smoke. Somewhere I could breathe.
I pressed the gas pedal a little harder. The truck picked up speed, rattling over the uneven asphalt.
I was leaving. Not forever, maybe. But for tonight.
Wade had made his choice. He'd chosen Shelby's call over me, and he didn't even know what he'd done.
Maybe he never would.