13. Callie Rae
Callie Rae
I swing the car door shut, my hands smoothing out my leggings after. Postmodern lines and country charm merge across the exterior of Brant’s house.
My eyes snap to Brant’s Tacoma parked next to a similar pickup in the driveway. I’m reminded that he lives with his roommate from college, and that would’ve been something to recall.
Especially before I decided to rearrange my Saturday morning plans.
Nice one, Callie.
I halt on the concrete driveway when the front door swings open. A man walks onto the wood beams of the wrap-around porch, his windswept hair peeking out of the hood of his black zip-up.
He pins a squinted gaze to me. “Hello,” he greets before gulping a sip from his coffee. “Can I help you?”
I nod, my throat cocking with brief regret. “Y-yeah, I’m looking for Brant,” I say. “Is he here?”
Sean, I assume, straightens behind the metal railing while cradling the mug to his chest. His free hand burrows in his sweatpants pocket, and then he’s angling his head to the side. “Yeah, he’s out back.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I sigh, planting my fingers to my forehead. When I lift my head back up, my eyes meet his brown hues. “I should introduce myself. I’m Callie.”
His brows shoot up. “As in … Callie Rae?”
“Yes.”
He shakes his head, his eyes narrowing as he points to the side of the house.
On cue, a cracking sound echoes from behind the fence, and my belly ravels with nerves.
“W-wait a second, does Brant know about this? Does he know you’re here?
” Sean’s stare burns into me, perplexed at the idea of me standing in front of him.
Like it’s a phenomenon he never thought he’d be alive long enough to witness.
And then, I understand.
I tip my head to the side. “Well, he doesn’t know I’m here right now,” I clarify. “But he knows I’m around. We ran into each other a couple weeks ago.”
Sean’s dazed expression is accompanied by a lopsided smile. Then he’s wagging his head. “Holy shit,” he murmurs, marching down the porch steps. “I’m gonna kill this motherfucker.”
His feet are clothed in only white socks, but he treads down the curve of the driveway to meet me. My grin blooms when he draws closer, my hand reaching for his extended one. “It’s so nice to meet you. It’s Sean, right?”
He bobs his head as he nestles my palm in his. It’s warm and welcoming. Heartfelt, just like Brant. As if he’s granting me a warp tunnel to the last ten years of Brant’s life. I swear I can feel every adventure I missed with the boy I left in that trailer park.
I’d stay here forever if I could.
My fingers curl around him tighter, but he slips away too soon. “Yeah, that’s right,” he answers.
I purse my lips from the sudden loss, a subtle flush spreading across my skin at my supposed reputation.
“Callie Rae,” he simply states. He peels his hood off before gently nodding in disbelief. “If I had a penny for every time Brant mentioned you in the past ten years, I could put Jeff Bezos’ wealth to shame.”
I breathe out a chuckle, tossing my attention over his broad shoulder.
“I love the splash of country vibes.” I wave my hand over the structure of their house, only to lock my eyes with Sean’s again.
“Brant tells me your uncle owns this place. He can’t seem to rave enough about his roommate from Yorkstone. ”
“Eh.” He pops a shoulder, briefly peeking behind him. “It’s on the smaller scale, but it’s just the two of us making ends meet right now.”
Faint sunlight breaks through the clouds, casting a buttery halo around Sean. I decide it suits him, having been the friend Brant deserved all these years. And maybe if I stare long enough, his crystalized hues will highlight all the stories I missed Brant write.
“I think it’s perfect,” I finally respond.
A silent pause stretches over a few beats before he cocks a smile. “Can I interest you in a coffee or something?” His eyes gently squint. “I’m a pretty shitty host, but Brant would most definitely strangle me if I didn’t offer you anything. I’m sure you know how he is.”
I nod, a smirk emerging. “Yeah, I know.”
His heart is bigger than a damn ocean.
My focus springs to the familiar cracking sound from the backyard. A series of tiny thuds follow, and my brows knit.
“Here, let me walk you to the back.”
Sean’s already steering himself to the side. I follow him across the lawn, and he unlatches the fence door to swing it open.
The yard is spacious and quiet.
“Hey, Brant!” Sean calls while leading us across the grass. “If you ever want to know about the cool, revolutionary shit that happens in my life, you’re not being told anything from now on. What the fuck, bro.”
Brant’s puzzled voice rings through. We round the rear corner of the house, the smell of fresh-cut wood mingling with the crisp air. My palms land on my zip-up hoodie, attempting to suffocate the way my belly prances at the sight of Brant.
His long legs are wrapped in Wrangler jeans. The carved muscles of his arms are hidden by the unbuttoned flannel over his tank top. His hard chest and abs leak through the white fabric, and my pulse pounds against my throat.
“Callie.” Brant peels his tan boot off the rim of the chopping block.
“Yeah, Callie,” Sean pipes up beside me. “Thanks for the heads up about your little reunion.” Brant peeks to his side to drop the axe, unbothered by Sean’s remarks. Then he walks toward us, but Sean’s already flipping him off. “No worries. I introduced myself and offered her a drink.”
“Thanks,” Brant quips with a smirk.
Sean shakes his head as he backpedals away. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Callie Rae.”
“Likewise,” I call over my shoulder.
“I promise he’s normal most days,” Brant says. “Hope he didn’t give you too much of a jump scare.”
I return my attention to Brant, my grin widening. “Not at all. He was more than welcoming.”
His almond-shaped eyes linger on me. “What’s goin’ on? You came to say hi?” There’s a craving woven in his stare.
My shoulder casually jerks. “I was at the gym. Just figured I’d swing by,” I answer, my voice vacuumed of conviction.
“Oh, yeah?” he offers, turning to relocate to the scattered chunks of wood. “What kind of workout routine do you have?”
I eventually stroll toward him, my fingers whisking a loose strand of my high ponytail away. “Weight training. After college, I realized it was more enjoyable than cardio.”
Brant picks his axe up, only to prop his boot on the chopping block. He stands the axe upside down, resting his forearms atop the butt of it. “That’s commendable,” he replies. “I can’t tell you how many women believe that weight training will make them look like Arnold Schwarzenegger.”
A guilty smirk draws on my face. “I can’t say I wasn’t those women.”
He sprouts a perfect smile, our eyes stitching under the daylight when he says, “It’s nice to see you like this.” A jolt of heat bounces from my stomach to my throat. “In the morning.”
I inhale tentatively, my palms landing on my lower back when I dip my gaze. “Is wood cutting a hobby?”
“It’s a release,” he replies. “But also gives me a reason to use our firepit.”
My eyes pop to him. “A release?”
I drag my focus over the thin layer of sweat tracing his clipped hairline. His Adam’s apple bobs under his sculpted jaw, and my eyes drop to the damp skin of his forearms. There’s tension lathering him—familiar stress that drops a tiny bomb in my belly.
It’s ready to detonate any minute.
“Yeah,” he confirms, planting his boot on the grass. When he bends to grab a slender log, he stands it upright on the chopping block. “This is my last one, just move to the side for me.”
My arms tangle across my chest when I veer to the right. I keep my eyes on him, and he swings the axe down to split the log in two clean pieces.
I jerk from the sharp crack, my teeth grazing my lower lip as he bends down.
He effortlessly flicks the two chunks into the pile of mangled wood, only to prop his boot on the chopping block to wrench the axe out.
Once the blade is plucked free, he tosses the axe on the grass before walking straight to the shed.
My legs carry me over to him when he opens the paneled door. “I make you mad? Is that what this is?”
“Please, I didn’t even know you were coming,” he spits back, clearly humored by me.
I point to the pile of chopped wood. “But that’s what this is all about, huh?”
I invade his space, forcing him to peer down at me. “Believe it or not, this is the one thing that has nothing to do with you,” he retorts, plucking a bandana from a mounted hook. “Not directly, at least.”
My head follows him when he strolls past me. He’s wiping his hands with the red handkerchief, only to stuff it in his back pocket.
The bomb explodes.
Its eruption floods every pore of my body. Stirring my nerves into overdrive when he delivers the subtext.
Daddy.
This is about Daddy.
A few logs are nestled in the crook of Brant’s arm as he closes the distance between us. My lips part, hanging in suspense as his gloomy eyes search me for a scrap of understanding. “You know, I think about how much easier it would be to just be angry with him,” he admits, his voice steady.
Tears prod the pockets of my eyes. They’re a breath away from spilling down my cheeks.
“But I was backed into a corner, only for those circumstances to backfire on you. On me,” he adds.
“After everything I learned to control, there’s this anger that just sits inside of me sometimes.
Guilt out of nowhere.” He offers a mild jerk of his shoulder, almost like a truce. “Can’t win them all, I suppose.”
I battle a large gulp, gradually shaking my head. “I never blamed you. I don’t blame you,” I whisper.
“I know you don’t,” he assures, his eyes skating around my face until they rest on mine.
“You always fixed everything for me, Callie. You could always bring me peace. But this?” I suck in a short breath, dreaded expectancy dancing along my lips.
“It doesn’t matter what side I’m on. This anger consumes me wherever I go. ”
A tear springs free, but not for the reason I prepared for.
I anticipated sharing heartbreak over Daddy, but my anguish stems from somewhere else. There’s this gaping hole that resides in my soul. The only way to plug it is to find that magic again.
Brant and I could heal each other’s wounds with one look. In hindsight, knowing the sacrifice I made, maybe I would’ve fought a little less to break free from Willowhart.
“I had every intention of swinging by after the gym,” I abruptly confess. “It wasn’t a whim.”
The crook of his mouth flinches. “Why’s that?”
“I don’t know,” I breathe, wagging my head.
“You’ve opened a door, and I can’t walk back out.
” My head drops as my hands plant on my forehead.
The fear of staring into his eyes is too devastating.
“I’m not saying for this to be anything romantic.
I’m engaged. I’m not trying to have an affair, I swear.
I just …” I blow out another breath, lifting my gaze to his piercing eyes.
“I just want more time with you. As long as you do too.”
His stare lowers to my mouth before elevating again.
He inhales, pivoting his head to the side as tension settles into his expression.
“Callie, I think I need to make something clear to you.” My heart idles when he returns his eyes to me.
“Of all the versions I could ever have of you, this is the last one I’d ever want,” he declares.
“I don’t want your body knowing someone else gets all of it.
That’s why losing something you never had hurts far less than losing something you did,” he continues. “You know how great the loss is.”
Relief crashes into me like a tsunami, but the steel bars around my heart slide closer together.
It’s a catch-22.
I manage a small nod, my voice frayed. “Okay.”
“But,” he adds, “I always want more time with you.” He flicks a gentle smirk. “You never have to ask for that. Ever.”