15. Brant #2
I lay the rolled designs on the table, then run a hand over my short hair. My chin pokes down, reflexively checking my solid flannel for stains or holes that could’ve magically appeared in the last hour.
It’s pathetic.
Pointless, really.
I wander aimlessly around the dining room, wondering what the hell it is that I’m doing. What we’re doing. Can’t she just drop this asshole and run to me already. Be done with all this fancy shit that doesn’t make a lick of sense.
Sure, she looks sexy as hell, but she’s missing something.
Me.
That has to count for something, right? We’ve gotten a few great moments together recently, but fuck that.
Fuck that.
It’s not what I want.
“Ready?”
I rotate toward the sound of Callie’s voice. My eyes skim her gardening wardrobe, catching the white top peeking from beneath her denim overalls. Her long hair is now tied in a high ponytail. There’re these two stray pieces framing her eyes, allowing her green hues to pop angelically.
I fear they lure me in too close.
Way too close.
My eyes snap to the foyer, ensuring Jesse hasn’t silently witnessed my loss of breath. “Yeah,” I simply agree.
Callie turns to lead us through the living room. Her palm wraps around the ornate handle of the back door when she asks, “How much time do you have left?”
“Probably another ten or fifteen minutes,” I answer as we filter through the threshold.
We land on the flagstone steps of the patio, and the lush grass expands in all directions. The warmth of the sun caresses my trimmed beard, and the light frames her chestnut locks in this serene glow.
My eyes observe her as we journey onto the lawn. Her hands dip into the pockets of her overalls, and then she’s plucking out a pair of gardening gloves. “It’s like I’m gettin’ ready for surgery,” she jokes, slipping them on. “Minus the part where I wash my hands. That only happens after.”
I smile as we head to the far-right corner of the backyard. A long and rectangular patch of flowers emerges into view, vibrant blooms inside the perimeter of large stones.
The sight yanks at a dormant heartstring. Reviving the conversation me and Callie once had about colors. Flowers. Gardens.
She’s built herself a sanctuary.
A refuge.
She’s sheltered by this lavish lifestyle but still needs something more. And maybe, the grass isn’t always greener when we enter a new patch of land.
Even for Callie Rae Montgomery.
Even if she doesn’t see it yet, I know it.
“You’re quiet.”
Her voice cuts through my thoughts, and I dip my hands in my jeans pockets. “I was admiring the backyard.”
Callie smirks, wagging her head. “You lie,” she murmurs.
I grin when we finally reach our destination. Clusters of tulips, daffodils, and lilacs fight for my attention in a sea of green.
“Bright colors can get so lost under dark ones.” We stand side by side as Callie speaks.
“But if you look closely enough, you’ll find those streaks of light underneath.
I guess I started my garden as a reminder of that,” she adds.
“No matter how dark my days may get, there’s at least some color to appreciate. ”
My throat bobs as I study her side profile. Her chest inflates as her fingers tuck one of those stray hairs behind her ear. The earthy and floral aroma inserts this tranquility between us. In a way, it’s familiar.
“This is beautiful, Callie.”
She shrugs. “All I do is dig a hole and plant a seed. I can’t take credit for the actual flowers.”
A chuckle exits me when I pivot my head. “You’re unbearable,” I tease
Callie’s raspberry lips groove into a smirk when she crouches. Her denim-clad knees dig into the grass, and she retrieves a pair of garden clippers from her overalls pocket. She snips the stems of a couple red tulips before a pair of lilacs, only to stand up afterward.
When she faces me, she extends the four flowers between us. “For Julia.”
Sincerity sweeps over her eyes. The crook of her mouth twitches in a truce, and I smile. I peer down at her stuffed palm, eventually reaching for the flowers. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
When I pull back, I steal another glimpse of her garden as I ask, “What are you going to plant next?”
“Hydrangea, dahlias, lavender,” she says, walking along the border of stones.
“Sunflowers.” My stomach flips at her admission, and she pauses in front of the center of her garden.
Her palms are concealed in her pockets, her eyes directed at something hiding within the palette of flowers.
“The best time to plant them is in May, otherwise I’d plant them all year round. ”
“Would you?”
“I would,” she confesses before jerking her chin to something I can’t see. “Come take a look.”
Her voice reels my legs forward. Almost cautiously.
My boots stroll along the grass before I pause beside her. My attention follows the path of her eyes, and that’s when I see it.
Nestled between a plethora of green stems is a stone statue.
The pair of doves are smooth and gracefully carved. The subtle curve of their wings is captured peacefully within the light gray finish.
“You bring color into my world just like a garden does.” I turn my head to Callie when she speaks. “Only seemed right that I have this here.”
A gentle breath tumbles from my lips. My heart hammers against my chest to tap hers in sync with mine. And I’m desperate.
Fucking desperate.
“Callie, I want to keep seeing you,” I admit.
Her eyes remain averted across the silence.
“You know, it would have been nice to hear from you after Saturday,” I push.
“You have a phone too,” she retorts.
“I’m trying my best to be respectful.”
Callie pops a shoulder. “Then it is what it is, right?”
I narrow my eyes as I search her face. For a hint of emotion. Anything that tells me she doesn’t mean what she’s saying.
She doesn’t mean it.
“You should go before Jesse starts asking questions. I’ll walk you out,” she says.
Frustration rises in my chest. I lick my lips, inching closer to her side to deliver my next words. “You realize how fucking insane you sound right now?” I murmur. “One minute, you’re desiring extra time with me in the backyard. The next minute, you’re pushing me away. Which is it?”
She swivels to face me, her nostrils flaring as her jaw sets. “My hands are tied, Brant. I can’t just do whatever I feel like doin’ like I did Saturday night,” she asserts, gesturing to the flowers in my hand. “Maybe this is my way of apologizing to her. I think I owe her that much.”
Her pathetic excuse punctures my heart, and I lightly scoff.
“That’s great,” I counter mockingly. My hand quickly raises and wiggles the bundle I’m holding.
“I’ll be sure to give these to her. I haven’t seen her since I bumped into you, but I’ll fuck her too, how about that?
Is that a good enough apology in this twisted scenario you’ve concocted in your delusional mind? ”
She rolls her eyes, turning her head away from me. Her tongue pokes out to wet her lips, her palms greeting her lower back. “Do whatever you want. You’re pissed, so nothing I say is gonna cool you down right now.”
“So, this is all we get?” I fire back. “Quick conversations when I come over for business?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Well, when you figure it out, let me know,” I challenge. “Don’t bother walking me out.”
And with that, I’m traveling across the backyard until I exit through the fence door.