Chapter 24 Calder #2
“I wouldn’t say it was a choice. It was where I was accepted for my residency, so I went. I enjoyed where I worked and the people I worked with, so I stayed when I finished.” Her shoulders gave a little shrug. “Not a great reason, unfortunately.”
“But your sister has been living up here still? Since college?” The mention of Rachel instantly hung a cloud over her, one I wished I could just rip away.
Why was he asking about Rachel? I stopped eating and leveled Cassius with a hard glare, waiting for him to acknowledge my silent warning to lay off the topic.
“She moved around a bit, too, but eventually ended up back here.”
“Wait, Dad, how do you know where they went to college?” Colby butted in, her head cocked at a wild angle.
Cassius stilled and sat back, unsettled. Maybe because he wasn’t used to being the one questioned.
“We went to University of Wyoming together. Rachel graduated with me, and Lara two years after,” I said, hoping to put an end to the conversation.
Colby’s head whipped toward me, her eyes wide for what I was sure was a Colby-only reason.
“Do you think you’ll stick around once Calder finds your sister?”
Goddammit.
“Cassius,” I warned, my fork clattering to my plate.
Cassius wasn’t particularly known for his tact.
I wished I could say it came from avoiding most forms of society for the last thirty-odd years, but that would be a lie.
The man was a survivalist through and through.
A born prepper. Situations were stripped bare of emotion so they could be thoughtfully evaluated and choices made accordingly.
He had the decency to grimace. A surprising consolation, in my experience.
“My apologies, Lara.”
“You don’t have to answer—”
“No, it’s okay,” she interrupted, and based on the look she shot me, I got the message that Cassius was going to get his answer for no other reason than to aggravate me.
“I don’t know. I’m still waiting to hear if I even still have a job at my hospital in Arizona, but even if I do .
. .” She paused for a second, scooping another bite of food onto her fork.
“Even if I do, I’m not sure that’s enough to hold me there.
I’m not sure it ever was. I was just working too much to realize it. ”
Her regret-laden voice gutted me. The guilt she carried for her patient was only a symptom of the guilt she felt for Rachel.
For being absent. For not realizing where her sister’s insecurities had taken her.
For having her own way of dealing with the trauma of their unstable childhood and now believing it had compounded her sister’s misfortunes.
That wasn’t the truth. It was just a story told by the mind in its weakest moment. One sharp enough to bury into her subconscious.
I glanced at Cassius because I knew what that was like. How a thought could embed itself like a splinter under the skin, after a while, healed in so deep, the moments of pain seemed like less of a problem than tearing through the flesh to get it out.
“Avoidance is rarely an adequate method of dealing with a problem.” Creighton entered the conversation with his usual brand of brutally blasé remarks.
“Creighton—”
“Unless that problem is a tornado. Then you definitely want to run. Ask Callum.”
“Jesus, Creighton.” Colby’s balled-up napkin went flying and smacked him in the head.
Picking up the soiled napkin with two fingers, Creighton deposited it next to his plate. “Very mature.” He raked his hand through his long hair, somehow making the dark circles under his eyes look more severe.
“Says the man insulting our handicapped brother.”
“Callum would’ve appreciated the humor.” Creighton’s eyes darted rapidly through the group, daring anyone to disagree, which, unfortunately, none of us could.
Callum’s humor existed in only the very darkest corners of his mind, if it existed at all. Similar to Creighton. You’d think the traumas they’d gone through, while very different, would’ve given them more common ground than a morbid sense of levity.
“Well, Lara, I think you should stick around. I could teach you how to shoot. We could even use Creighton for target practice,” Colby said, her voice and her smile both sickly sweet as she rose and started grabbing plates. “Anyone want coffee? Except you, Creighton.”
“And here I thought you’d relish the chance to poison me,” he returned with a hint of a smirk.
Colby’s eyes narrowed. “You’re too toxic to be poisoned.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You would,” she huffed and went to pick up Lara’s plate, but Lara grabbed it first.
“Please, let me help you,” she insisted, then reached across the table for mine.
“I’ll take a decaf,” came Cassius’s request.
“I’m good, thanks.” After dialing in the intricacies of my pour-over ritual, I couldn’t stomach Cassius’s decades-old drip machine. Especially right now, when Colby’s words were still ringing in my head: “I think you should stick around.”
My hand reached for the side of my jaw, working over the muscle in long rubs. I wouldn’t survive Lara Crane sticking around.
“You know, Calder,” Cassius said, and I didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked to Lara’s retreating form.
Shit. Was he going to ask me about her? Did he know—had I given away—“The kitchen could use an upgrade in the coffee department. I was wondering if you could . . . show me the difference between filter and French press?”
I pushed back in my chair, staring at my father like he’d grown a second head.
Cassius had always been the authority. Always the answer.
Always the end. He knew how he wanted things done, and there was rarely a time when I could disagree with his way or his rules.
So to have him ask for my expertise on making coffee when he’d been perfectly satisfied with his drip machine from the beginning of time .
. . And the way he’d looked at Lara before he’d done it.
My nostrils flared with my sudden breath.
It was one thing for her to destabilize me. My mind. My emotions. My desires. It was another for that to ripple over into this. Into Colby. Into Cassius. My family.
Get a grip, Calder. He’s just asking about coffee, I reprimanded myself. “Yeah,” I clipped. “Sure.” And then I stood. “But I think I’m going to head out. Good night.”
I almost made it out of the room without hearing Creighton: “Looks like someone has his panties in a bunch. I guess I’ll have to forgive her for translating my Latin.”