Chapter Seventeen Callum
Chapter Seventeen
Callum
I knew she wasn't okay.
But, God, she was trying so hard to be, and if it didn't break my heart to see her struggle. I want to help, I want to be there for her, I want to hold her and shield her from the problems she's facing, and take them all myself.
This beautiful, wonderful woman has endured all these terrible things, and she still keeps smiling and being kind. The injustice of it is so unfair, and I feel helpless.
All I can do is be here for her, help however she needs, and take care of the heavy lifting and the small tasks so she can focus on healing her body and her heart. As I said before, I'll be whoever she needs me to be, a friend above all.
She seems so reluctant to rely on anyone. Sophie thinks that asking for help is somehow seen as admitting weakness or surrendering, and I understand that I can't force it out of her.
Whenever I offer my support, there's a momentary flicker in her eyes that could be gratitude or maybe relief.
Sometimes she even gives a faint smile, as if surprised by the kindness and unsure how to respond.
It's small, barely there, but it tells me that she's starting to accept that she doesn't have to face everything on her own. That I'm here for her.
To be honest, these last couple of weeks have been some of the best in my life because of her. I've always had good times at book club or hanging out with Jack and Oliver, and I did feel content before I met Sophie.
But now, with her in my life...
It's just better. All around, everything is better with her in it.
I wasn't lying when I said I've never known anyone like her before.
She's kind. Not the kind of kindness you put on for show, but the real kind that makes people feel seen. She always speaks politely to waitresses or customer service workers, calling them by name and asking how their day is going. She tips well and thanks them like she really means it.
"I waitressed at Denny's. Number one rule—you do not mess with people that handle your food," she had informed me very seriously, as if she were speaking gospel.
She genuinely listens when my mom speaks about how the phases of the moon can affect sleep and how Valerian has sedative properties.
She doesn't flinch at Atticus' bluntness or try to pull Jane out of her quiet.
She doesn't shrink away from Bailey's relentless joy or roll her eyes at April's pessimism.
She allows everyone to simply be themselves.
She'll chat casually with regular customers at the shop, remembering their names, their favorite authors, and whether they prefer cozy small-town romance or friends-to-lovers.
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"You know you're pretty good at this," I comment after she made a recommendation to a customer. Sophie hops up onto the register counter when they're gone, her shoulders lifting in a modest shrug. There’s that shy little smile on her face that causes my gut to twist itself into knots.
"You want a job?" I ask her, only half joking.
"Depends," she looks at me with a raised eyebrow. "What are the benefits?"
"Well... discount on books," I start, pretending to think, "and you get to hang out with me, my mom, and Plot all day."
"Hm... very tempting," She makes a considering face as if she's being swayed. "Health insurance?"
I wince, tilting my head back and forth in a so-so motion. "Not great."
She sighs disappointedly and shakes her head, "Shame, I'd quit my other job in a heartbeat if I didn't have this pesky cancer thing. Probably better for the store anyway, I could do some serious damage in here with that discount. You'd be out of stock in a week."
I laugh, watching her own smile widen enough that her eyes crinkle at the edges. I love that she smiles with her whole face, so sunny that you can practically feel the warmth radiating from her when she does.
At that moment, Plot jumps up on the counter.
We have graduated from letting Sophie pet him to letting her pick him up and cuddle him close.
He cuddles into her chest with a sigh, as if he's had a long, stressful day, and I don't even want to acknowledge the jealousy I have toward this cat right now.
"Though I would love to hang out all day with this handsome little man," she says, nuzzling him gently.
Plot, that damn cat, looks almost smug as he cuddles into Sophie's embrace.
Sophie smiles over at me, and I feel the world tilt on its axis. I'm smiling back before I even realize I'm doing it. She's sitting there looking like pure sunlight, cradling my grumpy asshole cat, like she belongs here—like she's always belonged here—and I think she does.
She truly belongs here.
◆◆◆
And God, she's funny.
I love that we can joke back and forth, easily falling into conversation like we've known each other forever.
I love that she's funny in a way that's never at anyone else's expense, usually just her own.
She never takes herself too seriously, and while she's adopted a bit of gallows humor as a coping mechanism, I like that she's still able to laugh.
I'm glad that I can make her laugh, even if it's usually because I accidentally say something that sounds like an innuendo.
To be fair, most of the women I talk to are the women in my book club, who I really see as the sisters I never had, or the older ladies who come into the store for cozy mysteries or Harlequins. The extent of our conversations is usually them telling me I remind them of their grandsons.
I'm used to conversations that center around tarot and tropes, not flirtation, so I suppose I am a bit out of practice.
I think the last real date I went on was over a year ago, set up by Bailey, who swore her coworker was perfect for me.
It had been fine, we had dinner at a nice Italian restaurant, and while the conversation flowed easily between us, and she was a genuinely nice girl, there were no real sparks.
We parted on the understanding that no romantic feelings were involved.
Then came Sophie.
This extraordinary woman breathes color into my life, fills voids I didn’t know existed. She is the missing piece that fits perfectly, quietly making my world whole.
I have already talked to Jack and Oliver about her during our regular catch-up call a couple of nights ago, something we try to do every couple of weeks when our schedules align.
At one point, we were in three different time zones, with Jack on deployment and Oliver in med school on the other side of the country. With Jack at Fort Bragg and Oliver in Houston, it’s easier nowadays to find times to talk.
As we usually did, we started our calls by asking if anything new was going on, and I told them about the brunette beauty who had walked through my door and changed everything.
◆◆◆
"... mom loves her, and Plot, the grey demon, loves her. Her name is Sophie..."
"Sophie, huh?" Jack asks, shit-eating grin clear as day in his voice.
"Plot actually likes her?" Oliver sounds skeptical.
"Yeah," I breathe, a smile on my face. "She's... something else."
"Can't wait to meet this girl," Jack laughs, voice filled with genuine warmth. "Gotta be special to catch your attention, Father Callum."
"She is," I murmur, ignoring the good-natured barb and instead picturing her sweet face smiling at me while we watched the sunset. Just the thought of it warms me from the inside out. "She's going through a lot right now. I'm just trying to be there for her."
I don't want to reveal information that isn't mine to share.
I don't want to gossip about her, even to my closest friends.
They know Paul. They weren't there when the incident with Lauren happened, but I had told them, and they held a grudge against him.
I know they would completely support Sophie and curse Paul out for her, but still, it's not my life to talk about.
Sophie's trust is sacred to me, as is all my friends', but her own trust was violated in a way that still makes me sick to think about. I will cherish her trust, honored to have it placed in me, and guard it with the utmost care.
"Jack, how are you and Samantha doing?" I ask, pivoting the attention away from me.
Silence. That puts me on edge immediately—Jack's never been quiet. He's always been the first to crack a joke, to give someone hell, to keep the mood from getting too heavy.
His silence now says more than any words could.
"Jack?" Oliver prods, his voice dipping in concern.
"We broke up,” Jack sighs deeply, and I can picture him scrubbing a hand down his face. "She was cheating on me. She said since pretty much the beginning."
"Damn," I mutter, wincing. "You okay, man?"
"Honestly? Yeah, I'm fine. It sucked, but it's whatever," Jack says, his voice sounding a little tense but not heartbroken.
More irritated than anything. That's just how Jack operates—he compartmentalizes his feelings very fast. He never liked talking about emotions unless he was drunk, and even then, it was a slow leak.
"I just feel bad, the guy Samantha was cheating with had a girlfriend. Apparently, she had been away on deployment, came home early, and caught them in bed together."
"What the hell is wrong with people?" Oliver says, sounding disgusted.
"She works with me, so I'll be seeing her around. Hope she's okay. I mean, obviously, she's not okay. Seeing that after getting home from deployment, it's gotta suck ass..."
"Just glad you're okay, Jack," I tell him genuinely, knowing he's hurting but not letting us hear it. "Let us know if you need anything."
"You know we're only a phone call away," Oliver says, but then he follows it with. "Unless I'm elbow deep in someone's chest cavity, then you might have to wait a bit."
When I first met Jane, she reminded me so much of Oliver—with his deadpan delivery and complete sincerity in his words. Oliver has always been quieter, a little more nerdy, than the three of us.
When he does speak, he doesn't say anything he doesn't mean.