by Daya Daniels
He tilts his head to the side. “What happened to him?”
I didn’t expect that question. I expected: How old are you? Do you have kids? Are you married? What’s your last name? Not this. And if he’s asking the question like this, he already knows I’m married.
I’m going to be sick.
“I want to go, Austen,” I say, shifting beneath him.
“Callie, just talk to me.”
We grapple with each other for a moment. He lets go and I nearly fall off the bed. I shoot unsteadily to my feet and rush around the room with the pace of someone rushing for the bus, putting my clothes back on and snatching up my stuff, feeling more violated than when he’d fucked me in my ass earlier.
“What? Are you fucking stalking me, Austen?” I narrow my eyes as he stands and follows me around the room.
“Callie, please, no. Come on. I don’t do that. I thought maybe we could just talk. And I could talk to you.”
My eyes water and burn. I feel nothing but frustration, embarrassment. I launch into a tirade. “Do you know what this could do to me, to my family, to my husband if someone found out? This would kill him! It would kill me. I’d kill myself! This isn’t the movies, Austen! This is my life!”
“Callie, please—” he starts to say, but I don’t let him finish.
“Do you know what could happen if someone found you skulking around my fucking house? You’re lucky he didn’t shoot you!” My voice lifts eight thousand octaves and my pulse thrums in my temples. I’m ready to carve this man’s eyeballs out of his head with a spoon.
His brows arch. “Oh, come on, Callie, it wasn’t like that,” he says dramatically with innocent eyes. “I want to understand what you’re going through.”
“Oh, yeah.” I shove my feet into my flats. “You know what it’s like to be married then? You’re a prostitute, Austen, with your dick in the dirt. You fuck women for money. You have no idea about my life. No clue!”
He puts his hands together in prayer. His magnificent abs catch my attention and all I want to do is deliver a roundhouse kick to them. “Callie, please, I like you. I really do...”
I rush toward the door and spin around, marching back toward him. I stop and stand straight. “I didn’t ask you to LIKE me. I-pay-you-to-fuck-me.”
Stomping toward the door, I twist the handle and glance over my shoulder before I step outside of the room.
His expression is angry and unless I’m mistaken I think I’ve hurt him, but right now I really don’t give a shit.
“Well...if that’s the case, Callie, you owe me fifteen hundred dollars for the ass-fucking and eighteen dollars and eleven cents for the pizza and soda,” he says in a calm voice, giving me a cruel smile.
Furiously, I reach into my wallet for more cash. I toss it all on the floor as he looks at me. Then I slam the door.
CHAPTER FIVE
MONDAYS ARE DEATH.
I couldn’t sleep last night. When I arrived home, I showered quickly and headed for the kitchen to make myself some tea. After that I took everything to the back porch and was surprised to find Trav sitting out there looking toward the ocean past the grassy dunes.
We talked for a little while and he made me laugh a time or two. He apologized for his outburst earlier in the morning. I didn’t know how to respond to his words, except to tell him I understood, which I didn’t. Or at least, I’d tried my best to over these years. Every word Trav says to me during those outbursts feels like they brand me. They burn. They fuck up my thought pattern and cause me to feel worse about myself than I already do.
Each time he calls me selfish, I want to scream.
Who’s more selfish than him? Especially nowadays...
I’d spent nearly our entire marriage caring for our children alone while he traveled around the world for work. I’d even given birth to Noah alone because Trav couldn’t make it back here since he was off on a mission that was God knows where in the world.
I’d lived with a husband more than half of my life who was dedicated more to this country than he was to me.
And after the accident, I’d put my career on hold to take care of him, alone.
Yet, I’m selfish.
And even now Trav won’t do anything he knows he should do. He sits upstairs in that room all day watching television. He doesn’t try to talk to me. He hardly wants to go outside past the porch. He’s more than just disconnected from his friends and the men on his SEAL team. He’s cut everyone off.
Trav might be injured, but life doesn’t stop. Our lives didn’t have to stop.
Now, all he cares about is himself and he’s never once thought about what any of this has done to me. He doesn’t even ask. I’ve always been on my own in this marriage.
The sound of a tiny voice jerks me out of my daydream and it takes me a minute to realize where I am. I’m still sitting at my desk, with my elbows propped up on it and my face leaning into my right hand. The book I’ve been reading is still open. I couldn’t tell you what any of the words on the page are about.
“Mrs. Stone,” Haley says, leaning into my classroom door.
I shoot to my feet and close the book, forcing a smile. “Hi, Haley, come in.”
Her big eyes blink a few times. “I just wanted to tell you I’ll have a special surprise for you tomorrow. I have to go now. My mom is here waiting outside.”
“Okay, honey,” I say, walking across the classroom, but I stop when my gaze fixes out the window.
I spot Brandon...again. He’s sitting in that exact same position he was in last week on the stone bench next to the pickup area for the students after school. Tilting my head to the side, I keep my eyes on him. He looks even more sad today, kicking his feet on the ground at nothing.
Clutching my thin sweater tighter, I head out of my classroom and down the hallway. When I make it through the double doors, I walk across the stone area until I nearly reach where he’s sitting.
“Brandon!” I call out.
He twists around, keeping his eyes on the flats I’m wearing. “Oh, hi, Mrs. Stone.”
I place a hand on his shoulder and settle on the bench next to him. He keeps his head down. I resist the urge to thread my fingers through his thick chestnut locks. He checks his watch one more time.
“Let me guess,” I start to say. “You’re waiting for your dad.”
Who is this piece of shit who always has this kid waiting?
Brandon finally looks up at me with glassy eyes. They’re a remarkable blue, a lot like mine. And when he looks at you, it’s as if he sees right through you. I could never quite put my finger on why those eyes of his seem so familiar. His gaze reminds me of...
“Brandon,” a deep voice says, jerking my attention upward.
I shoot up to stand and nearly fall over the back of the bench at the sight of Austen standing right in front of us.
I fold my arms across my chest, stunned, frightened, confused.
“Dad!” Brandon jumps up from the bench and flies into Austen’s arms, where he’s crouched down, like a rocket, nearly knocking him backward.
Dad?
My eyes rake over Austen’s attire—a simple white T-shirt, blue jeans, and boots. He hasn’t shaved. He looks casual but still sexy as hell.
He pulls Brandon into a fierce hug and stands still, holding him in his embrace. He kisses Brandon’s face all over as they both laugh. I stand there, unsure of what to do. I want to run but how ridiculous would that look—me darting off in the opposite direction like my panties are on fire.
The two mumble a few words to each other I can’t hear. Austen’s face is nuzzled into Brandon’s hair, but his pale brown eyes flicker up to meet mine as Brandon continues to speak to him.
And that gaze makes me more uncomfortable than I already feel.
“I knew you’d come.” Brandon’s voice cracks. “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too, buddy,” Austen says, still keeping his eyes on me.
I clear my throat of nothing.
“Okay, Brandon. Well, it looks like your dad is here,” I rattle out, preparing to dart back to my classroom before this gets any weirder.
Brandon reaches a hand out for me and the smile on his face is just adorable. He looks like he’s just received a pound of jelly beans from the Easter Bunny. “Mrs. Stone, I want you to meet my dad. His name is Austen.” He gestures with his fingers in a come closer sort of way.
Austen shifts to his right and extends his hand.
I eye him over like the enemy he is.
“Hi, Callie,” Austen says in his deep voice, his large hand still extended. “It’s good to see you again.”
Reluctantly, I take it. He wraps his large palm around mine, massaging the top of it with his thumb. I exhale loudly and pull my hand away as if it’s in the grip of Lucifer himself.
“You know each other?” Brandon laughs.
“We met a few days ago,” Austen lies.
“Mrs. Stone is my favorite teacher!” Brandon gushes, causing me to blush. “She’s really smart and she knows a lot about math stuff. She makes it fun!”
“Yeah, you told me,” he says, earning wide eyes from me.
“How could I be your favorite?” I ask playfully. “I’ve only been here for six months, Brandon.”
“I don’t care, Mrs. Stone, you’re my very favorite,” Brandon confirms.
“Okay,” I whisper with the shake of my head as I keep my eyes on the ground.
“I told you all about her in my letters,” Brandon tells Austen, as Austen eases him down to the ground to let him stand on his own. “Did you read them?”
Letters?
“I did.” Austen’s brows lift and he gives me a blinding smile. “I read them all.”
“Will I get to see your new place here?”
Here? He lives HERE!
“No, Brandon, not tonight, but maybe on the weekend,” Austen tells him.
“Then where are we going now?”
Austen runs a hand over his jaw while I rock from side to side where I stand, unsure of what to do with all the nervous energy flooding my insides.
“Well, it’s still a school night, so we can’t stay out late, but I figured we could go downtown and get a bite to eat and maybe hit the arcade.”
Brandon’s face lights up. “That sounds perfect, Dad! Perfect.”
“Okay, then. Well, you both have a good evening. Brandon, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay, good night, Mrs. Stone!” Brandon skips ahead of Austen, doing air karate chops and kicks.
I can’t help but giggle at how excited he is that this asshole has finally picked him up as he clearly had promised.
Austen lives here. Austen has a son. Austen read about me in letters. I’m so confused.
I set off walking and make it about two feet away before I hear Austen say, “Good night, Callie.”
I don’t look back.
Austen
“YOU’VE BEEN AVOIDING ME,” a voice says, interrupting my thoughts.
I twist around on the ladder I’m perched on to find Greg standing to the side of it. Smiling, I descend the ladder, tuck it into my tool belt, and give Greg a big, manly hug. He slaps my shoulder a few times hard then looks me over proudly as we pull away.
I give my big brother a good look. He seems like he’s gotten taller since I last saw him, which was a long time ago, and his brown hair is dusted with gray here and there.
“No, not avoiding you. I just didn’t want to disturb you the other morning when Ivy said you were asleep and I’ve been busy since then.”
His brown eyes scan me over as he has a whole bunch of questions for me I’m not in the mood to answer right now. It’s just after twelve at night and after spending the evening with Brandon and thinking about my fuckup with Callie, I couldn’t sleep.
And my phone’s been going off like crazy with requests for appointments, which I’ve ignored.
This apartment is a nice size, two bedrooms and a bathroom with French doors that open right up to the beach. But the place needs some TLC, so feeling restless I thought I’d get to work.
Greg saunters around the lowly lit place. He’s dressed in a housecoat and slippers and his hair is all over the place. Once he’s checked out the bedroom, the bathroom, and the kitchen, he walks back over to where I stand, as I search through a bunch of paint swatches.
I can feel his gaze on me before he speaks. I keep my back to him.
“So, you saw Brandon tonight?”
“Yeah, yeah.” I bob my head a few times and walk across the room to get the measuring tape.
“That’s good. That’s really good. So, what have you been doing for work?” he asks curiously.
Does he really want to know?
“I, uh, I’ve been working on old man Morris’ place out on Sullivan’s Island during the week.”
“And that pays well?”
“Yeah, yeah, he pays me well.”
When I lift my eyes to look at Greg, I can feel the lecture he’s about to give me on the tip of his tongue, but he glances at his watch and I know he realizes it’s just too late at night for arguing.
“But you’re not going to be working for Morris the entire time you’re here, are you?”
“No, no. I have some plans. I just need a little time to get them together.”
Greg’s eyes narrow. He steps closer.
I smile. “Legit stuff, Greg.”
His mouth falls open as he nods. “Okay, I see.” He runs a hand over his jaw and my eyes fix on all his features. A shiver runs through me when I accept how much he looks like our dad.
The beeping of my phone continues.
“What is that?” Greg asks, his brows pressed together.
“My phone.” I reach over on the table, pluck it up, and set it to silent. Taking a deep breath, I flick through a bunch of blue swatches.
Greg watches me. “Those are nice. I like this one.” He steps toward me and pulls one out of the bunch. “Beatnik Blue.” He smiles. “For the second bedroom?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m going to make it Brandon’s room, so he has somewhere to sleep when he’s here. A room of his own.”
“That’s good.” Greg gives me a silly grin. “You know being a father is important.”
“Yeah.”
“And I know you haven’t had the perfect example, Austen.”
“What do you mean?” I give him a daft grin, my face scrunched with the expression. “I had no example, remember? You had the father, not me.” I exhale and shake my head a few times.
“Yes, Austen. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. You know Dad would—”
“Don’t,” I growl, cutting him off.
Greg exhales. “Okay. I just want to say one thing about Brandon, but we don’t really know him like how we should, as family, because you’ve never been around. And it’s just that the kid has been pining away for you—”
“Yeah, I know, okay? Please just save this for another time.” I reach down and pick up the toolbox.
“Austen, we would like to get to know him,” Greg adds.
Yeah, me too.
I take a deep breath. “It’s late. I have to work in the morning. I won’t be staying here for too long. I promised Ivy I’d stay out of your way and I’d pay rent while I’m here.” I look around at a few things that need to be done. “I’ll fix up what needs to be done while I’m here just as a ‘thank you’ to you both for letting me stay. Because, as you know, I really didn’t have any place else to go. So, thank you. But, please, Greg, no lectures, not tonight.”
“Okay, Austen.” He pulls me into a hug as I stand in front of him, tense and annoyed. “Okay. I know you know what you must do.”
Oh, but I don’t know what I’m doing.
“Yeah, I know what I got to do.” I meet his sad eyes, eyes that are sad for me. “And I’m going to get my shit together. I can promise you that.”
“Do you need any money?”
“No,” I say in a clipped tone, not meaning
to. I relax with an exhale. “No, I don’t need any money. I’m good for money.”
The last thing I need after moving into my long lost brother and his wife’s cottage is asking them for money. I knew they were already going out on a limb by letting me stay here. And Ivy already hates me. Often, I think my big brother, Greg, the lawyer, does too.
Greg lifts a dark brow. “Okay, well, good then.” He claps nervously and looks around. His eyes land on the stack of Home & Garden magazines I’ve been flipping through, looking at the landscaping ideas. “You’re still into this, huh?”
“Um, yeah.”
“You have a lot of talent, Austen. You should really use it while you’re here.”
“I plan to.”
He runs a hand through his hair, making it messy. “Have you met any of the neighbors?”
“Um, not really. I did meet Brandon’s teacher, Callie.”
Greg’s face lights up. “Oh, yeah, Callie. Ivy’s best friend.”
“Yeah, Ivy told me.”
His expression becomes sad. “She’s a nice one, but Ivy worries about her, especially now.”
My eyes narrow. “Why’d you say that?”
He exhales loudly. “I don’t know. We had dinner with her the other night. Callie tried to get her husband to come along, but he never does. Ivy was just surprised Callie agreed to join us.” He stares at his hands and I can tell by the way my brother talks about this woman that he and Ivy love her. “Callie just seems like there’s a lot going on with her. Her husband is um...Travis is disabled now. He’s been in that wheelchair for a long time. He’s a far different man from the way I remember him.” Greg stares at the floor and bobs his head. “He was a tough guy.”
I nod a few times.
“I think it’s been difficult for Callie. At least Ivy thinks so.” His mouth presses into a hard line. “When I was younger growing up around here, all the guys wanted Callie Olberson.” He smirks. “All of them. But Callie was so in love with Travis from as far back as high school. And of course, all the girls wanted him. He was a big guy, handsome, charismatic. We’d all swim right on that beach out there.” He points toward the beach. “They were in love. No one was breaking Callie and Travis Stone up.” A big laugh escapes him. “No one. And then right after high school Travis joined the Navy and a few years after that he became a SEAL.”