The Calamity Falls Box Set

by Erika Kelly

  Their dad had wanted nothing to do with a cattle ranch, so he’d left for college at Stanford, married his college sweetheart, and started a Venture Capital career in Sonoma Valley. After his wife’s second pregnancy, he came home to raise his sons in the mountains. An extremely competitive man, he’d given his boys the freedom he believed would turn them into strong, successful men. He taught lessons through actions.

  “Hey, so what happened with Solheim?” Will dipped a forkful of green beans in the steak juice. “Did he give you another assignment?”

  After his conversation with Callie, Fin had headed over to the Town Manager. But he hadn’t even entered the building before he realized he wouldn’t let an opportunity to be with her pass him by.

  When would he get another chance? “I didn’t bother going in. He already told me he doesn’t have anything else for me.”

  “So what’re you going to do?” Brodie said. “She doesn’t have to use the meme to pull off a museum about people who got dumped.”

  “There’s nothing to do,” Will said. “She’s not inventing anything. She’s piggy-backing on something that’s already out there. And, if you ask me, she’s smart to do it.”

  What the hell? “It’ll cost me the cover.”

  “No, the meme did that,” Will said. “She’s using it to her advantage.”

  “I still don’t want it in my hometown,” Fin said.

  “And how’s it going to die down if she makes a museum out of it?” Brodie asked.

  Will dumped a pile of baked sweet potato slices onto his plate. “First of all, everyone in town already knows about it. And secondly, this is Calamity. Hanging a box of PopTarts on the wall here isn’t going to have any impact on the global popularity of the meme.” He grabbed a slice and shoved it in his mouth.

  Brodie gave Fin a pointed look. “Why don’t you make a public statement? Quit waiting for Traci to break her silence and tell your side of the story. Aaron can book you magazine interviews.”

  “That’s the last thing you should do.” Will drank some water and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Look, this thing stopped being about you a long time ago. You jump on social media and start waving your arms, and you’ll turn the spotlight right back on you.”

  What Will said made sense, but it killed him to think that everyone he knew would walk through that damn museum and see him as some kind of shitty boyfriend.

  But mostly what grated was having Callie behind it. Because he’d wanted to be the best damn boyfriend to her. And he’d failed. “Easy for you to say. It doesn’t affect you.”

  “It’s your life,” Will said. “Of course it affects me.”

  A fierce sense of affection burst in his chest. He loved his brothers.

  “Since it’s not something you can control,” Will said. “You should just ignore it and get on with your life. And you know the best response? Help Callie put this museum together. That’s how much it’s not about you.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Brodie said. “Get Solheim to find something else for you to do. You don’t have to put up with that.”

  Fin balled up his napkin. Fuck it. He’d just tell the truth, no matter how they might take it. “I want to work with her.”

  His brothers stilled, shooting looks to each other that telepathed, Mayday, mayday, mayday!

  Brodie sat back in his chair looking genuinely baffled. “You’re not thinking of getting back together with her, are you?”

  He did not want to have this conversation, but he wasn’t going to bullshit them. “I never broke up with her.” And he meant that in every way possible. He suspected his brothers knew that.

  “Aw, Christ,” Brodie said. “It’s been six years. And she’s got a new guy.”

  “They’re not together anymore,” he said.

  “Is she still going back to New York?” Will asked quietly.

  “Of course. Let’s just drop it, okay? I don’t want to talk about it.” He sank his fork tines into a couple of green beans, but he’d lost his appetite.

  “You know we’re just worried about you, right?” Will said. “Look, I was there. I saw how hard that breakup was on you. Those first few months…I’d never seen you like that. You were always the happiest, and then…she broke you.”

  Fin shot him a look. “I broke us. I did it.”

  His brothers went wide-eyed. He knew as much as they wanted to help him, relationships were completely outside their wheelhouse.

  Which is why their advice doesn’t matter.

  Will cleared his throat. “Yeah, okay, so there you go. You’ve carried the guilt for a long time.” His effort to get therapeutic with him would’ve been comical if Fin didn’t know where his brother was trying to lead him. “And hanging out with her now…it’s good. You’re making things right. That’s a good thing. But maybe it’s not about getting back together.” He looked to Brodie for help, but when he offered nothing, Will exhaled. “I mean, is Callie even thinking along those lines?”

  Jesus, they didn’t get it at all. His heart didn’t stop beating for her just because she might not be thinking along those lines.

  “You remember what Dad used to say?” Brodie perked up, like he’d come up with the perfect words to get through to him. “He told us our twenties were for screwing around, getting shit out of our systems. Remember?”

  Of course he remembered. He remembered every line his family had ever pulled to trivialize his feelings for his girl.

  “He didn’t want us to hit forty and go, This is it? This is all I’ve got to look forward to the rest of my life?” Brodie seemed satisfied, like he’d really nailed it.

  And, surprisingly, he had. Fin tossed his napkin on the table. “Good talk, man. That really drives it home.” It did. It took all his anxiety and turned it into resolve. “Because nothing would make me happier than being with Callie every day for the rest of my life.”

  His brothers looked like he’d just announced his decision to try out for the Russian ballet.

  “Okay, hang on,” Brodie said. “I think you’re getting confused. Callie’s a great girl. You like her. We all like her. But this is just about fixing the shit you broke. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that.”

  “I want it to be more than that.”

  “But does she?” Will asked. “And unless you plan on moving to New York, I’m not sure what kind of future you have with her.”

  “You can point out all the obstacles, but it won’t change anything. My feelings for her won’t change.”

  “Wait, wait.” Brodie was all revved up now. “You’ve just got to look at it in a different way. Think about it like this. You got all these feelings, right?” He pushed his plate away. “All you have to do is turn them off. Imagine a light switch or…or an ignition. You get these feelings, and you turn them off. It’s not gonna work out with Callie. Not now, not ever. So…” He made a sharp flicking motion with his hand. “Turn it off.

  “You guys are so clueless.” Fin pushed his chair back. “You actually think you can decide whether or not you fall in love with someone. Well, I’ve got news for you. It doesn’t work like that.” He got up. “You think you can choose the timing or whether or not someone’s your type, but I promise you this, the moment you meet her, it’s going to slam you so hard you’re not going to know what hit you.” He’d laugh his ass off if it ever happened to them. “You think you can walk away, that one girl is just like another, but you’re dead wrong. Because that girl—your girl?” He shifted his gaze from Will to Brodie. “You’re hardwired for her. I’m hardwired for Callie, and there’s not a goddamn thing I can do about it.”

  He strode out of the room, knowing exactly where he needed to be.

  Her parents came in from the garage, reeking of hops.

  “Look, you guys.” Callie pushed back from her laptop to show them the screen.

  “Hang on.” Her dad headed into the kitchen. “Let me wash up.”

  Her mom leaned in, gathering Callie’s hair into a
ponytail. “Oh. It’s published already?”

  Callie couldn’t believe it, either. The day after her dad had suggested it, she’d sent her piece about the Exhibition of Broken Hearts to media outlets in Wyoming, Idaho, and Montana. In it, she’d included a call to action, requesting one hundred-word story submissions, along with a donation that symbolized the broken relationship.

  Tonight, she’d gotten an email from the Idaho Statesman with a link, letting her know it had been published. She’d come up with the idea for the exhibition one week ago, and it already had traction.

  Her mom pressed her cheek against Callie’s, her long, wavy hair smelling like beer mixed with her floral shampoo. “I’m so proud of you.”

  Her dad came out of the kitchen, his hands wrapped up in a dish towel. “What’cha got, pumpkin?” But a knock had him bypassing her to answer the door.

  “Who’d come by this late?” her mom asked.

  Anticipation buzzed Callie’s nerves. Everyone knew her parents ran the diner and came home absolutely destroyed with exhaustion, so it seemed most likely that someone had come to see her. And there was only one someone who’d do that. Especially after the way they’d left things at the old Town Hall that morning.

  Low male voices reached from the foyer, and electricity spiked through her body. Fin. She’d recognize his deep, rumbly voice anywhere.

  If he came in, he’d see her supplies all over the kitchen table. The index cards, Plexiglass frames and label covers, rolls of fishing line, glue, and the staple gun. Guilt got a good, solid grip on her and squeezed. “Mom, do you think what I’m doing is unfair to Fin?”

  Her mom dropped into the adjacent chair and picked up a length of nylon, wrapping it around her index finger. “Did you know Bazoo’s is selling World’s Worst Boyfriend T-shirts and mugs?”

  Callie shook her head. She’d hardly left her building.

  “Adam’s Ale is, too. And Bliss has an ice cream called hashtagWorldsWorstBoyfriend. The ingredients are cacao nibs, sour gummy worms, and ‘heartbreak,’ so, no, I don’t think what you’re doing is unfair.” She dropped the fishing line and reached for Callie’s hand. “Everyone’s trying to make money off the fact that the World’s Worst Boyfriend lives here. You’re actually doing it to help people.”

  “I’m doing it to get a job.”

  “Okay, but underneath that, this exhibition is a way for you to heal along with everyone else. Isn’t that what you said?”

  “Yes, absolutely. And, Mom, all I did was mention it to a few people who stopped by to see what I was doing with the old building, and already donations have started coming in.” This is going to be big. She just knew it.

  “Wait here.” By her dad’s tone she could tell he was already on the move. “I’ll see if Callie wants to talk to you.”

  Warmth spread through her. She loved that her dad always looked out for her. Closing her laptop, she pushed back from the kitchen table. When her dad appeared in the doorway with a question in his eyes, she nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

  Callie hurried across the living room, and the sight of Fin Bowie standing in her foyer hit like opening the door to a surprise party. That disheveled hair and facial scruff, his big, muscular body and moody expression, made her heart flip over.

  His black leather jacket hung open, exposing a white V-neck T-shirt. Faded jeans encased powerful thighs, the frayed hem bunching over black leather boots.

  “Hey.” Did she have to sound so out of breath? Her heart pounded like she’d just been chased through the woods at night by a bear.

  And it didn’t help that his gaze took a slow roll up her body, from her red-tipped toes to her bare legs—her upper thighs covered in ruffled cotton sleep shorts—to the pink long-sleeved T-shirt covering her chest. When he finally reached her eyes, his nostrils flared, and his expression turned carnal. A zing of awareness shot through her.

  And then he smiled. And when Fin Bowie smiled it was like the finale of a fireworks display. “What’s up?” She hated the slight tremor in her voice. Worse, she hated the fuse he lit inside her.

  “Let’s take a ride.”

  The girl she’d once been would’ve raced right out the door, bare feet and all. Which is why the woman she’d become knew not to go anywhere with him. “It’s late, and I have to get up early. I have a lot to do in very little time.”

  “We’re going to be working together for the next six weeks, so we should probably clear some things up. Why don’t you put on some clothes and meet me in the truck?”

  See, the problem was that she wanted to spend time with him. It took all she had not to hurl herself down to the basement, grab a sweatshirt, jam her feet into sneakers, and fly out the door. Fortunately, she had one last ounce of restraint left in her. “We can just talk on the porch.” She gestured for him to turn back around and lead the way out the door.

  But he didn’t budge. “I want us alone. Just you and me.”

  Her parents murmured in the kitchen. Right. “Fine. Give me a second.” She made it sound like she was so put-out, but she found herself hustling to her room, yanking a pair of jeans out of her suitcase, pulling a fleece jacket she hadn’t worn since high school off the hanging rack, and shoving her feet into an old pair of white Vans.

  As she headed back up the basement stairs, heart fluttering in her throat, she called to her parents. “Be back soon.”

  “You’re twenty-three,” her dad called. “You don’t have to check in.”

  Her mom laughed quietly.

  Hearing them chuckle slowed her down. She’d just told herself not to be that reckless teenager, and here she was flying out the door to be with him. Breathless, heart racing, willing to drop anything. Forget everything.

  She tried to reclaim her composure, but her paralyzed hands couldn’t grasp it and, as she headed to the door, the bridge of time collapsed, plunging her into freefall.

  Images flew at her, immersing her in a tumult of sharp, vivid emotions.

  The thrill of Fin unhinging the basement door she’d locked after he’d told her he couldn’t go to their junior prom because of his brother’s skiing competition. So much anger—no, outrage—expressed in a furious fight that had ended in desperate, raw sex.

  The naughty pleasure of riding him in his truck, her fingers clutching the back of his seat, her hips slamming down and grinding. That wild imperative to get closer, deeper, to meld with him.

  The boundless joy as they’d leapt off the cliff together, hands joined, her smile stretching so wide it felt stupid. Plummeting into ice cold water. And the indescribable happiness when they’d popped up and reached for each other—her legs wrapped around his waist, his arms cinching her tightly. She’d never felt anything like it since.

  And the pure relief of slamming into the wall of Fin’s chest in the hallway after she’d found out Piglet, her little runt of a mutt, had been struck and killed by a minivan. The deep satisfaction, when she’d collapsed into his arms, of knowing her soul had a harbor, and it was Fin Bowie.

  He’d been there for her more times than not, but the times he’d let her down stuck in her joints like burrs, reminding her with sharp twinges every time she so much as rolled over in bed.

  Blocking out the good memories had been easy…until she’d come home. Here, they were everywhere. She breathed them in at night in her childhood bed, and she ate them for breakfast at the kitchen table.

  Fortunately, when she closed the front door behind her, the cool mountain air rushed over her skin and snapped her back to the moment. The hints of sage from the surrounding meadow and smoke from the town’s nightly bonfire woke up her senses.

  It was okay to remember. Important, actually, because she’d never resolved anything. She’d just thrown herself into work, into survival mode. Finals, projects, hurrying to the diner, the bar, racing to get errands done in stolen moments…all of it had kept her on the run.

  She never would’ve stopped, would she? If Julian hadn’t dumped her, forcing her to live
at home for the summer, she’d still be on the lam from a past that demanded reconciliation.

  She’d take this ride with Fin, confront the memories, and then she could finally let them go. Let him go.

  She’d finally be free.

  Country music floated out of Fin’s idling truck. From the driver’s seat, he watched her come down the stairs. She had to smile because Julian always held doors open for her, always had a hand at her lower back to guide her into a room or a waiting car. Even though it made her bristle, she’d allowed it because she’d figured it was his way of showing he cared. In reality, though, it just felt condescending. And, frankly, he’d been trained to do it. He didn’t do it because he thought she might topple over or wander off without his guidance.

  When Fin leaned over to push open her door, the interior light lent a golden glow to his skin. His scruff accentuated his sexy lips. She grabbed the handle and hoisted herself inside. Just his nearness sent a spray of goosebumps popping out across her arms.

  After buckling herself in, she drew her fleece tighter around her. Fin immediately shrugged off his jacket and held it open for her.

  “That’s okay.” She wasn’t cold, but she wasn’t about to explain her body’s reaction to him. “Maybe just turn on the heat.”

  “It’s July, wild thing. Not turning on the heat.” He shook his jacket. “Here.”

  She had enough issues to fight him about; putting on his jacket wasn’t one of them. But, damn, did being in this truck with him bring back dangerous memories. How many times had they pulled off the road in the middle of the night, both of them scrambling over the seat to topple into the back, tearing off clothes, reaching for warm, naked skin…

  She closed her eyes against the onslaught of sensation. Stop it.

  Just… stop.

  Once Fin hit the unlit highway, they drove in a silence fraught with tension. She toyed with the zipper on his jacket, waiting for him to start talking.

  But he didn’t say anything, and she wanted to get the conversation over with. “So, what’s up?”