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“I was at your parents’ funerals, Callahan.” Maybe it’s cruel to bring it up, but it’s been years, and she clearly needs somebody to set this record straight. “You stood up when anybody else would have been on their knees.”
“I don’t remember much about that day,” she says. The words come out like a confession.
“I do. I remember Finn crying, and you supporting him. I remember you talking to all those damned people who wanted to tell you how much they were going to miss your parents.” The memory makes me seethe. “I lost count of how many times I heard you say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and ‘I’m glad you came.’ You were only fifteen fucking years old.”
Her lips tremble, those blue eyes filling with tears.
“What are you getting at, West?” she asks.
“I’m trying to tell you I saw you that day. And a lot of days after. And when everybody else I know would have curled up into a ball and started screaming for a padded room, you kept going. You want to talk about doing something hard? I’ve never known anybody else strong enough to do that.”
A tear slips down her cheek. I rest my hand on the wall over her head. We’re standing too close but I can’t drag myself away, the urge to close her in, to keep her safe overpowering my better judgment.
“I’m not that strong,” she whispers. “I’ve never been strong.”
“Callahan.” I wait until she meets my eyes again. Another tear drops, touching the corner of her lips, and that’s it for me. “Callahan, if you were weak, I wouldn’t want this.”
Those lips part and my mouth is on hers before my next breath.
She tastes like sunshine. How is that possible? Sunshine, and warmth, and salt from the sea. My hands are shaking with the need to hold her, but I keep my hands on the wall because if I touch her now, I might not stop.
The kiss is brief; sweeter than it had any right to be; finished long before it occurs to me that I shouldn’t have done that.
Callahan and I stare at each other through the dark.
“Hey, West! You out here?” Finn’s voice cuts through the thick silence, yanking me back to reality. I put a couple of vital inches between Callahan and me right as Finn appears in the doorway. “There you are. Have you seen Callie? I can’t find her anywhere.”
Callahan steps into view.
“Oh, good,” says Finn, oblivious to the tension rollicking between his little sister and me. “We’re heading for the karaoke bar next door. You guys coming?”
Thirty minutes later, I’m so tense I can barely breathe. Callahan keeps sneaking these looks at me, her expression bouncing back and forth between horror and speculation. The obvious conflict behind her eyes is killing me. I’ll be tearing my hair out in another minute. Or punching a wall.
Or dragging her off to the bathroom for a quickie.
Knock it off, asshole.
Another one of the guests from the wedding has made herself at home next to Callahan, chattering her ear off about Hale House and neighborhood gossip. Callie makes a heartfelt attempt to ignore me altogether, which pisses me off, so I shift in my chair until my leg presses up against hers. The sound of her quickening breath is gratifying.
I catch sight of Finn up at the bar with the grooms and their bride, all of them laughing and clearly having a great time. Maybe someday I’ll get to do this for him, to make sure he gets one last chance to live it up before his wedding.
The heat of Callie’s thigh along mine reminds me that I’m being a damned hypocrite. I promised Finn a long time ago that I’d look out for Callie, that I’d never lay a hand on her. Even earlier tonight, I promised him I’d look out for her, protect her.
I’ve spent most of the last hour thinking of all the ways I’d like to break that promise. If a man had treated me that way over one of my sisters, I’d kill him.
The knowledge cuts me deep, but not enough to make me pull away from her right now.
The noise of the bar grows as an announcer proclaims the start of a karaoke competition. Christ. As if the night needed to get any worse. I suck it up and turn with the rest of the crowd to face the small stage on the other side of the room. At least it keeps me from having to talk to other people for a while.
It’s early enough in the night so that most of the singers are still sober, or sober-ish. There are one or two enthusiasts clearly out for blood tonight, given the cash prize offered. After a couple of songs, I’m surprised to notice my bad mood starting to fade, though the tension’s going nowhere until I can get Callahan alone to talk about that damned kiss.
A lanky, attractive guy I’d spotted at the bar earlier approaches our table, his eyes on Callahan. Like I wasn’t tense enough already.
“Hey,” he says, clearly nervous. He doesn’t so much as glance my way. “I’m Raleigh.”
“I’m Callahan,” she says. She smiles at him, irritating me further.
“I was wondering if you’d mind using my phone to film me,” he says, gesturing toward the microphone on stage. “I’m up next. My friend back home is never going to believe I sang karaoke. I need proof. Would you mind?’
