“See you inside,” Callie murmurs, and then leans down to kiss me on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Kaleb.”
“Merry Christmas, Callie,” I whisper back, unable to stop the smile that spreads across my lips.
Chapter 26
Callie
“Happy New Year,” I mumbled as I yawn, stretching my arms overhead, as Kaleb and I leave from volunteering at the hospital.
“Happy New Year, Callie,” Kaleb echoes, while fishing the keys out of his pocket. “I know this might not have been—”
“No, this was a good idea,” I assure him with a sleepy smile. “We’ve already established that parties and me don’t exactly go hand in hand. Here I got to be useful… and hey, no one died.”
Kaleb sighs and wraps an arm around my shoulders, and I burrow into his warmth. Linked together against the cold, we walk toward Donovan’s truck, which is parked in the visitors parking lot under a bright streetlamp.
“Felix is still around. Don’t give up hope,” he murmurs, squeezing my shoulder.
“I know, I just… what does it say about me that I’m hoping someone suddenly dies?” I reply, guilt weighing down my already weary body. “We’ve been here every day of winter break, helping where we can, which has been great… except the end of every shift I’m disappointed, and then I feel sick for being disappointed.”
Kaleb opens the passenger side door of the truck and lifts me up into the seat. He does it so effortlessly that I feel almost weightless. With his hand resting on my knee, he offers, “It’s okay to feel disappointed. I imagine those waiting for lifesaving organs can appreciate the sentiment.”
“Except they’re not trying to body snatch an entire person,” I respond sadly.
“I could check to make sure they’re an organ donor first?” he suggests with a crooked smirk.
“Har har,” I mutter, giving him a deadpan stare. “Now get in. It’s cold out there, and it looks like it’s going to start raining soon.”
He squeezes my knee and closes the door, and I listlessly lean against the window, watching the streetlights highlight the mist floating in the air.
When he gets inside, he starts the engine and puts the heater on full blast. He opens his mouth to say something, and I shake my arm at him, making the gold bracelet slide on my wrist.
“Yeah, I know. Don’t lose hope,” I murmur, gently bouncing my head against the window. “Sorry. I’m tired, and it’s making me crabby. It was also so busy that I didn’t take a break to eat. Just chugged coffee and stole candies from the reception desk.”
“Then how about we get some food before calling it a night. The diner on Main should still be open,” Kaleb suggests while he goes through his safety ritual before driving.
He checks the lights, mirrors, wipers, his seat, etcetera. They’re all things every driver’s handbook suggests, but he’s the first person I’ve seen actually do them. He also always sits straight up and keeps his hands at seven and five. He mentioned that he’s a nervous driver, and since I only have my learner’s permit, I don’t have any room to judge.
As he’s backing out of the parking spot, he adds casually, “We could go to Nolan’s instead. The Campbells’ New Year’s party will probably still be going for hours, and it’s always well catered.”
“What did I say about me and parties? The Campbells’ gardener is still recovering from the last one I went to,” I grumble, adjusting the air vents so they’re not blowing directly into my face.
Kaleb’s hands flex around the steering wheel, and he’s silent in a way that means he’s debating saying something I don’t want to hear.
“Out with it,” I grumble, half anticipating what he’s about to say.
“It’s worse avoiding him,” he states plainly, flipping on the wipers because the mist has now upgraded to drizzle. “And you know you’ll regret losing this time with him.”
“It hurts too much,” I confess, my heart aching in my chest. “We had everything we needed. Just had to wait it out. Hell, we wouldn’t even let FelixseeAndrew because we were worried he’d get attached and back out. And I ruined it.”
“You saved someone’s life,” he corrects for what is likely the hundredth time. My guilt has really good earplugs on.
Needing to do something with my hands, I adjust the fan setting to low, and start fiddling with the radio—jumping stations too fast for me to really decide whether I like what’s playing.
“Columba mea,”he says the pet name with a tone that implies he expects better from me.
“It’s not just Felix, okay? During Yule, I gave you all hope, and not the long shot kind. The ‘this is really going to happen’ kind, and I just can’t look all the guys in the eye and tell them again that we still don’t have a body,” I admit, getting frustrated and turning off the radio. Settling back into my seat, I whisper, “Even if he doesn’t blame me,Iblame me, and I don’t want to drag him into my guilt vortex.”
“Guilt vortex?” he echoes, with a somewhat amused smirk.
