She looks in my eyes, unblinking. Hers are the prettiest shade of brown, almost like a hazel. “Thanks for putting up with me, Gavin. I know you didn’t sign up for this. My sister’s supposed to be here right now and instead you’re stuck babysitting me and it’s not fair to you and I’m really grateful.”
“That was…a lot.” Rubbing my beard, I lean a shoulder against the plastered wall. I’m not sure what it is about this conversation, but I don’t want it to end. Maybe it’s just the lowering of walls, the vulnerability. I like Callie a lot when she’s like this. “Turns out, you’re not too bad once you stop being angry at me.”
“Turns out your grandma is way cooler than you,” she says.
“I happen to agree. She’s probably my favorite person in the world.”
Callie sucks in a heavy breath and blows it out slowly. “Cool. Well, I’ll leave you right here. Good night, Gavin. See you in the morning.”
“Good night, Callie.”
She steps around the wall for the next staircase that narrows and leads directly to her bedroom. There is nothing up thereexcept her room, another smaller room we won’t be using, and a bathroom with a shower that could probably use some work. I listen to her footsteps until they reach the top of the stairs before I return to the ground floor to make sure all the doors are locked and turn out the lights.
There’s just something about Callie that is slowly drawing me in, and I can’t put my finger on what it is. Her personality is blunt and honest and kind, which can be jarring when I’m used to the way we tend to dance around subjects more subtly around here. But it’s not off-putting. In fact, I rather like it.
I rather likeher.
The haze is gonethe next morning. Something happened between the dinner with my family and the card game and the conversation in the stairwell, because there’s an ease between us that didn’t previously exist. We make breakfast together and layer up so I can take her out to meet my horses.
When I pull the barn door open and she steps inside, her soft, audible gasp hits me in the chest. There is no better recommendation to a person than my horses’ approval. Second, though, is unfettered admiration for the animals, and Callie clearly has that.
“You are a beautiful creature,” she says soothingly, rubbing her palm down Elephant’s neck. “What is your name?”
“Elephant. Her sister’s name is Piggie.”
Callie freezes, shooting me a look over her shoulder like she’s trying to decide if I’m joking or not. “Really?”
“They’re characters in a children’s book series.” I wait a beat, but she still doesn’t seem to know what I’m referring to. “Mo Willems?”
“Is that another horse?”
Is she serious? “That’s the author, Callie. Are there no children in your life?”
“My life is school.” She turns her attention back to Elephant. “Oliver is the only child in my life, and he doesn’t read yet. He’s probably still in the chewing-on-board-books stage, anyway. That didn’t stop me from sending him loads of books when he was born.”
“Right.” I lean against the stall and watch Elephant fall in love with Callie.
“Now, if you named her Bluey, I’d totally know what you’re talking about,” she says.
“Aye, that’s a popular one.”
“Or Cat in the Hat.”
“Extremely famous.”
“Or Pigeon. Have you read that one? He tries to drive a bus or get a cookie.”
I stare at her. Is this a joke?
Callie glances over. “No?”
“Same author, Callie.”
She points at my horse. “As this one?”
I laugh. I can’t help it. “Aye.”
“Huh. He’s funny. I sent some of those to Oliver, too.” She moves down a stall to rub Piggie’s neck, somehow knowing precisely where my horse would love to be scratched. “Have you read thoseLeo and Johnniebooks? I sent one of those too, then Rhys told me it’s a show over here. Super cute.”
