She has such an American problem-solving way of looking atthings. This system isn’t broken, though. There’s no need to change it. I don’t need to fix anything. But having tea for the sake of friendship is appealing—not needing to pretend everything is fine, that we’re all not doing this dance for the sake of my mental health.
Yet, I can’t see Patty calling to invite me to tea without a reason—phony as we both know it may be.
I shake my head. “We aren’t so straightforward about things.”
“Which is why you’ve spent years pretending to fix pipes that aren’t broken.”
“Aye.” When she says it like that, it sounds silly. But I know it isn’t. It’s love. They’re all acting out of compassion, and I love them deeply for it.
Callie rests her head against the seat, mirroring my position, and looks at me. “Follow-up question?”
“Depends.”
“Why aren’t your parents in the rotation? Is it because they’re never around?”
I sit back in the seat and look through the windscreen at the garage wall. “You’ve used up your question, Callie. Time to head inside.”
“Hey, not fair.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “Want another one?”
“Yes.”
“Find a way to earn it, I guess.” I open the car door and let myself out, filling my lungs with cold, fresh air.
Callie comes around the back of the car and stops me, pressing a hand to my chest to keep me from moving. My entire body freezes at the contact. “Trust me, Gavin. I plan to.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CALLIE
“It’s not Christmas without caramels!”Luna says, leaning against the counter and watching her husband nurture his Christmas cake. He makes the same one every year, and I know for a fact he started it weeks ago and brought it with him from home. That thing needs so many layers of alcohol, it’s practically lethal. It’s also an important part of Norland Family Christmas traditions.
In the Winter household growing up, we ate homemade caramels, chocolate fudge, and did a lot of caroling.
“Mom will want us to wait for her,” I remind Luna.
She frowns. “You’re probably right. I just want one right now. I’ve been dying for caramels all month.”
“Having a craving, perhaps?” I waggle my eyebrows.
“No. I wish.” Her frown deepens, and I immediately regret saying anything at all.
Rhys covers his cake and returns it to the pantry before checking the soup on the stove. “Dinner’s ready.”
“I’ll gather everyone,” I offer. Most of the group is in the living room, which makes it easy. I climb the stairs and knock atGavin’s office door, pushing it open when he tells me to come in. “Hey. Rhys is finished making dinner.”
He swings around on his chair. “It smells lovely.”
I hold his gaze a beat longer. Ever since our conversation earlier in his car, I haven’t been able to get him out of my head. He’s overcome so much. Not only the sorrow and grief of losing relationships, but pulling himself from the depths of depression and fighting to remain at the height of happiness ever since. That takes strength and determination, things he should be proud of. I’ve watched Bekah fall into those lulls sometimes for no reason, and her hopelessness is almost a palpable thing. It breaks my heart to imagine Gavin being brought so low.
Yet he climbed from the darkness, hand over hand, until he reached the light again.
None of that comes out of my mouth. Instead, I stand here like a mute stalker.
The door creaks downstairs, the hinges sending a squeak through the house. He looks to the wall. “Can you see down the stairs?”
I crouch and look at the entryway as voices filter up the stairwell. “It’s your parents.”
