His hand reached out to stop me. “Can we talk first?”
My shoulder slumped enough for my bag to slip down, but I shoved it back up. “T-talk?” That was the reason we’d hiked up the hill, but the deep ache of his voice was ominous.
“We’re good at talking…” he said. “Most of the time…”
Oh God. How bad was this? “I’m sorry. I know I upset you,” I blurted out. “It’s just that, well—”
“You did nothing wrong,” were the words that came out of his mouth, but his frown said otherwise. I knew this face. He was keeping something from me.
“Why are you lying to me, Cal?”
“I’m not, but…” He stalled for time by raking a hand through his hair. “I haven’t been as honest with you as I could be… Or probably… as Ishouldbe.”
“How serious is this?”
Callan never avoided my gaze, but his pale lashes dipped. He was going to talk to his boots now. “It’s serious, Erin.”
My heart deflated. Was this really happening? Was our friendship ending because I woke up one morning with the dumb idea of making him a sandwich? “You called me Erin again,” I choked out. “When things are good, I’m just… Ez.”
“You’re neverjustEz.”
“Who am I then?”
Callan’s gaze cut to me. The unguarded emotion shimmering in his eyes stole my breath. He’d never looked at me like that before. No… He had. At my wedding. When he’d passed me the ring, he’d held my gaze so long that Jeremy had cleared his throat and waved at him to hurry up. Had he been trying to warn me?
“Erin, the thing is… That morning… In the kitchen…”
“Yeah?”
“And that night in the forest…”
“Yeah?”
“I, um… Bloody hell. This isn’t easy…”
“You’re not kidding…”
A slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “We’re not good at this type of talking.”
“Apparently not. Just blurt it out—”
The hum of wheels crunched in the distance. Callan’s hand shielded his eyes to block the morning glare, and he squinted at the black car looping the circular driveway. It wasn’t Bronte’s tiny hatchback, and Mim usually zoomed around the property on the ATV. She was a menace behind the wheel.
“Expecting someone?” I asked.
“Nope,” Callan said. “It’s probably a backpacker looking for work. The drop-ins have picked up now we’re coming into spring.”
The car stopped, and when the driver’s door opened, a tan suede loafer stepped out, followed by another. Jeremy. His lip curled as he slid off his sunglasses and scanned the overcast skies hanging over the valley. He’d never been a fan of the countryside.
Callan scoffed with disgust. “I should’ve known he’d turn up eventually.” Shaking his head, he propped his fists on his hips. I guess he was ready for whatever was about to happen.
I wasn’t.
“It’ll be okay,” I said, but it was more to reassure myself.
Jeremy leaned into the car and hauled a bouquet of pink peonies off the passenger seat. I swallowed. My favorite flowers…but he was months and another woman too late.
“Daddy!” Matilda cried, racing to Jeremy and lifting her arms.
