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“No prob.”
Walking through the house, I realize I don’t exactly know where the laundry room is, but I figure it has to be near the kitchen, or at least on the back porch. I’m still wandering when I pass by the bedroom where Callie has been staying. It’s the only one with an unmade bed and clothes hanging on the back of a chair.
And an open suitcase on the floor.
My stomach drops like I’m riding a roller coaster in free-fall.
I shouldn’t snoop, but I have to know if what I glimpsed is what I’m afraid it might be. Beside the suitcase sit several neatly stacked piles of clothes, including the ones I bought for her.
Fuck.
It’s my own fault, just like everything is my own damn fault. I should have told her how I feel. I should have asked if she’d consider staying. And I meant to.
But maybe it wouldn’t have mattered. She told me from the start that she needs to run when she feels trapped. And lying on the floor here is her escape plan, clear as day.
She doesn’t want to be here. Probably never did. I was just a distraction for her until she felt that urge for something different.
CHAPTER 30
Callie
Luke has been weird ever since he went inside the house to get the pool towels, and I have no idea why.
He was overjoyed earlier to have a court ruling guaranteeing him custody of Scout, so maybe it’s just exhaustion. All I know is that he’s barely spoken a word to me for most of the afternoon. He ended up jumping in the pool to swim with Scout, but there was no sign of the playful way he was with me the last time we were in the pool.
After Scout had been pruning and was tired, Luke told him it was time to head home for dinner, a bath, and bedtime. Again, not a word about needing help with that, even though I’ve been part of that routine for the past month.
“Do you…want some help? I can cook dinner while you do the bath, so it’ll be ready when Scout’s in his jammies.”
“Can we have grilled cheese?” Scout asks. “Daddy, can Callie make us grilled cheese?”
A flicker of something crosses Luke’s face, but it’s gone before I can put a name to it. Disappointment? Resignation? Sadness?
“Sure, if you’re sure you don’t have someplace to be,” he says.
“I have nowhere to be, and I’m happy to do it.” I try to keep the brightness in my voice, but there’s a pit in my stomach that’s starting to grow. Something’s wrong. And it’s not until Scout has eaten three grilled cheese triangles, brushed his teeth, listened to an entire book, and fallen asleep that I get Luke alone so we can talk.
He walks into the kitchen, where I’m just drying the last of the dishes. “You didn’t need to do that,” he says stiffly.
“Come here,” I say, holding my arms out so he’ll come in for a hug. He hesitates for a second, but then walks over and stands close enough that I can wrap my arms around him. I feel him inhale a long, shaky breath. It reminds me of how he kept doing that when we first met, how he was so wound up. Something has him wound up now.
As I squeeze him in a hug, I feel the stiffness in his frame start to loosen. After another moment, his arms come around me, and he drops his face to my hair. We stand like that, letting our breathing be the dialogue until he seems calm enough to let go.
“What’s going on?” I ask, stepping back so I can see his face. It’s a cloudy mask of uncertainty. Like a part of him wants to wrap himself back around me and another part wants to bolt.
“Earlier. When I went to get the towels, I, um, saw you’re packing up. Heading back to LA?”
He looks gutted. The chunk of iron hovering in my chest drops to the bottom of my stomach.
“Oh. I, um…I figured once the trial was over…you wouldn’t need me for anything.”
“Right. That was our agreement.”
I wish I could take away the pain stitched in every crevice of his face. It hurts me to see him this way.
“Exactly,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m a fucking idiot, but that’s my problem, not yours.”
I start to go to him. I want to bury my face in his chest and make the awful ache that we both seem to feel go away. But he takes a step backward and shakes his head.
