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“Remind me to thank Jake,” I murmur, kissing the top of her head and squeezing her gently.
“I would have sought you out eventually, I think,” she says as if she’s pondering her answer. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too. More than you know, Bluebird.”
“I think I’m getting used to that nickname,” she laughs.
“Good,” I respond, my fingers combing through her hair.
“Will you sing to me, Reed?”
“Wh-what?” I stammer, suddenly nervous. Callie has never asked me to sing for her.
“Please? I’ve heard you here and there, but never just the two of us like this and you singing for me. You’ve always just hummed with the radio or sang with it in general.”
“You always said you liked it,” I mumble.
“And I do, but I really want to hear you sing when you’re singing from your heart. Jake once said you were good enough to go to Nashville and hit it big. He told Katie that he’s tried to talk you into going down there for years.”
“Jake’s apparently said entirely too much,” I mumble.
“Reeeeeeed” she whines.
I clear my throat. “I don’t usually sing without my guitar, Callie.”
“It’s just us,” she says like that should make it mean less. I could tell her that, of anyone I could sing to, she’s the most important.
I take a deep breath and quietly sing the words to the chorus of the song that I wrote the day after I met Callie. I’m whispering, so it’s hard keeping the melody, but I put my heart into the song.
“I like the sound of your name on my lips.
And the feel of your skin under my fingertips.
The way you say my name in your sleep.
Baby there’s no such thing as in too deep.
You’re everything.
Everything to me.”
“That’s beautiful. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be loved like that?” she whispers.
“Would it?” I murmur, fighting the urge to confess that I love her that way. She is everything in that song. Hell, she’s the reason I wrote it.
“Definitely. That’s just the chorus, right? Can you sing it all?”
“I don’t know why you want to torture yourself, but I guess,” I mutter, but before I can sing a verse, her cellphone rings, interrupting the peace of the night.
“Sorry,” she mutters, pulling it out of her pants pocket. She must put it on speakerphone because she pushes a button and then holds it below her mouth after motioning for me to be quiet. “Hello?”
“Where in the hell are you, Callie?” a man growls.
Callie jerks against my body and I can feel her tense. The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.
“I—uh just got off work, Dad. I’ll be heading home now,” Callie says already sitting up.
“You lying bitch,” I lean up like I can do something to stop the asshole, but Callie puts her hand against my chest as if to restrain me. “I called Johnson. He said you left his house over an hour ago.”
“I was hungry, so I went into town to grab a sandwich.”
“You mean you were out whoring around while your mother needed you.”
“Mom? Is something wrong with Mom?” Callie asks and I can hear the panic in her voice.
“Like you care! She had another episode tonight. Get your ass here and clean up after her. I’m not going to ask you again. I work my ass off to keep a roof over your head and all I ask is for you to take care of your damn mother.”
“I’m heading that way now,” Callie explains, but her father has already hung up. “Shit,” she hisses, hanging up her phone. “I better get.”
I’m already moving, helping her off the bed.
“I know you’ve always said you had a rough life at home, but I don’t think I quite took you serious, Callie. Does he…” I have trouble forming the words. I slide my hand against the side of her neck, letting my thumb brush carefully against her cheek. “Does he hit you?” I ask because the man I heard on that phone doesn’t sound like he’d hesitate.
“I’ve got to go, Reed,” she says, trying to pull away.
“I’ll take you to your car, but I need you to answer me, Bluebird. Does he ever hit you?”
“He hadn’t,” she mumbles, avoiding my eyes. “He slapped me the other night when I forgot to take the trash out.”
“That son of a bitch,” I growl.
“It’s okay, he never has before. I think it’s just because Mom has been getting worse. Dad doesn’t deal well if he can’t be in control of things.”
“Callie—”
“It’s okay, Reed. I’m saving money. I’m out of here as soon as I can, but I can’t leave Mom—no more than you can leave yours.”
“Callie…” I mumble, shoving my hand into my hair, frustrated as hell.
“I know that’s why you’re still here. It’s why you didn’t go with Jake, or even go to Nashville. We do what we have to, Reed. That’s who we are,” she states, her tone matter of fact, but sad just the same.
