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I’m starting to think it will never get better.
“A few.”
“Where are you playing next? Maybe I can get Mitch to come with me to watch you. You should have family there to cheer you on.”
“I really wish you wouldn’t, Callie,” I tell her honestly. I slide my body out of the cabinet and return my tools to the bag. I force myself to look up at her. I see the hurt on her face and I hate it. There’s not much I can do to help it, however.
Where Callie is concerned, hurt is always right there.
“Reed, I think it would do you and Mitch both good if we could mend some fences. He could have used his brother after we lost Ryan.”
“I think you and I see Mitch differently.”
“Reed,” she breathes out, her voice filled with sadness.
“Your drain was loose from the sink. It should be good now,” I tell her, changing the subject. I stand up, getting my tools, and move around her to leave the room. She reaches out to put her hand on my shoulder, and instantly, the electricity and heat hit me.
Christ, why doesn’t this go away?
“I never meant…”
“Callie, just let it go.”
“I miss my friend Reed.”
“I can’t do this.”
“We were friends before anything. Maybe if we tried…”
“I waited for you, Callie, even knowing about the baby. I begged you to pick me. You didn’t.”
“Reed—”
“I gotta go.”
I walk away, anger burning a hole in my gut. I’m an ass and Callie doesn’t deserve it. She married Mitch because she was having his baby. She married him because I pushed her away.
That’s the truth, but it doesn’t make it any easier.
I’m only human. What the fuck does she expect from me?
Whatever it is, I can’t give it.
It’s just not in me.
CHAPTER 2
Callie
Everyone makes mistakes. Sometimes they’re small and sometimes big. As I watch Reed walk away, misery swamps me, and the face that I put on for the world to see… crumbles. I sink to the floor, letting my tears—that are always there—fall.
I’m not crying over Reed, although I suppose that’s part of it. I’m crying for everything—every tiny mistake I’ve made since moving to Macon, Texas. For not feeling like I was good enough because my father never wanted me, for trying to find that love in Mitch, Reed, for not waiting for Reed, for trying to love Mitch…. All of it.
But most of all—as always—I cry for losing my baby by being too stupid not to wear better shoes on the ice.
I reach out above my head to the small ledge on the half wall in front of me. It’s made to make kind of a foyer at the front door. It’s held me up while I’ve cried more times than I can count. I fumble until my fingers find the cordless phone I keep there, and then I grab it, bringing it down to me. I automatically dial the numbers without looking. It’s Dr. Salatheil’s private number. I wonder if he ever regrets giving me that number? I know I would in his shoes.
“Callie?”
“Can I…” I stop to take in a breath, the sound shuddering through my whole body as I try to get control of myself. “Can I see you today?” I finally ask, ending with sniffles and blubbering that do nothing but make me feel weaker.
“What triggered today?” he asks, and because he knows me so well, he knows something or someone did.
“Reed came by to fix a water leak. His mother called him.”
“I have an opening at three,” he says, resigned.
I nod. “Thanks, Dr. S.”
“Remember your breathing,” he says and clicks off.
I hang up, dropping the phone to the floor and manage to begin the breathing exercises he taught me to help stave off a panic attack. Guilt consumes me because, yet again, I feel so weak and ashamed of who I am, of what I’ve become. I can’t let anyone see. My gaze moves over to the wall. I stare at an old picture of Mitch and I inwardly cringe. I hate that picture. Mitch pouted because I had pictures of his family—namely his mom and Reed—and my mom on the wall but none of him or us. So, I relented and put that one. It’s right after I found out I was pregnant. I wonder if anyone else can see the circles under my eyes. Dr. S. says I turned to Mitch looking for love from the rejection I felt through my father and Reed. I don’t know if it’s true. He has degrees and years of therapy experience, so maybe it is. All I feel is weak. He asks me all the time why I stay with Mitch and my answer is always the same.
We’re married.
I said I do, and while not in love, I was going to make it work. I felt I owed that to my son. After I lost him, I gave up hope. I can admit that. It didn’t help that Mitch hated me for being stupid, for causing the death of our child. He likes to tell me that I deserve whatever I get because of that. Dr. S. tells me to get out of the situation, not to accept his hate. He says I need to see it for what it is, but in this… I think he’s wrong and Mitch is right.
