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“I mean, seriously, Callie! If we were starving and didn’t have a bite of food in the house, I still couldn’t bring myself to eat the poor thing. It’s a defenseless creature. What is it about a normally sane man that makes him fill with testosterone all because he shoots an innocent animal? I don’t understand!”
I giggle. It feels good to hear her blather on about stuff and not have to worry about Mitch for at least an hour or so.
“I bet he’d give up hunting if you’d agree to marry him,” I point out and she sighs.
“Yeah, he probably would. He’s such a good guy, Callie. The best really. He deserves someone with a full heart to give him, you know?”
“He wants your heart,” I counter.
“I know,” she sighs. I think I’m just not the happily ever after type, Callie. I know that sounds horrible…”
“No, it doesn’t. I understand.”
“You do?” she asks sounding surprised.
“Definitely.”
“So, what do I do?”
“Live your life. Marriage isn’t important. Just be happy. I think I would have been much happier if I had never said I do.”
“Well, at the risk of bringing up ‘He who should not be named,’ I can agree with that by at least one hundred percent,” she says, making me laugh.
“Are we making What’s His Name Lord Voldemort now?”
“If the shoe fits, honey,” she laughs. I shake my head thankful that no matter what, my bestie can always make me laugh.
“Hey, would you like to go to the antique fair with me next weekend?”
“The one in Amarillo?” I ask, mentioning the show that we used to never miss. After I lost Ryan, we stopped doing a lot of things. Now I wonder if it was because I miscarried or if Mitch discouraged me and made me feel guilty. I’m starting to think it was the latter and that just makes me feel like even more of a fool.
“That’s the one. I—”
I scream. I don’t think. I don’t hold back. I scream—loudly. I also jump so hard that I rattle the table and dishes. I retreat in the corner of my booth, huddling against the seat and I do it all with Katie looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Callie?” she looks at me and the alarm on her face shames me. I’m trembling. I know I shouldn’t be, but I am. I can’t stop it. Katie reaches over carefully and puts her hand on mine that has a death grip on the table. “The waitress just dropped a platter of dishes, honey. It’s okay.” I nod, but I can’t talk. I can’t stop my reaction. When it happened, I thought it was gunfire. When it happened, I thought it was Mitch carrying through with his threats.
“I—I—I’m sorry,” I respond, my teeth chattering.
“It’s okay. It’s probably some type of trauma from the car wreck,” she rationalizes. I’m not sure she believes that, but I’m grateful she makes that excuse. I watch as if I’m outside of my own body as she motions a waitress over and asks for some water. I can feel everyone looking at me. I do my best to push past this unreasonable fear and sit normally instead of trying to fade into the wall.
I force a smile when I look at Katie. Somehow, I’m going to have to a find a way to get through this dinner and get out of here without bringing any more attention to myself.
CHAPTER 17
Reed
TWO MONTHS LATER
“Are you getting rich and famous out there in Cali, Reed?”
“Very funny, Katie,” I mutter, shaking my head.
“Seriously, how are you doing?”
“Good. I have a meeting with my agent next week to discuss an offer we got from Vitalize Records.”
“Damn, they handle some big names,” she says, obviously surprised. She’s not as surprised as I am, though.
“You keep up with record companies?” I ask, letting her hear my shock.
“I’m not just a pretty face, Reed Lane,” she huffs, making me laugh.
I sit down on a bench that’s on the sidewalk. I’ve been jogging to clear my head. I’ve been having horrible nightmares about Callie. I don’t know where they’re coming from, but they’re slowly killing me. I can’t remember the last time I slept a full night. What little I sleep now is thanks to alcohol and I don’t like that at all. I’m doing it more and more. Which is dangerous. I don’t want to become my father. My past should have taught me that—if nothing else.
“I never thought that for a minute,” I laugh.
“You sound winded,” she says after a minute or two of silence.
“I was jogging,” I tell her, feeling way too tired for no more than I’ve ran. I am horribly out of shape apparently.
“Damn look at you being all healthy and shit.”
“Yeah, yeah. How are things in Macon?” I ask, unable to withhold the question any longer.
