words. Once she started she couldn’t stop them. As if somewhere in them she’d find the truth. The secret. The answer.
“He was the best dad. The best man. I used to wake up afraid. So afraid. And I’d cry and he’d hold me and tell me I was okay. That I was safe and he’d never let that change. And then he started taking me to Dairy Queen for a Dilly Bar and Dr Pepper to keep the nightmares away. It worked. God, Riley, how did I not know?”
The pity was still there. She wanted it gone. She wanted the passion, the anger, the incredulity. Anything was better than pity.
“You were a kid, Callah. Who knows how old? If that’s your first memory, you must’ve been what five, six?”
He was trying to make this better and she wanted to laugh but she couldn’t because this was never going to get better. “Five, I think. I don’t know.” Another memory surfaced and then she did know.
“Five for sure. Definitely. I started kindergarten the next week. I didn’t want to go.” Funny that she’d forgotten those tears until this moment. It didn’t matter. A lifetime had passed and somehow something had changed and suddenly she was in danger and it was her father’s fault.
Riley’s computer beeped and she looked back at the obituary of the young woman who shared her name. Had she been killed because of her name? Because Callah’s parents had kept her identity a secret?
Riley followed her eyes to the computer screen and logged off the Internet. As if a blank screen changed anything.
Shaking her head, she stood and walked to the window. Outside hundreds of people played in the perfect summer day. Blue skies, soft wind, hot air all combined to draw them out. But someone was out there looking for her. Someone dangerous.
“Your brother said a couple hours.”
Riley followed her across the room. His hand touched her shoulder, and she thought about shrugging it away. She didn’t want his warmth. “He’ll help us get to the bottom of this.”
This time she did laugh. The sound was ugly, harsh, foreign. Chocolate wasn’t going to fix this. Nothing was.
“You asked if I knew how to use the gun. How good are you?”
“I can hit a target.”
His confidence made her smile. She hoped he was right, hoped they both could do at least that. “Good. Because if it’s going to take your brother a couple hours to get us help, we might have to do more than hit targets.”
“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, Callah,” Riley said. And God, she wanted to believe him. To trust him. To pretend they really stood a chance against whoever it was looking for them.
Riley’s laugh made her jump. Nothing about this was funny. “What?”
She frowned at him, but he just shook his head, refusing her censure. “It’s just watching you standing there all bad ass with that gun, I’m wondering why you didn’t shoot Charlie Benson.”
Callah looked down at the gun and then back at him and tried to laughed too, but it ended up sounding more like a whimper. Because the comfort of this gun was just another piece of her built on lies.
She swallowed the pain away. “I haven’t touched a gun in twelve years.” She’d been searching for herself in self-help books, deep breathing and meditation. Maybe this would work better.
Whatever. At least the pity was gone from Riley’s eyes. She wasn’t sure the open desire was better, but it would do for now.
“Twelve years is a long time.”
Yeah. It was. They both knew it. And even though he was talking about them and the nights they’d spent in each other’s arms, she chose to answer about the weapon in her hand. “I can still shoot this gun.”
Behind him the screen saver on his computer blocked her view of the dangerous truth. Someone wanted her dead. Someone might have killed already. She’d do whatever it took to keep them from succeeding again.
Riley didn’t know if it was the danger or their past or her current despair, but he wanted Callah
“He was the best dad. The best man. I used to wake up afraid. So afraid. And I’d cry and he’d hold me and tell me I was okay. That I was safe and he’d never let that change. And then he started taking me to Dairy Queen for a Dilly Bar and Dr Pepper to keep the nightmares away. It worked. God, Riley, how did I not know?”
The pity was still there. She wanted it gone. She wanted the passion, the anger, the incredulity. Anything was better than pity.
“You were a kid, Callah. Who knows how old? If that’s your first memory, you must’ve been what five, six?”
He was trying to make this better and she wanted to laugh but she couldn’t because this was never going to get better. “Five, I think. I don’t know.” Another memory surfaced and then she did know.
“Five for sure. Definitely. I started kindergarten the next week. I didn’t want to go.” Funny that she’d forgotten those tears until this moment. It didn’t matter. A lifetime had passed and somehow something had changed and suddenly she was in danger and it was her father’s fault.
Riley’s computer beeped and she looked back at the obituary of the young woman who shared her name. Had she been killed because of her name? Because Callah’s parents had kept her identity a secret?
Riley followed her eyes to the computer screen and logged off the Internet. As if a blank screen changed anything.
Shaking her head, she stood and walked to the window. Outside hundreds of people played in the perfect summer day. Blue skies, soft wind, hot air all combined to draw them out. But someone was out there looking for her. Someone dangerous.
“Your brother said a couple hours.”
Riley followed her across the room. His hand touched her shoulder, and she thought about shrugging it away. She didn’t want his warmth. “He’ll help us get to the bottom of this.”
This time she did laugh. The sound was ugly, harsh, foreign. Chocolate wasn’t going to fix this. Nothing was.
“You asked if I knew how to use the gun. How good are you?”
“I can hit a target.”
His confidence made her smile. She hoped he was right, hoped they both could do at least that. “Good. Because if it’s going to take your brother a couple hours to get us help, we might have to do more than hit targets.”
“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, Callah,” Riley said. And God, she wanted to believe him. To trust him. To pretend they really stood a chance against whoever it was looking for them.
Riley’s laugh made her jump. Nothing about this was funny. “What?”
She frowned at him, but he just shook his head, refusing her censure. “It’s just watching you standing there all bad ass with that gun, I’m wondering why you didn’t shoot Charlie Benson.”
Callah looked down at the gun and then back at him and tried to laughed too, but it ended up sounding more like a whimper. Because the comfort of this gun was just another piece of her built on lies.
She swallowed the pain away. “I haven’t touched a gun in twelve years.” She’d been searching for herself in self-help books, deep breathing and meditation. Maybe this would work better.
Whatever. At least the pity was gone from Riley’s eyes. She wasn’t sure the open desire was better, but it would do for now.
“Twelve years is a long time.”
Yeah. It was. They both knew it. And even though he was talking about them and the nights they’d spent in each other’s arms, she chose to answer about the weapon in her hand. “I can still shoot this gun.”
Behind him the screen saver on his computer blocked her view of the dangerous truth. Someone wanted her dead. Someone might have killed already. She’d do whatever it took to keep them from succeeding again.
Riley didn’t know if it was the danger or their past or her current despair, but he wanted Callah
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