“I do understand that. And part of me appreciates the fact that you were thinking of Callie’s wellbeing, but the bigger part of me hates you for putting her through hell. Because she did, she went through hell and back—experienced things she doesn’t even know I found out—and she did it alone. Because you changed your number and wouldn’t answer her calls when she needed you. No one else could help her the way you could, especially with what she was going through.” He looks down at his fingers, but I don’t miss the wrinkles forming along his forehead and the sadness in his eyes.
The longer he spoke the more confused I got. What does he know that I don’t? And more importantly, what does he know that he’s not supposed to know? It felt like he was talking in circles that only made sense to him.
“What do you mean?” I ask, surely there’s more than just breakup hell she went through.
Deacon stands and throws some money on the table to cover his drink. “That’s not my story to tell, Beau. As I said, I had to dig to uncover it. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re staying to help out your brother and sister, but Callie survived you once, I don’t want her to have to do it again.”
Standing, I meet his eyes. We’d always been the same high growing up, but since I’ve been gone, he’s managed to gain an inch or two on me. I’m not intimidated, he’s still got his bulk from football and now as a cop, but I’ve got him beat in the size of my chest. I’ve got to take those hits every weekend, and my broad chest reflects that.
“I’m not planning on pursuing her. I just want to co-exist without all the hate. She’s happy and that’s all I’ve ever wanted for her.”
“Then we’re in agreement. I just always thought that would be you.” With that last nugget of confusion, Deacon turns and leave the restaurant. Why would he say that? Callie’s engaged to Mason, does Deacon still not care for the prick we both used to make fun of in school?
Laying some cash down to join what Deacon left, I give the waitress a look hoping I portrayed how sorry I am that we didn’t order anything. Taking a deep breath and walking toward my truck, I guess it could have been worse. At least the discussion didn’t actually come to blows, so I’m calling it a win. Just as I turn the engine over, a text comes through my car system and displays on the dash.
Sawyer: Can you pick up some things for lunch and snacky stuff? I feel like it’s been forever since we went to the store.
Beau: Sure, string bean. What do you feel like eating?
Sawyer: Well, I could use some chocolate and maybe some uh products.
Beau: Like what products?
I’m not a mind reader and products could mean a whole hell of a lot of things. I’m about to call my sister when another text comes through.
Sawyer: You, know... products.
With my finger hovering over the call button, realization dawns on me and I think I stop breathing for a minute. Sawyer’s never come out and said it, but Sterling takes out the trash and told me the day he saw discarded feminine hygiene products. It was a day that took us both by surprise.
Beau: Eww
Sawyer: You asked… Sorry not sorry.
Sawyer had always been my baby girl, and to think of her becoming a ‘woman’ scared the shit out of me. We got lucky with Sawyer, though. Aside from her dance teamwork, she really was an outlier. She was friendly with everyone and no one disliked her, but I’d watched her with her friends and the rest of the dance team and she never really seemed to let people in.
Taking a right out of the parking lot, I head toward the grocery story to pick up the necessities of a pubescent teenage girl. How the hell did this become my job? Sawyer’s a senior, shouldn’t she be getting her own ‘products’? At least I have some frame of reference. I remember the things Callie wanted whenever she had her monthly friend, so I assume that would be as good a place to start as any.
Large strides carry me into the store, my first top in the candy aisle. Moving up and down the rows of junk food, I throw whatever looks greasy or chocolatey into the cart. My last stop being the one aisle all men dread.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” That voice. The one that haunts my dreams says to my back. I hadn’t even felt her cart clip my heel, but when I turn, I can see the horror in her eyes that she may have hurt me.
“It’s okay, Callie. I didn’t even notice,” I say quietly. It feels odd talking to the girl I once planned a future with as if we’re mild acquaintances.
She ducks her head to look down the aisle I’m standing in front of. “Yeah, you looked pretty concentrated.” Her cheeks blush. Had she seen me standing here? Was she distracted by seeing me and lost track of where her cart was going? God, I hope so.
I look back at the aisle in front of me as if it’s filled with bombs ready to explode. “Yeah, I, uhm,” I fake a cough in discomfort. “Sawyer needs, uh.” I can’t even get the word out in front of Callie.
She giggles at my expense and it’s like fuckin’ music to my ears. Almost making this moment worth the discomfort—almost.
“But I’m not really sure what a seventeen-year-old girl needs, and I don’t remember what you had me buy.” Instantly my eyes close and I regret what I said. I didn’t mean to be a reminder of the past.
“I can help—if you want, I mean?” I open my eyes to see a blush take over her cheeks and drift down to her chest.
“That would be fantastic,” I sigh, not only because she’s willing to help, but because it’s Callie and I’ll have a few minutes of unadulterated time to take her in and the changes that time has made in her.
We push our carts side by side through the aisle until we get to the pads and tampons—the products. Callie pushes her cart in front of mine to clear one side, then turns to me.
“Do you know if she’s an outside or inside kind of girl?” she asks and I furrow my brow. She cocks her head to the side and puts her hands on her hips while she raises her eyebrows as if to say, ‘come on you’ll get there.’ Damn she’s still so sexy. That crazy curvy body with a mix of innocence that calls to you on every level.
Shaking my head, I focus on the task at hand. Outside or inside? Wait, she can’t mean. “Oh, fuck, Cal. I don’t know. Shit, I don’t want to know. Man,” I say shaking my head. So not the conversation I want to be having about my sister with my ex-girlfriend. She giggles that little Tinkerbell laugh and I find myself smiling and laughing along with her.
“Sorry, sorry,” she says, turning to the rows of products on the shelves and grabs two different boxes. “Here take one of both. Each of these are value packs with different sizes and both made for girls who are very active. She’ll be fine with either one.”
Taking the packages, I throw them in my cart along with the lunch fixings and munchy food that could feed an army. Callie catalogs my cart as she makes her way to hers, laughing as she goes. Then she off, walking towards the cashiers. I can’t let her go. There’s a physical pull within me that refuses to watch her turn the corner. This interaction was so easy, why can’t we have a talk and discuss how we’ll live in the same town.
My feet being moving of their own will, until my voice finally catches up. “Callie, wait,” I holler.