“Samuel, can I speak to you for a second?”
I’m finishing up some yard work in my childhood home when my mother’s voice breaks through the mental barriers I put up every time I come back here.
Trey was fine with me taking Saturday morning off, and although Maddie is on a playdate with a friend from school and Pete is who-the-fuck-knows-where, I still wanted to come and see my mother.
If her stiff tone is any indication, however, I may regret having dropped by after all.
I follow her into the kitchen, and it only takes me a second to notice the picture of Maddie and me on the Donuts with Daddy party at her school a couple of weeks ago. In it, I’m kneeling next to my sister with an arm around her as we show our donuts to the camera with huge smiles on our faces. An exact copy of that photo hangs proudly on my fridge.
But as my mother picks it up and I notice the troubled expression on her wrinkled face, I know something’s wrong.
“I found it at the bottom of Maddie’s backpack.” She looks at it with sad eyes before redirecting her gaze towards me. “What is this?”
I blink, confused. “What do you mean?”
“When did you go to Maddie’s school, and why are the two of you eating donuts?”
I look at her like she’s just asked me about the meaning of life and expects an accurate answer. “What? Mom, this is Donuts with Daddy. Maddie came home with a note from her teacher weeks ago, didn’t you read it?”
Why do I even bother? By the guilty face she’s making, it’s obvious that she didn’t. I rub the mental exhaustion off my face as she asks me, “If this is a father-daughter thing, why did you go with her?”
“Because her sorry excuse of a sperm donor refused to go since he doesn’t like donuts and, apparently, that’s more important than spending time with his daughter. That’s why.”
I count to three in my head in a failed attempt to calm down. This is what bothers me the most about my mother—her inability to see the harmful shit right under her nose.
Her relationship with Maddie’s father has never been healthy, but she’s so scared of being alone after my father left us that she won’t dump his sorry ass even if he deserved it. Which he does.
Pete’s not abusive to her or my sister, or else he’d be ten feet under the ground already, but he’s a lazy fuck. He doesn’t help my mother at home or with their own daughter, and loses his job every few months for who knows what reason.
My mother’s shifts at the grocery store aren’t enough to pay all the bills, the car, Maddie’s school and her ballet classes, so that’s why I’ve been helping her financially since my sister was born. I don’t mind doing it at all; not when that’d mean a happier and easier life for both of them. I can afford it with how good my business is going, so it’s not a struggle.
But shit. It’s her father who should be doing all of this. It’s my mother who should be demanding at least the bare minimum from him. But it’s been nearly five years and it’s still the same fucking nonsense. And maybe that’s why I’m tired of holding my tongue any longer.
“Samuel,” she warns. “Don’t talk about Pete like that. You know I don’t appreciate it.”
“And I don’t appreciate him not spending time with Maddie and not raising her like a good father should do.” I’ve never yelled at my mother, not since I was a moody teenager who needed to be put in his place, and I sure as hell won’t start now. I’m not losing my temper over rat-ass Pete.
Setting the picture down on the kitchen counter, she pinches the bridge of her nose and shakes her head. “Did the teachers say anything?”
Really. That’s what she’s worried about. That’s what she’s deciding to take from this conversation. Not that the literal father of her child forgets he has a daughter at all, but what other people might say about his absence. I can’t say I’m surprised that she keeps ignoring the truth, but it sure hurts like hell.
“No. I told them Pete couldn’t make it and that’s why I went instead.”
She nods. “Good.”
“No, Mom, it’s not good.” I step closer so she can look at me. She doesn’t. “Maddie was crying, for fuck’s sake. She told me her father didn’t love her, and I had to stand there with a broken heart and fucking lie to her and tell her he did.”
That’s when her eyes, the exact same dark shade as mine, snap up to me. “Don’t you dare accuse Pete of not loving his own daughter, Samuel. You don’t know a thing.”
“I don’t know a thing?” I can feel my temper rising with every breath I take, and I know I’ll have to get out of here soon if I don’t want to explode. “How can you be so confident that he loves her when he never pays attention to her, never plays with her or takes her anywhere? Never buys her presents or candy, and lets her down when it counts the most? If he loves her like you’re so confident he does, he sure as hell doesn’t show it. I act like a father to her, Mom, not him. Open your damn eyes once and for all.”
She slams her palm on the counter, the rage in her eyes mirroring mine. “Enough! You’re not here all the time, I’m the one who sees Pete with Maddie and I can assure you he tries his best. He’s under a lot of stress right now with his job search, you know this.”
I roll my eyes. “His job search from the couch while he watches TV, you mean? Then yes, I’m aware of it.” Shaking my head, I pin my mother down with a hardened stare. “He’s a disgrace, Mom, and you’re not going to change my mind about him. He’s not a good father to Maddie and I’m scared to fucking death that one day she’ll notice how distant he is and grows up with some kind of trauma. Why can’t you see how serious this is?”
“That’s not going to happen, don’t be dramatic.” She rubs her temples. “Samuel, I… I can’t do this right now. I need a moment.”
“Of course. I have places to be, anyway.” It’s a total lie, but I don’t want to be here anymore. I lean in to kiss her forehead. “I’ll come over to see Maddie tomorrow.”
She only nods, and I leave. I don’t look back for fear of seeing her reach into the liquor cabinet because I don’t need another piece of my heart shattering right now.
Once I’m sitting behind the wheel in my car, I take a deep breath and try to calm down. The first thing I learned when Trey’s dad taught us to drive at sixteen was to not get on the road while you’re upset, and the last thing I need is to get into a damn accident. Pulling out my phone, I don’t even hesitate as I open our chat.
Me: Where are you? I could use some Gracie and Sammy time right now
By the time she texts back minutes later, my boiling anger has significantly subsided.
Grace: What’s wrong?
Grace: I’m at The Teal Rose in Melrose Creek
Grace: Wait, I’ll send you the address. You can come now if you want.
I smile at how she always doubles and triple texts me and is completely unapologetic about it. I love it.
When she sends me the location of some place I’ve never heard of, I finally pull out of my mother’s driveway with a lighter feeling in my chest. The mere prospect of spending some time with Grace manages to push all my worries and anger away, and I don’t know what to make of that.
***
I’ve always been a laid-back dude, which means I don’t do the whole possessive and jealous shebang. I’ve never felt that way towards a woman, no girlfriend of mine at all, and I have no plans to start now.
Too bad my plans go out the fucking window the second I walk into The Teal Rose.
Grace is standing behind the front desk, wearing a bright blue wool jumper that makes her look like an angel on Earth along with that breathtaking smile I always crave. I’m so distracted by her beckoning aura that I almost don’t notice the blond guy talking to her.
Almost.
Try-Hard Dude has this whole surfer vibe to him, even though the nearest beach is miles away from Warlington. Backwards cap, loose hoodie and jeans, a surfboard necklace hanging from his neck, you know what I mean. And yes, you guessed it—he looks ridiculous as hell.
On top of that, the way he talks to Grace makes it painfully obvious that he’s into her, and I want to rip his head off and feed it to the wild dogs just because. He leans into the counter with a gesture that seems oh-so-casual but instead looks oh-so-practiced-in-front-of-the-mirror. I want to wipe that damn smile off his face and stick it up his—
“Cal, hey!” When Grace notices me, her smile widens, and my shoulders relax at the way her eyes shine. What the hell is happening to me? “I’ll be done in just a second. You don’t mind waiting, do you?”
And because I’m a petty bastard and I want this fucker to know she’s mine, I smile easily and say, “Of course not, babe. Finish up, don’t worry about me.”
Her cheeks redden and she looks away, visibly affected by the nickname.
Cal, 1. Try-Hard Asshole, 0.
Wait.
What the fuck am I doing?
Barely a month ago, she gave her cousin hell for behaving like a territorial caveman and here I am now, doing the same thing when I don’t even know why I’m feeling this way in the first place.
I don’t have a claim on Grace. I know this. The only thing going on between us is a beautiful, genuine friendship I’ve just jeopardized again by opening my stupid mouth.
Seeing her with another guy, though, has triggered something ugly and deeply buried inside of me. There wasn’t anything I could’ve done to fight it, not when every sensible part of me went numb at the sight of her laughing with another man. Boy. That kid’s got nothing on me. He’s all lean limbs with no real muscle. And sure, he might be tall, but I still tower over him a few good inches.
All right, and now I’m comparing myself to this random guy. Am I a damn high schooler or some shit? When have I ever done such a foolish thing? I’m thirty years old, for fuck’s sake.
“Hey.” Try-Hard Dude holds out his hand to me as Grace disappears into the back of the shop. His eyes are too blue, and his smile is too white. “I’m Luke. I share some classes with Grace.”
If I shake his hand, it’s only because my mother raised me right. “Callaghan.”
I can’t tell if he doesn’t care about my stiffness or if he’s just that oblivious, but he keeps talking to me like I give a fuck. “You work at that tattoo parlor, right? Inkjection? I think I’ve seen you around.”
“I own the place.” Because it’s extremely important that he knows this.
“Oh, that’s dope! I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo, but I can never make up my mind on a design, or a spot.”
And only because I’ve just told this asshole where I work and that the shop is mine and we can’t afford whispers of the owner being a douche, I put on my fakest smile and tell him, “You can come by any time. I’m sure we can work something out.”
“Nice, man. I’ll take you up on your offer.” He nods eagerly just as Grace comes back to the front. Try-Hard knocks on the wooden desk twice with his knuckles. “Right, gotta take off, but I’ll see you on Monday?”
She smiles, and I want to glue his eyes closed so he can’t see her beautiful face ever again. “Sure, Luke. Have a nice weekend and tell your mom I said hi.”
His mom? Grace knows his mom?
“Will do.” After he winks at her, I don’t even bother to answer when he turns to me and says, “Bye, Callaghan. I’ll stop by the shop soon.”
The door closes behind us, and I still don’t move an inch or even glance at her, too scared of what I’ll find in those expressive hazel pools. I can feel her looking at me from the corner of my eye, but no. I’m not doing this right now.
“Babe, huh?” Her voice sounds teasing and not angry, so there’s that.
Even so, I don’t look at her. Instead, I focus on the shop around me. I’ve never been to this part of town or The Teal Rose before, and I wonder why Grace is working behind the counter on a Saturday morning. Does she have a second job? She told me once that her position as a ballet teacher pays well and her dads help her cover most of her expenses until she graduates and finds a full-time job so she can focus on her studies, so maybe it’s not about money.
When my eyes land on the big teal sign behind her, though, I understand.
I understand everything.
The Teal Rose is a charity shop.
And all profits go to a local women’s shelter.
Just like that, everything comes crashing down on me like a deadly avalanche.
My friends wanted me to come up to a random guy tonight and get his number because they thought it would be good for me.
Something happened to me a few years ago. It was pretty bad.
Listen, men are shit and Grace knows it first-hand.
The reason she freaks out when she’s around men.
Why Aaron behaves so protectively and doesn’t trust any guy near her.
“Cal?”
I can’t breathe.
I can’t feel my pulse, my arms, my legs.
I can only feel my fucking heart shattering inside my chest.
“Cal?”
This can’t be true. She couldn’t have been…
“Cal.”
I blink. “Sorry.”
When I finally look down at her, her hand is on my arm and her whole face screams worry and confusion. “Are you okay? You look pale. Let me get you some water.”
“You don’t have to.” I manage to let out somehow past my burning throat. Speaking more than one word right now seems like an impossible task. But it’s too late, because she’s disappeared behind the beaded curtain again, leaving me all alone with this fucked-up realization.
The last thing I need is to jump to alarming conclusions, but it’s too difficult not to when every little hint points to my suspicions being right. Her volunteering at a women’s shelter of all places isn’t a coincidence. I know it deep in my soul.
When she comes back with a plastic cup full of cold water, I can only stare at her like a complete fool.
I need to hear it. I need her to tell me it isn’t true.
“Cal, you’re scaring me.”
Taking the cup from her small hand, I take a sip and collect my thoughts to avoid stepping over the same line I’ve almost crossed far too many times now. She doesn’t owe me a thing. I have no right to demand an explanation.
“Sorry.” I leave the empty cup on the counter and debate whether to pull her in for a hug, because I need to feel that she’s safe and whole right now, against my chest. I decide against it. “I didn’t know you worked here.”
“Yeah.” She looks around the place shyly, avoiding my gaze. “I volunteer to run the shop on Saturdays. Luke is my supervisor’s son, and we happen to share some classes too. Small world, huh?”
I can’t even find it in me to be bothered by Try-Hard Luke’s mere existence at this moment. Not when something so painful is brewing inside of me. Clearing my throat, I say, “It’s nice of you to volunteer for such a great cause. I’m sure your help is much appreciated.”
She gives me that gentle smile of hers that usually makes my heart beat faster and my stomach jump. Today, though, I only feel hurt. “Yeah, it’s a… It’s a cause that means a lot to me.”
I can only nod. Every single word I thought of saying dies on my lips, choked to death by the heavy lump forming in my throat. And when she looks at me and her eyes are glassy in such a raw, naked way I’ve never seen before, every hope of all this only being a bad dream dissipates into thin air.
“I volunteer at the women’s shelter because I… I know what it feels like to be in their shoes.” Her hands start to shake, and so does her voice, and suddenly neither of us are breathing. “I… I was… I was raped four years ago.”
Every single living thing inside my body shuts down.
My brain, my heart, my soul.
Six words.
That’s all it takes to break me.
