Page 13 of The Anchor Holds

Except my gut told me that Calliope Derrick was not the wrong woman.

“You were hiding from her?” I finally ripped my gaze from the space her car had disappeared from to face my father, looking at me with a knowing grin.

He took off his worn Shaw Shack cap, rubbing his silvery hair. It might’ve been all silver, but he still had a lot of it. No balding for the Shaw men. “Of course, I was hiding from her, like any self-respecting man would do,” he joked. “You had it well in hand. I’d have attempted to come to your aid if I thought you needed it, even though she’d chew me up and spit me out in a second.”

This was a small town. I’d lived in it all my life, as had my father. We knew the locals, knew Rowan Derrick and Kip Goodman, their respective wives. And no one in town had escaped the news of Calliope Derrick’s arrival.

I’d overheard more than one local man speaking about her, either saying how hot she was or how stuck up of a bitch she was, depending on whether they’d tried to hit on her and had been shot down. From what I understood, she shot down every man brave enough to try.

I didn’t have much of a life outside of work, busy trying to keep our business afloat and being there for Clara’s treatment. Therefore, I hadn’t had the occasion to stumble upon Calliope Derrick.

Yet she’d found me.

I had sworn off women who even hinted at being complicated. Not because I didn’t respect complicated women. I respected them like I respected the ocean, understood thatthey could be calm, warm, welcoming. And that they could lay fucking ruin to your life in the right conditions. Been there, done that. I actually liked the unpredictability of the ocean. And one day I’d find a woman. But not one like Calliope Derrick.

My mind ventured beyond the woman herself to the news she’d brought.

My guts began churning with unease, all warmth and desire gone from my blood as reality came hurtling back. Weight settled on my shoulders like a thousand-ton dumbbell.

My father’s smile disappeared. The man knew me well and had likely read the change in my own expression.

“I’ll go talk to Rowan,” he declared, rubbing the back of his neck. I knew he felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders too, blaming himself for decisions that led us to this point. Even though he wasn’t in charge anymore, and I’d made my share of mistakes when it came to the business. Not that I’d call the mortgages I’d taken out as a mistake. It was the fucking wrong decisions I made with suppliers, employees, accounting shit. All of that was my brother’s area, but he hadn’t been able to handle it, and no way would I add to his load.

“No, we’ll pay.” I took a tone I didn’t like with my father, but my pride was somewhat wounded, and this outstanding debt had kept me up at night. I didn’t mind owing people a favor, but money, a large sum of it for good work done… Yeah, that didn’t sit right with me. Especially when Kip and Rowan were respectable men with families to think about.

They’d issued the invoice before the news of Clara’s illness went public, then they’d come in person to the restaurant to inform me that they didn’t expect payment. I’d argued heavily at that, but then I’d watched bill after bill come in for treatment, and I’d taken them up on their offer.

I’d swallow my pride, bones and all, for Clara. I’d do anything for her.

An instinct told me that neither Rowan nor Kip knew Calliope had come to see me. I’d heard through the grapevine that she’d taken over the financial side of their construction business, so it stood to reason she didn’t operate under the same agreements as they did. Whether or not she knew about Clara’s condition remained to be seen. I doubted someone in Rowan’s family would be so callous, but Calliope Derrick seemed to wear callous like a badge of honor.

“Elliot…” my father ventured, not knowing the true nature of our finances since I’d taken over but knowing enough to understand we were drowning.

“I’ve got it, Dad.” I made sure my voice was softer this time. Forcing a smile, I clapped him on the shoulder, looking him in the eye. “We’ve got nothing to worry about. Let’s head out.”

It was the first time I’d lied to my father.

Not the first time I’d lied to myself.

Four

Ain’t No Man — The Avett Brothers

CALLIOPE

One of the many things I hated about small towns—beyond the lack of Postmates options and good Chinese food—was that word traveled fast.

I’d excepted it to happen at some point, but not the same fucking day. I didn’t peg Elliot Shaw as a loudmouth. He had a quiet strength, nobility underneath that cheerful veneer. I reasoned if you cut him open, he’d be good, right down to the core.

But I could’ve been wrong.

I’d just poured myself a drink in the hopes of erasing the memory of Elliot Shaw’s smile from my mind. Since when did I get horny from a mansmiling?

“Calliope,” Rowan growled. I knew he was mad because he hadn’t bothered to knock and had slammed the front door on his approach.

Dramatic much?

I glanced up from my laptop to see him stomping into the house, face a mask of fury. His bearded jaw was tight; large, muscled body taut with tension.

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