Page 24 of The Anchor Holds

I wanted to know what it had cost Calliope. But there was another question that had been burning my insides, apt to cause an ulcer if I didn’t let it out.

“Did you specify use of violence?” No matter how much ill will I wished on Naomi, and there were bad days when I did wish her a lot, I couldn’t condone violence against women.

I watched Calliope’s teeth gnash together and her gaze briefly go far away. In that moment she seemed to shrink. She looked smaller, more vulnerable. I glimpsed a wound, a hint of something that might’ve happened to her, and fuck did it ignite a flame in me.

But as soon as I clocked it, it was gone, her impenetrable mask back in place.

She lifted her chin. “I didn’t specify, but sending a man to do a woman’s job—read any job from changing a toilet paper roll to running the country—usually results in unintended violence.” She lifted a delicate shoulder, her tone sharp. “It doesn’t surprise me.”

She tried to look unbothered, as if casual acts of violence and whatever coercion techniques were employed to bring in Naomi were simple, commonplace.

I had about a million questions. About her life. About her past. About whether she ever felt safe, relaxed. If her jaw ever unclenched. If anything made her happy. But I settled on one for now. The rest could wait.

“Why?”

She softened. Just at the edges, though it could’ve been a trick of the light.

“Anyone in my position would’ve done it.”

I barked out a laugh. “No, they wouldn’t.” It was the truth. I did still think that people were inherently good, that given the opportunity, they would do the right thing.

But Calliope hadn’t been given the opportunity, not even presented with it. She had dug, got dirt under her nails in order to do something that no one else would’ve thought of doing.

And that made me even more endeared to her, captivated by what might be under the surface of the alluring, harsh and complicated woman.

“You did a good deed, Calliope Derrick,” I murmured. “A wonderful thing, in fact. You might’ve saved a life.” I thought of my brother and the certainty I had that if I lost Clara, I would lose him too. “Multiple lives.”

She scowled at me as if the compliment was the most offensive thing anyone had ever said to her.

“Don’t forget the way I went about this so-called good deed,” she replied, ice in her tone.

I had thought I lived in the world of absolutes. Black and white. Good and evil. It was easier that way. I was a simple man. I liked easy.

When I looked at Calliope, she wasn’t in either black or white category. She lived in the gray.

Thedarkgray.

And yet I was there.

“You gonna say anything else?” She practically spat the question at me. “I’ve got to?—”

I didn’t let her finish. I acted on instinct. Rashly. Taking a risk. Not characteristic of me.

I leaned forward, captured the back of her neck and plastered her lips on mine.

Six

Take Me To Church — Hozier

CALLIOPE

Ishould’ve slammed the door in his face the moment I opened it. Pointed my gun at him. Slung horrendous insults of which I was wholly capable of making him believe me to be—rightly so—a terrible person.

I could’ve lied. About being involved in bringing the mother there.

It had been what I’d planned to do, if on the off chance he figured out my involvement. I didn’t doubt my ability to tell a lie. I’d been doing it since I learned how to speak.

But I didn’t. I got caught up in the verbal volleyball I found I immensely enjoyed with him. Ivy League graduates, billionaires, CEOs… None of them could keep up with me, could amuse me.

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