Page 71 of One Small Spark
“I’m sorry. I was just—” I replace the picture where it was. “I was snooping.”
“I gave you permission.” He steps closer, seemingly to get a better look at the photograph, moving in until his arm brushes mine. “He passed away about three years ago.”
“I’m sorry.” It’s been longer than that since my grandma died, and her loss still hurts my soul sometimes.
“Don’t be. He had a good life.”
Callahan gazes down at me. Waiting. I did come all the way out here to see him again, but…ugh. Why are words so hard?
“You’ve got a lot of different kinds of books.” I’m not deflecting at all.
“I like some of everything. Nice shirt.”
“Thanks.” I tug at the hem of my long-sleeve tee. It’s got an illustration of a woebegone frog with the quote,I have a serious case of mood poisoning.
“Do you want to sit down?”
“Yes. No.” I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. When I open them, he’s still standing there looking like the coziest snack. The jerk. “I’m probably distracted enough as it is.”
The smirk that touches his mouth sets off a brush fire in my chest. I take a big step backward. It’s better if I keep my cool for this. He glances me over, the smirk fading as he takes in the extra space between us. He stays calm and collected, though. His easygoing nature throws me off. At least when we’re snarking, I know what he’s thinking.
Or I thought I did. Maybe I’ve never known.
“You’re in my system for good.”
Unhelpful.
I should have planned what to say before I came over here. My brain has been mostly making static noises since my conversation with Hope. A thought or two in my head would have been nice.
“I might possibly owe you an apology. Probably.” I exhale hard. Maybe I should practice some breathing exercises while I’m at it. Anything to get a sense of calm going instead of this worrying adrenaline rush.
Is this how Callahan feels when he’s on the spot? Like he wants to barf and run away and sit with his head between his knees all at the same time?
“For what?”
I can’t tell if he genuinely isn’t sure or if his list of grievances is so long, he needs me to narrow it down.
“For…” I wave a hand in the air. “How I act with you, I guess. What a brat I’ve been, mostly.”
He doesn’t ask questions, but his placid reaction makes me want to explain anyway.
“I was led to believe some things about you that I recently discovered weren’t accurate.”
Why do I sound like a baroness making a non-apology to the servant she let go?
“What things were you led to believe? And by whom?”
This is the hard part about apologizing. You have to actually confront all the stupid stuff you’ve done.
“Is that relevant?” I ask.
“Seems pretty relevant.”
I sigh, but…I want to get past this. I owe him the truth. “Richard Allred.”
Callahan’s gaze darkens, and not in the good way. More like he’s thinking about how many times he can throat-punch the guy before Allred’s lawyers step in.
“He told me you convinced him not to invest in Blackbird’s.” I tick my head to the side, not liking the rest. “And that you said I was a nightmare. I thought you said all that because you hated me. For some reason.”
