Page 21 of Operator
Almost as soon as I start reading, tears fill my eyes, but at least they don’t have the bite of intense grief they normally do. It’s more like a tender ache. I’d loved Ian, so much. Not like I’d loved Callum. With Callum, it had been sharp, intense, and painful. Ian’s love had been a balm, a comfort. Loving him had been a joy, and losing him, especially the way I lost him, had left a wound deeper than I thought I could bear.
There are letters in the box. The ones I’d written him while he was deployed. He hadn’t always had time to write back long-hand, but he’d Skype when he could. I liked it though, and I knew it perked him up to get my little care packages with notes about what Daisy, Bunny and I were up to. I reread them now, and it helps the pain to know he kept all of them.
I pull one from the stack and recognize Ian’s handwriting. Before I can read it, a familiar black truck pulls into the drive. I sigh, too emotionally overwrought to dedicate any more emotion than exhaustion, and put the letter back down. By the time Callum gets to the porch, I’ve polished off the rest of the nonalcoholic beer.
He lifts one slashing brow at the sight of the bottle, but doesn’t comment. “Mom wants to know if you want to go over to visit Dad.”
“Is he doing okay?” I ask, my heart jumping. I’ve been so wrapped up in myself I haven’t even been to visit Todd since he was admitted.
“He’s fine. Ornery as ever. They think he’ll be released in the next few days. Mom’s just going up to hang out with him for the day tomorrow and thought you’d might want to tag along. Personally, I think she just hopes you’ll go into labor so she’ll be there when the baby’s born.”
“Don’t say that,” I chide. Bunny may be…well, Bunny, but I really do love her.
He lifts a shoulder. “Do you wanna come or not?”
“Of course. I need to talk to them anyway.”
I don’t know if it’s the tone in my voice or if Callum can simply read my body language, but his gaze sharpens. “What’s wrong?”
“How do you know something’s wrong?” At his look, I wave away my own defensive response. Of course he can tell. No doubt my face is red, splotchy, and swollen from crying. Me in all my pregnant glory. If I wanted to look good for Cal—which I don’t—this would be the exactoppositeof how I’d envision myself. “Nothing too bad. I just have to let them know I can’t work at the diner for a while. Doctor’s orders.”
Rather than demanding answers like I thought he would, Cal sits down beside me on the swing. I have to scoot a little more away from him because his presence is so overwhelming, and I’m overwhelmed enough as it is. Without words, he gestures for me to continue. His nearness is a comfort, which only makes me want to cry some more. I’ve so desperately needed someone to lean on. My whole body aches to let it be him. To let him take me in his arms and shield me from the harsh realities bulleting me around the clock.
I’m nearly trembling, that’s how badly I want him to touch me. My voice quavers with it when I speak. “High blood pressure. I’m supposed to be taking it easy for the next few weeks.”
He doesn’t say I told you so, luckily for him. He pushes the swing with one foot, soothing me with the gentle motion without ever laying a hand on me. How is it that this one man manages to rile me up and then soothe me? It had never been like that with Ian. Things with him were always so…steady.
“They’ll be fine. I’ll cover your shifts.”
Now it’s my turn to lift a brow. “You’regoing to waitress?”
“Sure, why not?” he asks with a teasing grin. The flash of his teeth distracts me from the depressing news about my health and the worries about the baby, if only for a moment.
I nudge his shoulder with mine. “Just didn’t picture you as the type.”
He wraps an arm around me and I let him. The comfort from a single gesture warms me from the inside out. My eyes dip closed as I soak it in. “Why? Because I’ll be carrying plates instead of weapons?”
I pause, then, “Pretty much,” I admit. “Why did you quit? If you don’t mind me asking. I don’t think I ever did.”
Callum’s eyes stare unseeing at the front yard where Daisy is investigating a flower bush. “I probably wouldn’t have answered you even if you did.”
My heart aches for him. “Why not?”
He meets my gaze and my breath catches. “Wasn’t an easy thing to talk about.”
I don’t want to pry, but I can tell it still hurts him, and I’ve always hated seeing him in pain. “Well, I’m here to listen if you ever do want to talk about it.”
He doesn’t look at me as he answers, but I find myself studying him, the way his jaw works underneath the scruff of beard and the dip of his throat as it disappears into the simple black t-shirt. “We lost a teammate at the end of our last deployment.”
I want to take his hand, but I’m afraid to touch him too much. I’m afraid I won’t ever stop. “This is the one where you and Ian were deployed at the same time.”
Nodding, he says, “Yeah. Think we were in the same region. Anyway, it was a shitshow. The whole team broke apart after that.”
“You still don’t talk to them?” This surprises me. They were so close, they had to have been. To lose one of them would have been devastating. I find my eyes misting over and I’m glad he’s staring at the yard again so he can’t see me tearing up. Even after all this time and all we’ve been through, I hurt for him and the future he lost. It must have been like losing a part of him. Being a Marine is all he knew to do. He never would have quit unless it was bad.
“No, not since we came back stateside.” He rubs a hand over his neck. “Anyway. Enough about that. I’m sure Bunny will be fine with it. She’ll probably order you to bed rest.”
“Probably.”
