Page 53 of Operator
Callum inhales deeply and releases a sigh. “Yeah, it has. I’m glad you came.”
There’s a thick silence where Peyton and I share a relieved glance. The men seem stuck at an impasse where they don’t know how to express their feelings, so I interject to dispel the awkward moment. “Why don’t you all come in? We’ve got a nacho bar and beer.”
“Nachos?” the teen says, brightening a little. “Really?”
“No beer,” Ford warns, and the teen rolls her eyes—the mirror image of Ford.
I laugh. “Right this way. You can help yourself to whatever you want.” I lead her to the kitchen bar where we’ve set up a sort of nacho charcuterie spread. Seasoned meat, six different kinds of cheeses, avocados, tomatoes, guacamole, refried beans, salsa, shredded pork and chicken. Seriously, I think we went a bit overboard, but Callum is indulgent, and I wanted to make a good impression. Plus, I fucking love nachos and breastfeeding makes me want to eat a thousand times a day.
“That’s my niece, Lexie,” Ford says and knocks the teen’s shoulder with his. “She means to say thank you.”
“Thenk few,” Lexie says, already stuffing her face with a chip covered in meat and cheese.
While the men get a couple of beers, Peyton and I gather at the bar and make our plates. She offers to hold the baby while I eat, which I readily accept. Lexie happily stuffs her face and plays on her phone.
“She is just the cutest thing,” Peyton comments, smiling down at a snoozing Violet.
I sip on a virgin strawberry daiquiri and say, “Thank you.”
“Ford was telling me about Ian. I’m sorry to hear about it.” Her tone is kind, and for the first time, I don’t immediately freeze up at the sign of sympathy.
For a long time, I didn’t know how to respond to those sentiments, but I’m shocked to find they don’t hurt as much as they once did. “I appreciate that. It’s been hard, but every day it’s a little easier.”
“I understand exactly what you mean. I lost my parents several years ago pretty violently and it took a lot of therapy, but mostly it took time for me to get to a place where I could deal with it.”
I don’t have many friends, but Peyton’s sunny optimism and candidness immediately endear me to her. “Callum told me about what happened to you, too. I’m glad to hear you’re okay, but seriously. I’d love to pick your brain about how everything happened. We’re going through something similar right now, and I’m trying not to go insane.”
I explain to her about Ian, the note, the surveillance footage, and our suspicions. While I’m talking, I finish my nachos and she passes the baby to me so she can eat. Both she and Lexie listen with rapt attention. To be honest, it’s nice to have someone to talk to about all of these things. What few friends I had in Sweet Creek I pushed away after Ian’s death and then didn’t have time for once Violet was born.
“Girl. I do not envy you right now,” Peyton says when I finish. She slurps down a margarita and shakes her head.
Bouncing Violet, I huff out a laugh. “Ha, well, that doesn’t make me feel any better.”
She waves a perfectly manicured hand, though I spot the slight speckling of paint on her knuckles. “I just mean it sucks and I’m glad you called us. Ford is going to help in any way he can. Frankly, I’m glad they’re finally talking. He’s felt bad about losing touch with Cal and the guys for a long time.”
“He doesn’t shut up about it,” Lexie butts in.
“Shut up, Lex,” Ford calls from the kitchen.
“Well, he doesn’t,” Lexie mutters into her root beer.
“Speaking of. Let’s look at the box I sent you. See if we can put any pieces together,” Ford says in his gravelly voice.
Cal gets to his feet. “Sure, man. I’ll get it.”
He runs to his truck and comes back with a beat-up shipping box. The sticker has Ford’s name on it and Ryan’s as the sender. Cal puts it on the table like an offering and everyone stares at it as though it’s cursed.
“I have to tell you, I’m almost excited to see what’s in there,” Peyton whispers. “That was mean. I only mean I’ve wondered ever since Fordie told me about it.”
“Fordie?” Callum mouths to Ford, who glowers.
“Just open it,” Ford says gruffly.
Even Lexie wanders over from the kitchen to investigate. She stands behind Peyton’s chair, her eyes wide with interest, munching on a stray tortilla chip covered in guacamole. Underneath the table, Callum takes my hand. I glance over at him when I realize it’s shaking. I knew, of course, that this was important to him, but now I realize how important.
For so long, I thought things didn’t affect him. That he did what he wanted and fuck everyone else. It finally hits me that I was wrong. That simply isn’t true. Callum cares…deeply. Maybe he cares so much that it’s easier for him to run away than to face what he’s feeling.
I don’t have much time to consider the thought and process howIfeel about it when Ford takes out a pocketknife and cuts into the tape Cal must have put on it to protect its contents. You can cut the tension in the air with that knife. Ford opens the flaps and we all peer over the top to see what’s inside.
