At Peace (The 'Burg #2)(104)

He was sitting in the dark, in his living room, in his father’s chair with a bottle of bourbon, a glass half full in his hand when he heard the sliding glass door open.

He’d been home an hour. It took longer than he expected for her to come over.

She slid the door closed and stood at it, her back against the glass, a shadow silhouetted by the moonlight. He didn’t know how she knew he was sitting there. He’d never been sitting in his living room when she came over then again he usually met her at the door. But she knew.

“Did you f**k her?” she whispered.

“None of your business, buddy,” Cal forced himself to say.

“You don’t use protection with me, Cal, so yeah it is. Did you f**k her?”

He didn’t hear any words after she called him Cal. His body had frozen, his mind had blanked.

“I asked you a question,” she prompted, still whispering.

“You want this scene then yeah, I f**ked her, Vi,” he lied.

She was silent.

He knew she’d hate it when he reminded her softly, “You don’t get to do this, buddy, this isn’t what we have.”

“I know about Nicky.”

It took everything he had not to surge to his feet.

“Come again?” he asked only after he unclenched his teeth.

“I know about your son, Nicky, your Dad. I know about Bonnie. I know everything.”

Cal swallowed the acid taste burning his tongue then he said, “Everyone knows. It isn’t a secret, Vi.”

“You’re empty.”

He stared at her silhouette. How she knew that, he had no f**king clue but she wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“Nothing can fill you up,” she stated.

“Nope,” he agreed again.

“You won’t let it.”

“Barrel’s got a hole in the bottom, buddy, everything leaks out no matter how much you pour in.”

She was silent a moment then she whispered, “Right.”

She turned to the door and his hand gripped his bourbon so hard he had to focus everything on loosening his grip or the glass would shatter.

Before she opened it, she turned back. “You don’t know, Cal, you have no idea. You’ve shut yourself up for so long in this f**king house with your tragic memories, you have no idea what’s about to walk out your door. Kate, Keira and me, we could have plugged that hole. We could have filled you so full, you’d be bursting. We would have loved that chance. We’d have given it everything we had, no matter the time that slid by, graduations, weddings, grandbabies, you’d have been a part of us and we’d have given everything we had to keep you so full, you’d be bursting.”

Cal didn’t reply.

“Joe,” she whispered, “you let me walk out this door, you’ll lose your chance.”

Cal didn’t move.

Vi waited.

Cal stayed seated.

Vi slid open the door, walked through and slid it to. He didn’t hear her calmly walking across his deck to the steps, he heard her running.

When he heard that, the glass shattered in his hand.

Chapter Thirteen

The Beginning

It was bad timing. Then again, it was never good timing for shit like that.

Never.

Ever.

But this was different. This was the worst.

Because Cal was home.

He had been home once in the last two and a half months. Once, for a night, gone the next day. I hated myself, but I’d looked. I always looked to his drive, even through the windows, a million times a day at first. I was getting better, bucking the habit. Now I only looked when I drove home, or drove away, or got in or out of the car. Progress.

Though I wore his t-shirts to bed every night. I knew I shouldn’t, I kicked myself every time I pulled one over my head. I just couldn’t stop.

The gifts had been coming; Colt and Mike had been dealing with them. Cal wasn’t around to care. Not that he would have cared if he was around, but he wasn’t around.

It wasn’t regular or steady but the girls knew about the gifts now. Keira had found the next one to come which was two days after the end of Cal and me. A Tuesday, another first. I didn’t know what was in them and Mike and Colt didn’t share. They told me they were keeping in close contact with Tim’s partner Barry in Chicago and they also told me they’d ordered cruisers to cruise our street randomly, which they did. It wasn’t the same safety I felt when Cal was in my house, in my bed or even next door, but it made me feel a little better.

I didn’t care much either. Let him send gifts. Whatever. I had a life to lead. That was hard enough. Fuck Daniel Hart.

The girls had taken Cal’s exit from our lives as I knew they would and I kicked myself, hourly at first then daily, for wrapping them up in that shit.

Just so I could have good sex, just so I could get off. A booty call. I’d hurt my girls for a booty call. Cal said it wasn’t that but it was. It was exactly that.

They didn’t know the extent of it and I tried to act normal and hide from them how it cut me to the quick, not as bad as I suspected, no, even worse, far worse, him being gone. But they were my girls, they felt deep, they sensed things, they knew me and I knew they knew something big had happened and it involved Cal.

At their accurate assessment of the situation, they rallied around their mother.