Goddess Page 7

  I sipped the cooling coffee before me and contemplated what the hell was going on. “Hi, Ginger.” An idea occurred. “Are you here to pitch Dad’s alma mater?” His old school had a decent swim program, but I hadn’t applied out of sheer spite, and it was late in the year to do it now. Unless Ginger was my “in.”

  “I’m sorry?” Her sculpted eyebrows lifted expertly styled bangs.

  Dad looked shocked. Anxiety prickled through his jovial mode. “Ginger isn’t from any college.”

  “So, where’s she from?” I straightened in my chair, forgetting myself for a second. I had no idea who she was. I needed my meeting-new-people face awhile longer.

  “I’m from Poughkeepsie.” Her itty-bitty baby voice stabbed my soul.

  My stomach knotted and my voice wobbled. “Ginger from Poughkeepsie.” I clutched the table to keep from overturning it. This was the pill-pushing pharmaceutical rep Dad had jumped in bed with, the woman worth ruining twenty-three years of marriage and breaking up our family. The amber glow of my eyes reflected in Ginger’s water glass. I squeezed them shut and inhaled. Humans wouldn’t notice. They wouldn’t see. Calm down, Callie. I opened my eyes. “We aren’t here to talk about college.”

  “No.” Dad fiddled with his tie. “We can if you’d like.” The flimsy bit of hope in his voice was weaker than his promises. “Don’t be angry. This wasn’t supposed to go this way.”

  I laughed. My knuckles turned white on the table’s edge. “I wasn’t supposed to be shocked by your ambush? Did you think inviting me to the club to meet your mistress was somehow a good idea? You haven’t talked to me in months.” I rubbed nerve-slicked palms against both thighs under the table and stretched my aching fingers.

  “We were giving you time.”

  I bobbed my head, unable to form words fit for public declaration. “Who is ‘we’ and do you even care that she’s married?” I pointed to her gargantuan wedding ring. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice that rock. I mean, what are you thinking? She lives in New York and you hook up on weekends, wreck our family, ignore me for months, then invite me to lunch. With her.” I grabbed my phone. “I can’t even.”

  I texted Justin. “9-1-1”

  Dad slid his hand across the tablecloth and linked with Ginger’s. Her tiny blue eyes brimmed with tears. My chest constricted like a heart attack. Could I have a heart attack? Was he seriously comforting her right now when his daughter was on the edge of losing her shit in the clubhouse dining room?

  “Ginger’s not married and she doesn’t live in New York. Not anymore. She and I are engaged. This is the ring I bought her. We’re getting married in the spring, and we’d like it very much if you’d be okay with that. You don’t have to love it. You don’t have to be a bridesmaid or anything that’d make you feel like you’re betraying your mom. We just want to start this marriage with the air clear and no hard feelings. We’re asking for your blessing.”

  I swallowed a bubble of vomit.

  The gentle clanging of silverware and china filled my head. Voices became one loud mumble of nonsense. I exhaled slowly to settle my senses.

  Justin’s thick Southern drawl arrived seconds before his shadow. “Hey there, Mr. I.”

  I twisted in my seat searching for him. My refuge.

  He tipped his hat to Ginger. “Miss.”

  She blushed on cue, and I was thankful, for her sake, my new eyes didn’t have laser beams. Being a pacifist was hard.

  Dad stood and extended a hand to Justin. Their differences were endless, both outwardly and not. “Hello, Justin. I can’t say I’m surprised to see you. Callie made what I assume was an emergency text at least thirty seconds ago.”

  “Really?” I snapped, balling my napkin into something I could throw or stuff into his mouth.

  Dad lifted and dropped one shoulder. “I guess it was a tossup. Where’s the boyfriend?”

  Justin dropped Dad’s hand with a flick and took mine. “Come on, Callie.”

  Dad’s face grew grim. “We’re not done talking.”

  I tossed the napkin and latched both hands in Justin’s. “Wrong.”

  “Don’t you dare walk away from me, Calypso Ingram. I’m still your father whether you want to accept it or not.”

  I stopped and glared. Really? Really?

  He sat on a long exasperated sigh. “I’m sorry.”

  Curiosity got me. “For what?” Of the growing list of possibilities. What would he acknowledge?

  “I did this all wrong. I see that now. And for pulling the Dad Card. I know you aren’t a kid anymore. I’m a desperate man.”

  Ginger rubbed his back and whispered something near his ear. He gave her an apologetic smile.

  Dammit.

  I inched in their direction. “I was kind of a brat.” It seemed like the right thing to say.

  “S’okay.” Ginger smiled through quivering lips. “I understand. I told him you’d feel this way.”

  “She did.” Dad patted her hand.

  I turned to Justin. What now?

  “Your call, cowgirl.”

  “Dad.” I couldn’t keep my eyes on him, so I spoke the words to Justin. “Give me time to process?”

  He stood. “Absolutely. Call me whenever you’re ready. Maybe you and Ginger could go to the spa and get to know one another.”

  “Maybe.” Not really. Not ever. I pulled Justin through the dining room and didn’t stop until we were inside his Jeep.

  He gunned the engine to life and smacked the steering wheel. “Holy shit! What the hell was that?”

  “That was Ginger from Poughkeepsie.”

  “Fuckin’ A.”

  “Yep.”

  Justin parked in his field. It was too cold to sit outside the way I liked, but we were still surrounded by dying weeds and fallen leaves. Warm air blowing through the vents circulated Justin’s cologne and a hint of vanilla from a candle I’d left in his cup holder this summer. The silhouette of his barn stood tall and strong against the backdrop of a setting sun. I released my seat belt and tilted the seat back. “My dad’s getting married in the spring and he wants my blessing.” I rolled my head against the headrest until Justin’s blue eyes came into view, steady and strong, wholly focused on me.

  “I’m not like your dad. I’ve never cheated on anyone. I never would. When I make promises, they’re forever. My time’ll run out on this earth before my word expires.”

  Cowboy code. I blinked back tears. “I know.”

  “Don’t forget it.”

  I swiped the pads of both thumbs under my eyes. “Anything else?”

  He shifted in his seat, cocking a knee between us. “Yeah. Your dad’s in your life by chance. I’m here by choice.”

  “Kinda how adoption works. Too bad he didn’t choose to stay.”

  “Too bad for him, but I will always choose to stay.” He flipped his hat onto the backseat and reclined beside me. “Until I’m not what’s best for you, I will always stay. If I live to be one hundred, I will still be right here.”

  My throat tightened. He might live to be one hundred, but I’d be eighteen forever. Justin would grow old. He’d become a father and a grandfather. One day he’d die.

  A flash of lightning exploded across the sky.

  He huffed. “We’re having the weirdest weather.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Callie?”

  I swiped a renegade tear from my cheek. “Yeah?”

  “Hey. Look. I’m not complaining or anything, but why didn’t you call Liam to rescue you?” A measure of hope filtered through the air.

  My tummy knotted. It was a good question. Could I count on him the way I could count on Justin? Did Liam understand me? Value my opinions? Believe I was strong? Justin always saw more in me than was truly there. Lately, it seemed Liam didn’t see me at all. He was gone. Again. No explanation. No discussion. He’d promised me no more secrets. That we’d talk things through together from now on. “Things with Lia
m are a mess.”

  “Come here.” Justin stretched an arm across the space between us and pulled me closer. I leaned my head toward his and cursed the console between us. A suffocating sadness and pocket of love settled over me, crushing my lungs, and breaking my heart.

  “Thanks for always being here for me.”

  He pressed his cheek against my head. “Where else would I be?”

  Chapter 6

  First morning walks with Chester were drama. He always wanted a longer walk. I had places to be. Chester lost. I lifted his muzzle in one hand and looked into his eyes, half-hidden behind shaggy white hair. “See you after school. Mom will be here in a couple hours. Be good. Guard the house.”

  “Woof.”

  I fanned doggy breath from my face. “You’re supposed to have a sixth sense about things, but the Hales and Tom have never bothered you. The Hales might use their influence on you, but not Tom. Does influence work on animals?”

  What about me? Did he see I’d changed?

  Chester shook from head to tail and lapped the side of my head with his sticky tongue.

  I hoisted my school bag over the sloppy bun I’d perfected and secured it cross body. I slung a gym bag over one shoulder. “Later, Chester.”

  The front door was stiff from the cold. I wiggled the knob before it turned with a grudge. Tom rocked in the porch swing with a morning paper in one massive fist. “I met the paperboy.”

  I locked the door behind me and double-checked the knob. “That probably scared him half to death.”

  Tom rolled onto his feet, towering over me instantly. “Children like me.”

  “Maybe, but most porches don’t have anyone on them before dawn, especially not people who don’t live inside.”

  “Are you asking me to move in?”

  “What? No.”

  He laughed. “Liam thinks you’re better served if I stay hidden along the perimeter as a first line of defense, but I’m open to moving in.”

  I snagged the paper from him and tossed it onto our welcome mat for Mom. “I am not asking you to move in. I’m saying the paperboy probably thought you were a burglar.”

  “In a porch swing? I’d be the world’s worst, wouldn’t I? Where are you going?”

  “Crazy.”

  Tom hustled off the porch and fell into step beside me on the sidewalk. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s nothing. A play on words. My mom says it sometimes.”

  He wiggled the gym bag off my shoulder and hiked it onto his. “You’re close with your mother. She adores you, I think.” He opened the door to Hale Manor and led me to the training area in the basement. “You love a lot of people.”

  I set my school bag aside and shed the extra layers of clothing. “I do.”

  “That must be exhausting.” He balanced different weapons in his hand, air attacking an invisible foe with some, posturing with others.

  “It’s worth it.” I dropped onto the mats and extended both legs. Gooseflesh rose on my exposed skin. The basement was cooler than the rest of the manor by design. Before Vikings trained there, it was a root cellar. Geothermal refrigeration at its finest. I’d be thankful for the lower temperatures in thirty minutes when my limbs shook from exhaustion and sweat streamed into my eyes.

  Tom extended a hand to me, hoisting me to my feet. “I’ve only ever cared about my brothers.” He passed me the brontosaur-sized shield.

  I concentrated on the conversation, forcing my thoughts to the friend in front of me and away from the sword on the wall. My sword. “What about when you were human? You must’ve loved other people back then.”

  He perused a line of weapons balanced on benches and hanging from custom wall pegs. What would he attack me with? Decisions. Decisions. “My human life was so long ago I barely remember.” He moved onto the mat with a pint-sized wooden dagger.

  “You’re lying.”

  “Am not.”

  I lifted my shield. “You are. I can sense it. Your emotions are jumbled. Guilt. Hope. Longing.”

  “Perhaps I long to show Oliver how to properly train a warrior.” His smile revealed the truth in that statement.

  “Good luck with that.”

  He pointed the little dagger. “Good luck to you.”

  The defensive moves came back easily. For Tom’s every attack, I made a successful dodge or retreat. My limbs moved on autopilot, like muscle memory relied on by dancers performing the same show for the hundredth time.

  “You’re getting stronger. Faster, too.” Pride lifted his voice. “World’s Worst Burglar becomes World’s Best Trainer. A title change I can live with.”

  We circled for an hour, interlacing defense drills with bouts of jump roping and rounds on the heavy bag. Thanks to the creeping sensation Zeus would ask me to battle soon, my mind turned relentlessly to one thing. My attention jumped to the sword on the wall.

  Tom steadied the heavy bag and helped pull my gloves off. “What happened with your dad at the clubhouse?”

  I swiped my water bottle from the bench and squirted it at my face. I caught some in my mouth. The rest sizzled into steam off my exhausted body. “Catastrophic nightmare.”

  “You called Justin.”

  He’d followed me. Of course. “You must get sick of following me around. I’m really sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be. I do well with purpose. You’re the best purpose I’ve had in a hundred years.”

  “Wow. So, before me, your life must’ve sucked.”

  A small grin graced his face. “It did.”

  Wait. “Did you say a hundred years? Does that mean you’re only a hundred years old, or you’re older but haven’t had a decent gig in a hundred years?”

  “I’m one hundred fifteen. I died in the Finnish Civil War of nineteen eighteen. The Watchers collected me from the tents where the wounded were taken. They were there before my death and they waited for me and directed me to the Mahonings after. My brothers were a bit of a renegade bunch back then, especially Lars. They’d been together a long while, living without direction. The Hales thought I might give them balance.”

  My ears rang in the silence while I processed. He’d died in battle once already. Then again, hadn’t I?

  The shock on Tom’s face jerked me back to life. He stepped away. “Are you sure? I’m fine with another round of defense drills.”

  “What?” Heat pooled in my palms, drawing up my arms like a straw to my chest. A glint of silver drew my attention to the delicious weight in my hands. The sword from the wall was in my grasp. Had I asked for it? I moved my hands slowly in an arc, appreciating the sword’s beauty, sleek motion, and zip of power.

  Tom lifted my shield until only his eyes and hair were visible. “Callie? Can you hear me?” He walked the training room’s perimeter, keeping his distance and carrying the shield protectively at his chest.

  Panic beat through me. “I don’t remember asking for this.”

  “You didn’t. You looked at it and it came to you. I assumed you called it.”

  The words formed on my lips and hung there, unwilling to be spoken, but necessary and true. “I’m not ready.” The sword fled from me. Back to the wall. As if I hadn’t touched it.

  My shield clanged against the floor. Tom jogged to my side and stared wide-eyed at me. “That was the number one wildest thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen some things.”

  “I didn’t know I called it.”

  He looped an arm over my shoulders and rested his cheek on my head. “You didn’t, Callie. Not with words.”

  “I liked it.”

  “Good.” He jostled me against him. “She’s yours and you’re hers. Seeing you together was fantastic.”

  I pulled back. “You just said it was the wildest thing you’ve ever seen.”

  He dropped his arm and smiled as if he’d won the lottery. “You were fierce. It was wild and fantastic. Except when you stopped answering me and I thought you might
get confused and kill me.” He ran a finger across his throat. “Your eyes lit up like the sun, as gold as embers.”

  “Ex-cuse me?”

  He pressed his palms together in prayer. “Like a glorious avenging angel.”

  “Oh, hell no.” I grabbed my towel and marched up the steps to the shower.

  * * * *

  Allison pounded her feet against the floor under the lunch table. “I accepted his date and he kissed my hand. It was so romantic. He’d better text me the minute he gets back to town. Where do you think we’ll go?”

  Justin sucked down the remains of his water, collapsing the bottle as he drank. “What is it with you girls and the Hale brothers?”

  She scoffed. “Destiny.”

  “Right.” He poised his hands overhead and shot the empty bottle into the recycle bin with zero effort. “What do you think, Tom?”

  Tom looked to me for advice. I shrugged.

  He looked at Justin for a long beat before answering. “They seem all right. I thought you were friends.”

  “We are.” Justin stretched his legs under the table and leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know what my problem is today. I keep seeing the glass half-empty.” Fresh bruises lined the exposed underside of his arm when he stretched. His winning ride at the rodeo Saturday was rougher than he’d admitted.

  Tom scanned the lunch table, probably for a glass.

  I pressed a hand to my chest in mock shock. “Are you telling us Justin Maze, the Rodeo Romeo, is having a bad day? I think Hell just froze over.”

  His smile made me laugh. “Don’t laugh. It might have. Did you notice the weather? Below zero in November. It’s like Antarctica out there.” He cringed. “See what I mean? Negativity. I’m going home to take a nap or a long ride before I forget how to say anything positive.”

  Tom motioned to the glass doors. Bare tree branches swayed against an ominous gray sky. “Can’t take the horse out in this.”

  “Shit.” Justin let his head fall forward onto the table.

  A girl’s laugh boomed in the cafeteria behind me and I cringed. Through the voices, chaos, and trays banging, her laugh managed to screech though my head like a shiv.