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N.R.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CAL
Nellie’s diary had snuck its way out of my car’s backseat and into my daily routine. Somehow I needed to take it back to her house. But considering she’d asked for distance after our night together two weeks ago, there hadn’t been the chance to return it. That, and I’d skipped town again.
I’d spent the past two weeks in California simply to avoid Nellie. Though considering her diary had come along on the trip, there’d been no escaping her.
The entry about her backpack was open on my lap as I sat in my chair outside the camper.
Did Nellie still talk to Sareena? She’d been another scholarship kid at Benton. I’d forgotten about her until reading Nellie’s diary.
Sareena had styled her black hair with these choppy layers. It used to hang in her face, and I’d always wondered how the hell she could see as she’d walked. Or maybe she’d purposefully styled it that way in an attempt to hide.
She and Nellie had stuck together like glue our senior year, but I hadn’t realized they’d been so close as freshmen. Mostly, I remembered seeing Nellie alone that year.
That’s how she’d been that day her backpack had broken. She’d been on her hands and knees, scrambling to pick up her things. The hallway had been crowded with people but she’d been alone.
It was the reason I’d stopped to help. Because I’d been able to relate. I probably should have just kept walking. I really should have kept my mouth shut when we’d walked into class.
Some of the shit that used to come out of my mouth had been grade-A jackass. I’d sounded a lot like my father. And damn, I wished I could say it had stopped decades ago.
I wished our similarities ended in the mirror.
But I’d said rude shit for years and doubted that would ever change. If it popped into my head, it often came spewing out of my mouth. Hence the reason I wouldn’t be doing that fundraiser speech at Benton. And why I wouldn’t be commenting on football games.
If a player fucked up, I’d say they fucked up. If a coach made a bad play call, I’d be the first to point out his mistake. If a referee made a judgment error, I’d go for the kill.
I had enough enemies. I didn’t need to add others to that list.
The crunch of shoes on gravel caught my ear, and I slammed Nellie’s journal closed, stuffing it behind my back.
Harry rounded the corner of the motel, and instead of heading to her house, she changed directions when she spotted me. “Well, look who’s come out of hiding.”
“Not hiding. Just back in town.”
“Another trip? I wondered if you were gone.” She came to her chair, sitting with a slight grimace.
“Knees or back?” I asked.
“Knees.”
“It’s my back that hurts.” I shifted and stretched out my legs. This morning I’d woken up and dressed in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt for a workout, but instead I’d putzed around the RV, cleaning up and unpacking the bag from my trip.
Then when I’d finally come outside, I’d decided to read Nellie’s diary while there was shade in this spot. I’d run in the heat later and work up a decent sweat.
“Supposed to be hot today,” I said, gesturing to her cuffed Wranglers and long-sleeved tee.
“What did I tell you about discussing the weather?”
I chuckled. “Sorry.”
“Where’d you go this time?” Harry asked. “Bozeman again?”
“Big Sur. Rented a house and spent a couple weeks beside the ocean.”
“California,” she said. “I went to LA once when I was in my twenties. Decided then and there I didn’t need to go back.”
“I’m not much for LA myself. Too many people. But I do love the ocean. I probably would have stayed another week or two, but I’ve got a meeting with my architect tomorrow to go over some details about my house.”
The initial plans had been drafted and sent to the county for a building permit. With any luck, they’d be approved soon and my contractor could break ground at the ranch.
If I decided to stay.
I was done fooling myself that living this close to Nellie wasn’t hazardous for my health.
Pierce and Kerrigan had invited me to their place for Independence Day last week. They were returning to a more normal routine now that Constance was out of the newborn phase—whatever that meant. They’d wanted to host a barbeque and invite some friends.
Rather than show up and risk a fight with Nellie, I’d lied and extended my vacation plans.
A month ago, a year ago, I would have gone because of Nellie. I would have picked a fight just to rile her up before we snuck off for a quickie. But God, I was tired of fighting with her. Maybe because after that dinner two weeks ago, I knew what it was like to laugh with her instead.
I’d been missing out.
“Did you visit friends in Big Sur?” Harry asked.
“No.”
“So you went alone?”
I shrugged. “Yeah.”
“That’s depressing.”
She wasn’t wrong. Still, I shot her a frown. “I’m going through a transition right now. Needed to escape.”
“A transition.” She scoffed. “To what?”
“Retirement.”
Harry blinked, then threw her head back and laughed to the cloudless blue sky.
“Hey. I’m mourning the loss of my career.”
“By taking vacations alone and becoming a recluse in my daughter’s Winnebago?”
“I’m not a recluse,” I muttered. “I went to the grocery store yesterday after I got back.”
“And I’m guessing you were the last customer, shopping a minute before they closed just to avoid other people.”
It hadn’t taken her long to get a read on me, had it? “Is there a point to this harassment?”
“Yep.”
I waited for her to deliver said point, but she simply stared at me. Harry’s scrutiny went on so long that I started to squirm, finally caving and dropping my eyes to my tennis shoes. That withering stare of hers reminded me a lot of Nellie.
Nellie, who I had thought of constantly for two weeks. Nellie, who’d kept me company with this old diary. Nellie, who had no idea how much it had hurt when she’d asked me to stay away.
“Who are you, Cal?”
“Good question, Harry.”
“What do people say about you?”
Easy answer. “That I’m an asshole.”
“Are you?”
“Some days.” I had the diary to prove it.
“Why are you an asshole?”
I huffed. “We don’t have time to get into that question. Sun’s rising. Like I said, it’s gonna be a hot one.” And this was not a conversation I wanted to have.
Harry stood and motioned for me to follow. “Come on.”
I debated telling her no, but I suspected that wouldn’t be an option. So I let her take a few steps to get a head start, far enough away that she wouldn’t notice the journal when I stood. Then I walked behind her as she led the way to her house.
It was cool as we stepped indoors. The shades were drawn and she must have opened the windows last night to let in the breeze. I’d done the same in the camper.