I planted my hands on my hips. “Can you just be real with me? For one damn minute?”
“You first.”
Well, fuck. I didn’t have anything to say to that. How could I be real with her when I wasn’t even real with myself?
So I stayed quiet.
And she retreated, shaking her head and stepping to the lawn. “That’s what I thought. Go away, Stark.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
NELLIE
“It’s weird to be in the office.” Pierce spun his chair toward the windows behind his desk, rubbing a hand over his bearded face. “It’s so quiet. I keep waiting to hear the baby cry.”
“What are Kerrigan and the kids doing today?” I asked, closing my laptop that I’d brought in for our meeting.
“She took them to the park this morning before it got too hot.” He swiped his phone from the desk and pulled up a photo, handing it over.
Constance was in her stroller, a sun hat shielding her precious face. Elias, also in a hat, stood proudly beside his sister wearing a huge, big-brother smile.
My emotions swirled like the fresh cream I poured into my morning coffee. Happiness. Envy. Pride. Desire. And a pinch of loss. Because as the years passed, I wondered more and more if I’d missed my chance for a family of my own. That story might not be in the cards I’d been dealt.
There’d be no smiling photos of children on my phone.
“I’ve been thinking about getting a cat.” I handed Pierce his phone. “Maybe two.”
He gave me a sideways glance. “You don’t like cats.”
“I don’t like your cat. She’s a demon.”
“This is true.” He kicked an ankle over his knee. “What else is going on?”
“Not much.” I shrugged. “I think we’re pretty well caught up.”
“How’s Kathryn working out?”
“So far so good.” I’d hired a twenty-two-year-old recent college grad as my assistant. “She’s smart. Hardworking. I think she’ll be a good fit.”
Kathryn had grown up in Calamity, and after graduating this past spring, she’d moved home to be close to her family. She was as eager as she was smiley. Every task I’d given her she’d tackled with enthusiasm and a litany of questions. But her best trait? She wasn’t a football fan.
During her interview, when I’d mentioned that Pierce had a few famous friends, like Cal Stark, and she’d need to be discreet, she’d been clueless about who he was. Kathryn preferred sewing to sports. She’d already promised me a quilt for Christmas.
It had been three days since Cal had jogged by my house, dripping with sweat. His shirt had clung to his pecs and abs, and it had taken every ounce of willpower not to invite him inside for a shower.
But I’d asked him for distance and firmly believed it had been the right choice. The less time we spent together, the less time I’d crave him. The less time I’d wonder what he was doing, where he was spending his days, and who he was spending them with.
Like I’d told him this past weekend, I hated that he was constantly on my mind.
This tell me what you hate about me gimmick needed to stop because each time I confessed, I gave away too much.
Why did he care? Why was he so worried about my opinion? Was it his retirement? Was there something happening personally? There was only one person who Cal would confide in willingly. Lucky for me, he was sitting four feet away.
“Can I ask you something, off topic?” I asked Pierce.
He nodded. “Of course.”
“Have you noticed anything strange with Cal? Or stranger than his usual brand of strange?”
“No. Why?”
Because I was worried about him. “I’ve bumped into him a few times lately. He’s been acting . . . off.”
“What do you mean?” Pierce sat straighter, the concern for his friend etched on his face.
“Well, he’s living in a camper, for one.”
“Yeah, but that’s just until he gets his house built on the ranch he bought.”
A ranch Cal hadn’t mentioned to me, not even at our non-date dinner date. No, I’d heard about his ranch at my last girls’ night out at the brewery. Cal’s builder had stopped by our table to say hello to Larke, and she’d asked him about his project lineup. The moment he’d dropped Cal’s name, I’d perked up and shamelessly eavesdropped.
“Personally, I think the Winnebago is hilarious.” Pierce laughed. “Leave it to Cal to decide that buying or renting was too much of a hassle, so he rents someone else’s RV. Yes, it’s strange considering he could afford any property in Calamity. But if you think about it . . . it makes sense.”
“It does?” Because it really didn’t.
“Cal likes to give everyone the impression that he’s not into commitment, but look at his life. It’s been solely focused on football. His career has been his one and only priority. And he just walked away. Cal commits. When he does, it’s for the long haul. So he chooses his commitments carefully.”
Like his friendship with Pierce. And in the absence of wanting to commit to a house, he’d rented a Winnebago.
“Those poor people will lose their camper when he burns it to the ground,” I muttered. “Then he’ll probably blame it on the owners and slap them with a lawsuit.”
Did I actually believe those statements? No. But Pierce was giving me an odd look, like maybe he’d heard the genuine concern for Cal in my voice. Like he saw the feelings I was trying my hardest to hide and ignore.
A sassy comment seemed necessary. And for good measure, I tacked on another. “If he can’t even be nice to kids in wheelchairs, there’s no hope that he treats those motel owners the right way.”
“Huh?” Pierce’s forehead furrowed. “What kid in a wheelchair?”
“His last game. The Super Bowl. Remember there was that kid in the wheelchair from the Make-A-Wish Foundation. He was next to Cal during a post-game interview, and Cal had the game ball. He should have given it to the kid instead of keeping it for his own trophy case.”
“He did give him that ball.”
“No, he didn’t.” I remembered watching him walk away from the cameras, the ball firmly tucked under an arm.
Pierce shook his head. “He took the ball to the locker room and had the entire team sign it along with a team jersey. And no one knows this but Cal let it slip one day. I guess the kid’s parents were struggling financially, so Cal paid for them to take a vacation to Disney World right before the boy died. Trip-of-a-lifetime sort of deal. Then he covered their medical bills. He even went to the kid’s funeral.”
“What?” The boy had died? My heart cracked and my eyes flooded. That poor family. Why hadn’t Cal told me the day I’d mentioned that boy? Why would he do all of that for a family of strangers? My soul ached for that boy’s parents. And it ached for Cal.
“I heard an announcer say once that no quarterback was as good at the fake handoff as Cal,” Pierce said. “I thought that was fitting because he’s a pro at faking his life too. He shows the parts that he wants the world to see.”