Chapter Twelve
Callum
On their way up to the cabin, they had stopped at a convenience store to buy food. Hot dogs and buns had seemed like a safe choice. The retreat’s electricity had been shut off for years, but they had picked up a cooler and ice, and Callum distinctly remembered his father teaching his brother how to grill hamburgers out behind the cabin, in one of the rare moments when he had stepped away from his work.
Callum hadn’t thought about the fact that no one had used that grill in years, or that humans weren’t the only animals that enjoyed these woods.
Mice, he had thought when he had first seen the nest, but no mouse was the size of the thing that had jumped out at him. Only his reluctance to scare Leila had changed his shriek to a gurgle in the back of his throat at the last minute. In any case, now the grill was on the ground where he had pushed it in his frantic efforts to get the thing away, and even if Callum had any plans of going near it again, cleaning out years of rodent habitation would take more than they had at their disposal.
He stared gloomily down at the package of hot dogs. It looked like the three of them would be eating their dinner cold tonight.
He should break the news to Tom—but he hadn’t seen Tom since the other man had disappeared out the door earlier. And he hadn’t looked like he wanted company. What exactly had Carrie said in that phone call? Callum hadn’t thought it was possible for anything to crack Tom’s composure like that.
It wasn’t Tom’s anger that had surprised him most, though; it was the look of shame on Tom’s face afterward. It couldn’t have just been a reaction to losing control for a moment and breaking a cheap toy car. Something else had gotten under Tom’s skin. Callum wished he knew what it was. If he knew, maybe there was something he could do to make it better. He had never felt the urge to take care of somebody else—he was always the one who needed looking after—but in that moment, he had wanted nothing more than to wrap Tom in his arms and make everything okay.
And Tom had brushed him off with a few words, and walked out the door without looking back.
Footsteps came up behind him, and for a second he thought his thoughts had summoned Tom back. But the steps were too light for that, and sure enough, when he turned around he saw Leila.
“I heard a crash,” she said. “What happened?”
“The grill is out of commission,” he answered apologetically. “We’re having cold hot dogs for dinner.”
Leila shrugged. “I’ve eaten worse.”
“Worse than cold hot dogs?”
“My mom is… forgetful.” She averted her eyes, as if afraid she had said too much.
His own mother had spent the last few years of her marriage trying to drink away the memory of her fights with his father. He was pretty sure he knew what “forgetful” meant. But he didn’t push the subject.
Leila poked at a half-deflated rubber ball. “Is this stuff yours?”
Callum nodded. “I used to come out here as a kid.” He looked around to see if there was anything worth offering to Leila, but everything he saw was either broken or meant for someone much younger. “Sorry we don’t have anything more your style.”
Leila shrugged again. “I just wish I had a book.” She stared at her nails. “I had three books out from the school library, before everything happened. They’re late now.”
“What were you reading?”
“Misty of Chincoteague. And the sequels.”
“You like horses?”
“I guess.”
“You know,” said Callum, “I bet I could find a few books around here for you. I used to have a lot of them around here.”
Callum thought he saw a faint spark of interest cross Leila’s face. “Really?”
“I used to read a lot too.” He thought back to the book he had been reading while he guarded Leila’s door. “Well, I guess I still do. But I used to do it to get away from my parents. My mom drank a lot, before she left, and my dad was…” How to explain his father in a way that Leila would understand? Words failed him, and he offered a shrug that mirrored her own. “He didn’t like me very much,” he finished lamely.
Another flash of interest from Leila, stronger this time.
“You know your dad cares about you, right?” said Callum gently.
“Not enough to ever actually meet me,” Leila replied. “But it’s okay. Really. It’s not as if he ran off after I had already gotten to know him. I’m used to him not being around, and I’m pretty good at taking care of myself.”
“I don’t know what happened between him and your mother. But I’ve seen the way he talks about you. Normally he’s like this peaceful lake that nothing can disturb, but you… you’re his inner fire. When he talks about you, even when he just looks at you, he lights up—with love, with anger at everyone who’s hurt you, with this fierce protectiveness that’s stronger than anything I’ve seen. He’s a good man, Leila, and you’re lucky to have him as your father.”
A rustling of the leaves made him look up. There was Tom, standing by the edge of the cabin, close enough to have heard every word.
In his mind, he replayed what he had said. He heard the tone of blatant admiration in his voice, and the way his own eyes must have lit up. He looked himself from the outside, at how he must have looked when he was giving Leila that speech, and saw a puppy, staring after Tom with big heart eyes and a hanging tongue. He looked away, but that did nothing to stop him from flushing bright red.
When Tom didn’t say anything, Callum stole a glance at him. He looked more centered now than he had when he had left the cabin, more like his usual self. But there was a new distance in his eyes. His face was closed off in a way it hadn’t been before.
Tom looked down at the grill. “What happened?”
“Either the biggest mice I’ve ever seen, or we’ve discovered a new species.” He tried not to let his embarrassment show through in his voice, although his face was still making it more than obvious enough. “Looks like it’s cold hot dogs tonight. Sorry.”
Tom looked out at the trees. “I see plenty of kindling out here. Why not make a fire?”
“In the woods?” To Callum, that seemed like a forest fire waiting to happen.
“Sure. Have you ever been camping? We’ll clear away some of these leaves to make space.” To demonstrate, he bent down and swept away a handful of leaves, revealing the bare earth of the forest floor.
He hadn’t ever been camping, and hadn’t wanted to; as a kid, spending several days at the retreat, with its bugs and its perpetually-cold water and its roof that leaked when it rained, was bad enough. But with Tom here, the image of himself crouched miserably in a sopping-wet tent made way for a vision of the three of them sitting around a crackling fire, smiling and laughing. As night fell around them, Tom’s arm found its way around his shoulders, and…
He shook the images away, hoping Tom couldn’t see what he had been thinking. But a smile still lingered on his face. “We’ll toast the hot dogs on sticks, like marshmallows,” he said, getting into it. “The buns, too.”
“Leila, go grab us some firewood,” said Tom. As she started picking up small sticks, Tom knelt and began clearing away more of the leaves with his hands.
Rather than stand around awkwardly and watch while everyone else made themselves useful, Callum joined him. He swept his hand through the leaves to find the earth below, them grimaced at the film of dirt that came away on his hands. It reminded him again of why camping had never appealed to him. He brought back the image of him and Tom sitting together around a fire, and kept working.
“When did you get back?” he asked, trying to sound casual about it. Maybe there was a chance Tom hadn’t heard what he had said to Leila. Or at least that he hadn’t heard him whining about his parents.
“I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop,” said Tom, which was enough of an answer. “You seemed like you were having a real conversation, and I thought if she knew I was there, she might shut down again.” He had piled a few decent-sized rocks together, and now he began arranging them into a circle. “Thank you for bonding with her like that. There are some things I can’t talk to her about. No matter what I say to her, she’s going to blame me for not being a part of her life, and she’s not entirely wrong.” He paused. “And I suspect you two may share certain experiences that I don’t.”
“I was hoping you hadn’t heard that part,” he admitted.
“That you had shitty parents? I had figured that part out.”
“That I haven’t gotten over them. That I tried to escape into books to get away from them instead of…” Instead of whatever someone stronger would have done. Instead of whatever Tom would have done. “You said you didn’t have the greatest parents either, and look where you ended up. I’ve only just now managed to get away.”
“With my parents, there were circumstances that… well… let’s just say it was a different situation.” A shadow of pain crossed his face for an instant. “Your father, on the other hand, is the type of person who is willing to kidnap and sell children. Whatever problems you had with him growing up, I can guarantee that none of them were your fault. And if you’re right about how far he’s willing to go to get Leila back, I understand why you didn’t leave before now.”
“If I had been different, things would have been fine.” A part of him would rather run through the woods naked than sit here cracking himself open like an egg to show Tom all his weaknesses. But Tom’s words wrapped around him like a pair of strong arms, and it was that feeling of warmth, of safety, that kept him talking. “My brother Alec always got along with my father just fine.”
“Your brother fit in with—” Tom stopped as Leila came back with an armful of firewood. “Right here,” he told her, pointing to the space next to the rock circle.
She let the firewood drop where Tom was pointing. “Do you need any more?” Callum almost thought she sounded a tiny bit less closed off.
Tom had heard it too—the corners of his mouth turned upwards as he answered. “One more load should be enough.”
As Leila headed back into the woods, Tom began arranging the wood inside the circle. “Your brother fit in with your father’s business better,” he finished.
“It’s not like that. Alec isn’t a bad person. He probably didn’t even know about Leila.” But even as Callum said it, a thin strand of doubt threaded its way into his mind. For years, ever since his father had started grooming Alec in earnest to take his place, he had discussed every aspect of his business with him. Why would this be any different?
Callum hastily pushed the thought away. “He’s just… more than me,” he continued. “Stronger. Tougher. More charismatic. My father tried, with me. He tried everything he could think of to make me more like Alec, and to find me a place in the Syndicate. He only gave up after he sent me after someone who had betrayed him, and I couldn’t…” His throat closed.
“He sent you to kill someone?” Tom asked, his voice carefully empty of emotion.
Callum nodded. “I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t strong enough.”
Tom shook his head. “It took a lot more strength to refuse. And you had that strength.”
Callum’s head jerked up in surprise at the note of admiration in Tom’s voice.
Leila came back with another armful of wood. “Thanks,” Tom said as he stacked it beside the careful arrangement of wood he had made inside the circle. “I think that’s enough for now.”
Tom did something Callum couldn’t see, and a flame sprang up in the center of his design. Callum raised his eyebrows. “Did you do the thing where you light the fire by snapping your fingers or something?” he asked, grateful to have something less consequential to talk about. “Are you sure you’re not some kind of super-spy?”
Tom laughed. Callum didn’t think he had ever heard Tom laugh before. The warm sound set him aglow until he didn’t even think they needed the fire anymore. Surely he was generating enough heat all by himself.
“Matches,” said Tom. “I found them in a drawer. And since when is lighting a fire a super-spy skill?”
Callum speared a hot dog with a stick and handed it to Tom. He passed it to Leila, who accepted it with a smile. Tom grinned, and the sight lit up Callum as much as the sound of his laughter had.
He hadn’t realized how different Tom looked when he was truly happy.
Callum skewered his own hot dog and held it over the fire. Those questions could wait. Right now he wanted to enjoy the moment, before reality came crashing down on them again. Because he knew it was only a matter of time.