Cal Lightman glowered up, watching as dark clouds congealed and built toward a thunderhead. Any second the heavens would open and dump its deluge all over him.
Just perfect.
It wasn't even nine o'clock yet and the day was already in the crapper.
He and Emily had gone at it that morning and guilt edged the anger still rumbling inside. She was growing up, sure, but the idea of her going off with a band of other teens to spend a weekend in the Poconos wasn't going to happen. Some part of him knew he was being a little unreasonable but the obstinate part refused to acknowledge. Driving those mountain roads with a seventeen-year-old at the wheel twisted his guts just thinking about it.
And then there was his bloody car.
Cal glanced up at the ominous clouds again, the humidity clinging to him like a cloak. He unfastened the top two buttons of his shirt and pulled down his tie.
His options ranged from shitty to shittier.
Since he'd forgotten to charge his phone the previous night, he could either wait at the car and flag someone down or start hiking.
The air horn of a big rig had him jumping back from the shoulder and stumbling in the loose gravel before righting himself.
Okay. Hiking it was. Beat the possibility of being transformed into a grease spot by a truck.
He shrugged out of his blazer and flipped it over his shoulder. Heat rolled off him in rivulets of sweat and he wondered about the threatening storm. Shouldn't the wind kick up soon and at least cool things down a bit before the rain? Or would it be one of those downpours which kept the temperatures high and spiked the humidity through the stratosphere?
With a glance behind him, he started walking.
Cal hadn't even gotten a hundred yards when the storm hit. No leaky faucet beginning, just a downpour drenching him to the skin in seconds and veiling the world in a perpetual blur.
Marvelous.
He ducked his head down, certain the off-ramp wasn't far beyond. With any luck, he'd stumble upon a gas station or some other semblance of civilization.
He'd left the city behind and entered the long expanse of greenery in between when the old Beemer decided to seize, gasp and cut out on him. He'd been lucky to guide it to the shoulder without dying in the process. The horns blaring at him held no compassion or empathy.
Cal squinting into the rain and continued to slog ahead.
Three-quarters of a mile took him down the off-ramp toward fields stretching toward rolling hills. No gas station. Just a few cows looking at him curiously from beyond a low fence. A moment later they went on with their grazing, tails flicking, oblivious to the rain.
The deluge lessened enough to see but there was nothing to see. The bovine didn't enter the equation. He swung his head in both directions, trying to remember any signage he'd passed, how far it had been and weighing it against the inevitability of businesses the direction he'd been driving.
Clenching his teeth, he made his choice.
It wasn't long before the roar of an engine rivaled by an unbalanced bass passed him and pulled in front.
"Yo! Dude!"
Cal glanced up, the need for a lift or a phone tempering his inherent irritation. The passenger was hanging out the window of a lowered Honda. He was a lanky kid of seventeen or eighteen, his cap propped on his head at a precarious angle.
"Dude! You wanna ride? It's raining, ya know!"
Thanks for the weather report.
"Yeah? Hadn't noticed." Cal responded dryly. It was the only thing dry about him. "Just need a lift to the nearest gas station."
The teen nodded, turned to share a word with the driver before shifting around grinning. "Sure, we could do that."
"Thanks mate." Cal walked toward the little car but the driver hit the accelerator, leaving him in a spray of mud. He could swear he heard them cackling over the high whine of the engine and the low thump of the bass.
Nice. And Emily wanted to go to the mountains with a group of those little plonkers. Fat chance.
His eyes fell to his watch, happy it was water proof. The appointment was behind him by over an hour. He wondered if Gill had received word of his absence. Of course she'd probably assume he'd just blown it off and now sat in a stew of anger and aggravation. It was easy to visualize that look. Normally he enjoyed putting it there but now was not one of those times.
She'd worry too. He smooth brow would crinkle, concern clouding her beautiful eyes…
Cal snapped his mind back and trudged on. The rain was starting to abate but humidity rose up around him in tendrils. His feet squished in his shoes, his clothes clung to him uncomfortably and he could kill for a beer. By the end of the day, he figured he'd be opting for something stronger but at the moment a Guinness on tap sounded divine.
She'd call his cell and her lips would push into a single line when it went straight to voicemail. He liked her lips a lot and tended to let his eyes linger on them probably too much.
He frowned and brought his mind back to the present.
Trudging on, his feet continued to squish inside his shoes but one sock began to bunch under his toes, lending him to favor his right foot and sending him off balance ever so slightly.
Finally the low structure of a building appeared through the drops of rain. Two lone gas pumps in front either brought relief or annoyance depending on how much fuel a driver had in his tank. The prices were set to gouge.
Cal didn't give a crap about that though. He had visions of phones and bottles of water swirling in his head, the Guinness now a distant second. The rain had sluiced away the perspiration but of course hadn't replaced all his lost moisture.
The only vehicles parked in the lot were an aging pickup with a faded George Bush bumper sticker and a boat-like Caprice with one fender rusted through.
He passed by them both and shoved the glass door of the convenience store inward, bells tied to the handle jingling to announce his sudden presence.
A counter ran parallel to the wall to his right, littered with impulse items: caffeine pills, breath mints and condoms with a handwritten sign reminding customers to "Protect their wands and jewels." A bank of cigarette cartons lined the shelves behind the register. The rest of the little store separated into three aisles to the left, converging at the refrigerators situated beyond the back end caps. Cal limped that way, sighing when cold air caressed his face as he pulled a bottle of water from the center fridge.
He returned to the front counter but no one appeared.
"Oi!" Cal flicked his eyes across the emptiness, sodden hackles attempting to rise on the back of his neck.
With the exception of piped-in 80's schmaltz, the store was silent. Kenny Loggins had no listeners besides him and he didn't want to listen to Kenny's crooning.
Maybe it was time to leave. Goosebumps rose against his warm skin as his instincts kicked into overdrive.
He spun around from the register and came face to face with a wide grin and red-rimmed eyes. "Hey shithead."
The man was in his thirties, with dark greasy hair past his ears, pocked cheeks and meth eaten teeth. He pushed a snub-nosed Saturday Night Special into the soft flesh just under Cal's jaw.
You have got to be kidding me.
The junkie reached into Cal's pockets, fumbling for his wallet. He found it with an even wider grin and waved it in front of the older man's nose.
Cal glared, the muscles in his jaw throbbing. He'd just about had it with this sorry ass day and the only thing keeping him from kneeing this guy's balls into next year were the images of Emily and Gillian attending his funeral. His anger lessened, replaced with a dull ache.
The man's eyes were wide and glassy and he pressed the muzzle of the gun harder into Cal's throat.
It wouldn't take much. The tremble of the guy's finger or the nervous tightening of his hand and Cal would be wiped off the planet in a blink. He wouldn't be able to hug Emily and tell her he was sorry. He wouldn't be able to tell Gillian the truth about everything he stubbornly kept inside. Fear and regret fought for top billing.
He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them, not willing to give the junkie the satisfaction.
"Thanks pops." The muzzle pulled away from his flesh before returning with a hearty clunk to his brow.
Cal pitched sideways, putting one hand out to break his fall, sharp pain running from his wrist to his elbow as he connected with the tile. The floor was nice and cool. He blinked wetness from one eye, watching his bottle of water roll under a snack cake rack and observing dimly as tattered Nikes paused by the door, stepped beyond and jogged to the bloated Caprice.
He should have tried to catch the plate number but he didn't give a shit. The floor was surprisingly comfortable. Maybe he'd take a little nap.
No, he couldn't afford the luxury. Besides, his wrist was killing him and there seemed to be some extra pounding beyond what was going on in his head.
With a groan, he pushed into a sitting position, keeping his wrist close to his body. It was already starting to turn funny colors and swell.
Beautiful.
The pounding was louder and he pivoted his head, careful not to move too quickly. There. Somewhere to the back right of the store.
Without any semblance of grace, he used one hand to push himself up and grabbed the edge of the counter to finish the job.
There was a door at the far end of the little store. Probably a storage room or office. He lurched toward it. Yup, the pounding was definitely coming from within and it upped the ante on the ache in his head. "Hold up already!"
He slid the deadbolt back and a pale middle-aged man with a shiny dome pushed through, his body shaking, his face twitching in agitation. "Is that bastard gone?"
"Yeah."
Anger and fear over the robbery ebbed a tiny bit as he stared at Cal.
"Shit, man. Are you okay?"
"I'm bloody fantastic. How about yourself?" Cal thought about laughing. It percolated just below his battered and soggy exterior but he squelched it before it could escape.
The man blinked, obviously trying to decide if he had to deal with some kind of fruitcake right on the heels of being robbed. His expression shifted from wariness to concern and Cal wondered just how awful he looked. It couldn't be as bad as he felt.
Without a word, the gas station attendant took Cal by the arm, wisely avoiding the one attached to the bruised and swelling wrist and guided him behind the counter. He sat him down on the backless stool behind the emptied register. He proceeded to call 911.
Cal wistfully stared off toward the fridges in the back, really wanting a second shot at a bottle of water. The energy didn't summon itself and he stayed put.
He'd said very little, despite the warmth and delight of watching her weave through the ER and come straight toward him. She was a perfect vision. Her radiance pushed back the pervasive aura of pain and illness surrounding her.
On the way to his house, she kept shooting worried glances at him, unsettled by his quiet demeanor.
Cal, on the other hand, used the tiny vacuum as an opportunity to set things straight in his head. That junkie had contemplated pulling the trigger, just for a microsecond, but Cal had caught it. He could have been erased from existence at the nervous twitch of a finger. He could have left this world having lied until the very end.
The thought ripped his insides apart.
Gillian saw it. She saw his anguish. He was too tired to disguise it so it crossed his face like a neon sign.
"Cal?"
"Yeah, luv?"
She didn't ask if he were okay, knowing full well the answer. His crappy day had manifested in a pissed client, blisters, bruising, a trip to the hospital, a cast and a sling. "Did you want anything to eat? I could stop at a drive-thru."
"Sure. Just make an executive decision. I'm open."
She nodded, her eyes clouding with worry in the same way he'd pictured earlier.
Emily's worry and relief pushed her anger to some little corner to be examined later and Cal was glad. He knew the mountain trip would rear its ugly face again within the next month but for now he could get away with relegating the problem to his own little corner.
Her arms were wrapped around his midsection and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I'm fine. Just a day for the books is all."
"Sounds like it." She peeked up at him, teary-eyed and a touch ashamed. "I'm sorry dad. I shouldn't have behaved like a brat this morning."
He kissed her again. "S'okay. I may have overreacted a bit."
"Really?"
"No."
She slapped at him and smiled and he returned it. The smile felt perfect. "Love you Em."
"You too dad." The girl squeezed him again before breaking away. "Have some stuff to do. See you later Gill!" She waved and Gillian smiled. The girl disappeared to her upstairs sanctuary.
"Well, I'll let you get some rest." Gillian grabbed her purse off the coffee table.
They'd dined on cheeseburgers, fries and Cokes and Cal had remained pensive, sitting back and listening to his girls chat. He'd been on the receiving end of more than his fair share of concerned glances but it was okay. His mind had been made up right around the time he noticed the dot of ketchup at the corner of Gillian's mouth and how her tongue had flicked out to grab it.
She'd crossed to the entry and he followed, trying on different tactics in his head but not quite sure which one fit. Maybe it would be best to keep it instinctive. Of course instinctive sometimes ended badly.
"Gill?"
Whirling toward him, she stopped at his proximity, smile flickering, eyes surprised but curious. He'd been silent on his approach.
"Thank you for rescuing me."
Breath rushed out of her nose in a borderline snort. "Of course. I'm just sorry for everything that happened."
"So am I…for the most part."
Her brows drew into a slight frown. "Most part?"
Cal brought his free hand up and cupped her cheek. She didn't step away, her expression soft but still curious. His heart rate kicked up a notch when her lids dipped and she pressed her face further into his palm.
"I'm glad you're alright."
He nodded, realizing he could smell her breath. It carried the aroma of French fries. She was so close. Closer than usual. And she wasn't retreating.
He allowed his instincts to take over for better or worse and his hand crept from the soft flesh of her cheek and circled to the back of her neck to draw her closer.
"Did a lot of thinking today. Mostly inward swearing but later, something clicked."
"And what was that?"
"I…I don't want to do this any longer."
Her frown returned. She would have stepped back if it weren't for his firm but gentle grasp. "What are you talking about?"
His eyes flicked between hers, dropped to her lips, popped back up and smiled at the confusion pulling the delicate muscles in her face. "I'm tired of lying."
She narrowed her eyes. "Is there something I need to know?"
"Yeah, there is."
"Cal, now what did you do?"
He smiled and shook his head. "Nothing yet."
"What are you talking—"
Her question was interrupted when he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. He had a very real moment of terror when she didn't react but it extinguished in the next when she returned the caress, gently moving her mouth with his. It was soft and chaste but beyond anything he could have ever hoped.
He pulled back and saw her lick her lips. A pretty blush rose from under the collar of her top. "Um, uh, does this mean we need to talk?" Her words were spoken almost shyly.
"Who needs to talk?" Heartened, his fingers sifting through her locks and pulled her forward to kiss her a second time. Still gentle but an underlying heat promised. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and eliminate any space between them but had to be content with an oral exploration. His wrist didn't allow for much more. She explored as well, her velvet tongue tracing the ridges inside his mouth, one arm snaking around his shoulders, the other cradling the side of his face.
They broke apart and Cal leaned his forehead against hers, savoring the closeness, never wanting it to end.
"So, what was the lie?" There was a smile in her voice.
"I think you know."
"Do I?"
He let out a long, rattling sigh and little wisps of her hair danced in his periphery. "I refuse to lie to myself any longer."
"Sounds like you've had a breakthrough."
"You could say that." He closed his eyes, fatigue closing in around but he didn't want another day to go by without telling her. "Gill, I just wanted to say that…I love you…and not in just a friendly way, although that's there too. I love you in every sense of the word and if I'm reading this situation right, it's not completely unreciprocated, yeah?"
"Yeah."
Cal jerked back to clearly see her eyes. They were rimmed with tears and her smile was perfection. It lit him up from the inside out and every bit of misery he'd trudged through evaporated like mist. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." She confirmed.
"Guess we should probably still talk though." He pointed out.
"Plenty of time for that." She kissed him a third time but it was a pleasant peck. She took his hand and led him toward the stairs.
It was too good to be true. His mind swirled with all the possibilities the night might bring.
"Cal?"
"Yeah, darlin'?"
"I'm not sleeping with you. I'm just tucking you in before I head home. You look ready to drop over."
"Oh." It came out like a deflating tire and she giggled.
"But I think it would be wise for me to come back and check on you tomorrow. Maybe, if you're up for it, we can talk then."
"Oh, I'll be up for it."
"Very funny."
"Who's laughing?"
She shook her head, guided him to his bedroom, smiled at the hopeful expression still imbedded on his face and wished him a good night.
Cal watched her silhouette leave his room and sighed as he settled into much needed sleep. In that moment before slumber took him, he decided that even the worst possible day can occasionally end on a high note.
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"You okay?" She frowned at him.
"Fine." He squeezed her hand and ran his thumb over the soft skin.
"Sure? You looked a little—"
Turned on? Aroused? Ready to shove Nathan out of the room and rip that form-fitting skirt and blouse open to discover all the prizes inside? "I'm fine." He repeated, despite a pervading light-headedness.
She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head.
Of course she didn't believe him. She knew him too well...