Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Holy shit. I couldn’t believe I’d said all that. I didn’t even know where it had come from. It was true, and I knew I felt it, but the thought of sharing that with someone had never been there.
“You will,” Callum replied softly.
“You think so?” I found myself asking. Christ, I was embarrassed I’d said that, but I didn’t want to take it back either. I needed to hear that, and for whatever reason, I trusted it coming from him.
“I know so.” He did the hip-nudge thing again. “You’re doing well by him. You’re working hard to change patterns you learned from your dad. You’re making sure your son knows his worth doesn’t depend on doing typically masculine things. My dad would have never done that.”
“I’m sorry,” I replied, not knowing what else to say. “I mean, about your dad. That had to be hard.”
“It’s over now. I don’t have anything to do with him, and I think that’s fine by both of us. You with your dad?”
“He passed away.”
“I’m sorry.”
“We keep saying that to each other.”
“Well, I have one more thing to say: you’re pretty good at this talking thing, Knox. You said you weren’t, and I don’t think you see it, but you are.”
With him. I didn’t know why, but it was easier with Callum. It was as if he’d cast some spell over both me and Logan. “Eh, you’re a good listener, I guess.” I crossed my arms and leaned against the table.
“Now you’re just trying to prove me wrong.” He playfully rolled his eyes. He had the black stuff on those again too. Eyeliner, I thought it was called. “It’s beautiful—the tree. All your work is, but this one especially. You can see the love that went into it. This one is my favorite. I was drawn to it immediately.”
I didn’t know what made me do it, but I picked up the tree and set it in front of him. “Then it’s yours.”
His eyes widened. “What? You can’t do that.”
“I just did.”
“Knox, you can’t—”
“Take it. Please. I insist.”
He looked at me almost as if I were a stranger. Our eyes met. He was only about two or three inches shorter than me, but much leaner. “Thank you, Knox.”
“You’re welcome.”
“As fate would have it, I also have a gift for you. Well, you and Logan, actually. I was feeling a little silly about it, but now I’m not.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded envelope. I took it from him, opened it, as he added, “So maybe it is a little silly, but…I don’t know. You’re an artist. I thought so after I saw the table, but I see it even more now, and Logan is an artist too. I thought this could be something you guys tried together. Please don’t feel obligated if you’re not interested—oh.” He said the last word when I pressed my finger to his lips.
“Shh. It’s not silly. It’s perfect and not something I would have done on my own. Thank you.” My hand dropped. I had no fucking clue where that shit had come from. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t touch any other friend’s mouth that way.
“You’re welcome.” He blinked a few times, licked his lip, then bit the damn thing. He was staring at me with this intense heaviness to his gaze, and I was looking back at him and couldn’t turn away. It was probably weird, us standing there gawking at each other. My brain kept telling me to back up, to look away, that I was being creepy, but I still didn’t move.
“Dad! Callum!” Logan said excitedly.
Callum and I both leaped away from each other like we’d been doing something we shouldn’t have. “What’s up?” I cleared my throat.
“Frankie Blue will bring the ball back if you throw it to her. Come see!”
“Sounds like we have an extra-smart girl,” I said.
We followed Logan out of the barn and around to the back of the house. Callum kept the tree clutched to his chest the whole time.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Callum
“Wait. Why did I want to help with this again?” It was midmorning, and I was in the backyard at Knox’s with him and Logan. It was the weekend after our dinner, when Knox had given me his tree carving, which I still couldn’t believe. It was special to him, that much was obvious, and while he could make another one, it meant something that he’d chosen to give it to me. I tried not to let it mean more than it actually did—friendship, appreciation. I’d never felt more than that from him, except that moment in the barn. When he’d touched my lips and the way he’d looked at me. There had been something in his gaze that was unfamiliar coming from him, something that maybe confused him too, but then I figured I was projecting what I wanted to happen rather than what was happening, and yep, I was totally going to be stupid, falling for a straight guy and getting my heart broken.