Page 107 of Things Left Unsaid

“I call her Ida.”

“I can’t call her that. She’s Mrs. Abelman to me. Has Callan shown you around the place at least?”

“To his favorite den so we can play games.” As I step onto the first floor, I murmur, “I thought you might have given me the tour.”

“Why would I do that? I’m not going to force my presence on you when you don’t want it, Zee,” he dismisses, making me feel bad, but then he thought I killed his horse…

Bad is relative.

I don’t answer because I have no idea how to, so, in silence, we meander along a hall that I didn’t know was here and he guides me into an office.

Much like the rest of the house, it’s massive.

Bigger than my bedroom, even.

It’s also not to Colton’s style.

I might not have spoken to the man in a decade, but this is too dark and dour for his taste. The walls are paneled in a rich redwood and his desk matches. There are no pictures, only paintings of landscapes. The desk itself has a large screen on it and a keyboard.

It’s surprisingly neat.

Very boring.

And so shadow-filled that the overhead light doesn’t make a dent in the inherent gloom.

Though the room doesn’t suit him, he’s at ease in it. Which tells me he’s been using Clyde’s office as his own for a long time, longer than he’s been sleeping in Clyde’s suite.

The family politics shouldn’t interest me but they do.

It’s complicated, okay?!

Speaking of family—there’s a large picture on a bookcase shelf. Something tells me that Colt put it there, not Clyde. While there are no other trinkets that are related to the man having sons, Colt’s not in-frame so I figure he took it.

Wearing a back-to-front cap, Cole’s grinning at the camera, his arms slung around a uniformed Cody and a miniature Callan who’s more scowl than anything else.

It does a great job of highlighting each brother’s unique personality.

Cole’s always been exuberant—he made every teacher’s life hell, so much so they were glad when he got billeted in another province—Callan’s brooding but at peace because he’s with his brothers, and Cody looks like the world is resting on his shoulders. It’s a trait he shares with Colt, but it’s different. How couldn’t it be when he’s in active service?

Then, right beside it, I squint at a piece of cardboard that’s in a frame. Bending down to get a better look at it, I realize it’s a baseball card—Honus Wagner. Whoever the hell he is. Still, must be important if it’s next to the picture of the boys.

Colt slouches in his desk chair, waving a hand for me to take a seat opposite him. “Get it out. You’ll feel better for it.”

“Who took the picture?”

“Me.”

That sums him up entirely.

Always watching. Shielding.

The parent.

That’s what happens, no?

The parent takes the picture. Well, the mom. But it’s not like Lindsay was permitted to be around after the divorce. And it has to be a while ago. Callan’s more kid than preteen.

I tip the frame at him. “It’s a good composition.”

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