Page 46 of Callahan

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Adam

Apparently the bus station was closed on Sundays in Spring Haven, so I hadn’t been able to buy a ticket to Lancastle. I walked back to Brian’s house and, even though I felt indolent doing so, my body demanded a mid-morning nap.

I knew rest was crucial to my recovery, so I was able to let the guilt go as I laid down in the guest room. Brian was right, his bed was comfy as hell, and I was asleep in no time.

My buzzing Garmin reminding me to move pulled me from a deep slumber. I glanced at the time: one p.m., and I sat up with a jolt.

Dammit!

I’d wanted to stop in at Lainey’s bakery and buy more tarts, but I knew she closed at noon.

Maybe she still had some she’d sell me. An anonymous person had paid for my breakfast, so I had money burning a hole in my pocket.

Plus, I really wanted to see her.

After splashing water on my face and brushing my teeth, I headed toward her apartment. It was only a ten-minute walk.

Shit, if I did take the job here, I probably wouldn’t even put five thousand miles a year on my vehicle. After I’d received my signing bonus when I’d joined the Marines, I’d splurged andused it as a down payment when I bought a brand-new, grey Ford Bronco Badlands.

My SUV was almost seven years old and barely had thirty thousand miles on it; a byproduct of spending months at a time overseas. Right now, it was on blocks in my parents’ pole barn.

I was already getting to know my way around town and made it to Lainey’s outside staircase in eight minutes. As I maneuvered my way up the stairs, I began to second-guess my decision to show up at her door unannounced.

This was her time off; she probably didn’t want to be disturbed. It was rude of me not to text her and ask her if I could come over.

But if I were being honest with myself, I was afraid she’d say no.

I mean, I did have a legitimate reason for coming. If she seemed busy, I would take the tarts and go—providing she had any.

I lifted my knuckles to knock on her door and paused again. Was this a good idea? Hadn’t I just had a conversation with myself earlier about getting out of town without getting into trouble? Spending time alone with her seemed like tempting fate.

Too late now, the devil on my shoulder whispered and the next thing I knew, I was knocking on her door.

Her voice sounded panicked when she asked, “Who is it?”

“It’s Adam.”

I heard her unlocking the locks, then she swung the door open. I noticed her lean a baseball bat against the wall as I stepped over the threshold.

“Whoa, what’s that for?”

With tears in her eyes, she bent over to pick up a piece of paper, then handed it to me.

Chapter Twenty

Adam

As I read the words written in black marker on the page, it felt like my blood was going to boil over.

I scanned the paper again, still not believing what was written.

Hey basic bakery bitch—

You should try going one day without being a cunt.

Of course, that might be hard for a whore like you with a bastard son.

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