Page 7 of Operator
Her.
A thin sundress the color of her eyes, like lilacs in a summer afternoon, wraps around her legs. Even from a distance I can tell the color of the dress accentuates the purple cast to her pale blue eyes, and I know if I look closely enough, they’d be damn near purple with light gold streaks at the iris.
Memories don’t hold a candle to how beautiful Gwen is in person…and my memories of her are what used to keep me from losing it completely.Her red hair has softened with time. It’s now a light copper she has pulled up in a loose topknot with strands floating down to frame her face. The freckles on her nose she used to cover up with goop are bare now, making her look as sweet and young as she had before.
My throat catches and I manage to choke out, “Hello, Gwen,” when I reach the fence, but it comes out strangled.How is it that seeing the anger flush her cheeks makes me want to kiss her till she flushes for a different reason? I’d thought the time apart, the fact that she married my brother, and her clear scorn for me would sate any desire I ever had for her.
I’d been wrong.
So very, very wrong.
I want her now more than I ever have, and I’m pretty sure she’d dance on my grave if given the chance.
“What are you doing here, Callum?” Gwen asks blankly, confirming my suspicion. Yep. She’d definitely dance on my grave. After she killed and buried me herself. Her eyes are flat and bright, but clear. There’s no kindness in them, but there’s no hate either, despite the rigidity of her posture. Her gaze is completely devoid of emotion, like her voice. The times she’d been able to smile at me like she was lit from the inside out with happiness are long gone. She has no softness for me now, only hard edges that match my own. Time hadn’t been kind to either of us.
I can’t resist goading her. I never could. Her lack of excitement at seeing me makes me want to needle her any way I can to get a reaction. Any reaction. “Is that any way to talk to your brother-in-law?”
Her eyes flash at my comment and I grin inwardly. Wickedly. I take pleasure in her torment, if only a little. Maybe a part of me wants her to suffer as much as I did, even though it was from my own doing. Stoking the fire in her that I know burns bright is easier to handle than the dispassionate expression on her face. Hate I can deal with. It’s much better than nothingness.
“Is that what you are? I wouldn’t know. We haven’t seen you around here in a while. I’d forgotten,” she responds, her back stiffening. Daisy whines and wiggles, and Gwen makes soothing noises at her. “I think you should leave. It’s what you’re best at. We’ve managed just fine without you so far. Your parents can show you where Ian is buried if you’ve finally come to pay your respects.”
I’ll admit that stings, like she meant it to, but I don’t let her see it. She’ll have a lot of bite where I’m concerned and that’s okay. I’ll take everything she’s got as long as she’ll give it. “I know where he is. But that’s not why I’m here. I thought you should be the first to know.”
“Know what?” Was I hearing things, or was there a note of panic in her voice? Good. Panic meant she still feels something. I’m a bastard to want her to feel anything at all, but we all knew that already.
Daisy presses more intently into her side and the sweet little sundress Gwen is wearing tugs down a little, contracting around her body, emphasizing the tautness of her belly. I frown, studying her a little more closely now that I’m not distracted by her face and her nearness. When realization dawns, I have to grip the fence to keep from face-planting into the red dust at my feet.
Her hand goes to her stomach and rests on the full swell of it, real protective like.Pregnant. It never occurred to me that she’d be pregnant. In fact, I can’t think of anything that could have surprised me more. I’d never given enough of a damn to ask, and my parents apparently didn’t think it was important enough to mention. Ian’s baby.Gwen’sbaby. It’s funny, though. I always thought she’d end up pregnant with mine. I thought seeing her again would be the worst part of coming back.
Looks like I was dead-ass wrong.
How far along could she be? I have no fucking idea, because what do I even know about babies? Ian died six months ago. So, she’s what? More than that? Damn near close to popping, if the size of her stomach is any indication. The metal from the fence digs into my palms as the implications come crashing down all around me.
Gwen’s pregnant. With my brother’s baby.
I find my voice again, though I can’t take my eyes off her hands and what they’re cradling. “What’d you say?”
Her hand clutches around her stomach, and those lavender eyes narrow. “What did you think I should know first?”
I force the staccato words around my parched tongue. “I’m moving back. To Sweet Creek. To my parents.” I nod to their house, visible in the distance. All she’d have to do is look out her bedroom window to see the bedroom where I’ll be sleeping. The same bedroom she used to try to convince me to sneak out of. I wonder if she’s thinking about that, too.
“You can’t,” she blurts out, taking a step away from me. “You shouldn’t.”
I cock my head, struggling for my earlier bravado. “Why not?”
“I mean, why? Why now? If I remember correctly, you said you’d rather bedeadthan move back.” That bitterness in her voice is an arrow aimed straight at where my heart should be. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out she’s implying the wrong man died. I won’t deny it. She’s right. Ian was always the better of us. Kind. Thoughtful. Obedient. Steadfast. It’s no surprise he won the girl. He was a good man, the best. He should be here, standing in front of her, not me.
No one knows that better than the man who gave her up.
Why now? Because I have nothing else. Because she’s my touchstone. Because I’m afraid. So damn afraid if I don’t find something to keep me steady, I’ll end up wasting away like so many men I’ve known. I’m afraid I’ll end up exactly like Ian. But I can’t tell his widow that. So I settle for something close to the truth. “Bunny and Dad need help with the businesses. Dad’s not doing so well, and Mom wouldn’t have the first idea what to do with any of them.”
She pales. “They never said anything to me. Why didn’t they tell me? I would have helped them.”
“I imagine that’s precisely why they didn’t tell you. They probably thought you had enough on your plate as it is.”
Gwen shoves stray locks of coppery red hair out of her face and squares her shoulders, eyes darkening. “Fine. If they need your help then, fine. Sweet Creek may be small, but I’m sure there’s room enough for the two of us as long as you keep your distance.”
A country and the Atlantic Ocean hadn’t been enough distance. I doubt the bumfuck town of Sweet Creek, North Carolina, will be enough, either.
