Page 103 of Bad For Me (Rock Canyon, Idaho 5)

The knocking continued, growing more insistent, and he knew it wasn’t his dad or brother. They would have already walked into the house and started bitching at him about not answering the door.

Everett opened the door to find Callie standing on his doorstep.

“Hi,” she said.

His heart squeezed, and he rubbed his eyes, hoping they weren’t too bloodshot. “Hi.”

“I know that we’re in a weird place right now, but you also said that no matter what, you’d be there for me. Did you mean it?”

The question was said quickly, and she was carrying herself stiffly. Did she think he was going to tell her to take a hike?

“Umm,” he said, leaning against the door frame. “Yeah, of course.”

Her shoulders sagged, and he noticed that her eyes looked bruised. As if she’d spent all night crying and had hardly slept.

“Okay, I need you to drive me to Boise.”

“Now?” he asked.

“Yes, right now.”

“For what? You could have called and given me a heads-up at least,” he said.

“Except that I smashed my phone last night, so I couldn’t. I know that this is rude, out of the blue, and violates about a thousand social codes, but can you please, please drive me?” She paused, staring up at him with those warm whiskey-hazel eyes and added, “I need you to be

there for me today.”

“Are you going to tell me what this is about, or are you just going to leave me hanging like every other time?”

Callie covered her face with her hands and groaned. “Are you seriously trying to blackmail me right now?”

“Hey, if I’m going to play Jeeves, driving four hours round trip, I at least deserve to know what we’re doing.”

He could tell by the set of her jaw that she wanted to tell him to go to hell but didn’t. Instead, she let out a heavy sigh. “I’ll tell you,” she said.

“Let me just grab my coat,” he said, walking back into the house.

THEY WERE JUST passing Glen’s Ferry when the question Callie had been dreading came up again.

“So why did I have to drop everything to take you to Boise?”

This was it. Time to disclose the horrors of her past.

“We’re going to see Tristan Anderson, the man who wrote me those letters.”

Everett said nothing as seconds ticked by, and then he asked, “Are you going to tell me who he is to you?”

Her stomach roiled, and she took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. The last thing she wanted to do was puke in Everett’s car.

“When I was fifteen, I started dating this boy, Tristan. We dated all through the rest of high school and college. After we graduated, he asked me to marry him, and I said yes.”

Everett’s hands tightened on the wheel; she could tell by the sudden whiteness of his knuckles. Was he jealous? It would have been sweet at any other moment. But now a lump formed in her throat as she got going, even though the words poured out of her like a volcano.

“I was so happy; nothing could spoil it for me. Tristan had experienced mood swings and sometimes he’d have blackouts, but they were so few and far between, I didn’t really piece anything together, you know? But when we moved into my childhood home, they became more frequent.

“As you know, my mom was a recovering alcoholic, and she had made a lot of mistakes. But she loved me and adored him, so she gave us her house to live in and moved out to the guest house. We still had meals together, but it was nice to have our own place when most married people were stuck in one-bedroom apartments.

“I thought that finally things were getting better. No more drunken rages from my mom, and we were finally able to have a relationship again. The stars had aligned, life was good, and I thought we were going to live happily ever after.” She couldn’t tear her gaze away from Everett’s face, at the harsh grimace twisting his lips. Obviously, her talking about loving another man was tearing him up, and she wanted to reach across, to explain that it was different from what they had. The love she and Everett had was stronger because of who they were now. Then, she’d been a young girl with high expectations and ideals. Now, she knew what was real.