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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

U sually, Callan crashed like a toddler after a sugar-binge when he stayed in his childhood home. There was something about being in his old bedroom, under his parents’ roof, that made him feel secure.

But there was nothing usual about this visit. He’d wrestled with worry for his father, uncertainty regarding his relationship with Peri, and guilt about…all of it. Relying too heavily on his parents for their help with his daughter. Getting himself involved in danger because of Alyssa.

All of it he could justify. All of it.

Except that kiss.

There was zero justification for that. He’d hurt her. He’d rejected her when all he wanted was to hold her and make her his.

But how could he with Peri needing him so much? He was already failing to love his daughter well. Adding a second person to the mix wasn’t going to improve anything.

That was the problem, wasn’t it?

Alyssa’d had it right. Love meant time and care, neither of which he’d shown to Peri. What made him think he could show them to Alyssa? And even if he could, he didn’t deserve her love. He didn’t deserve anything.

No shock those thoughts hadn’t helped him sleep.

He'd finally fallen asleep, then had woken up with the sunrise.

After texting Mom to confirm that he could leave Peri here for the weekend, he slipped into the shower and tried to focus, though thoughts of Alyssa dogged him.

She wasn’t vindictive. She wasn’t Megan. She’d forgive him. She’d understand why he had to give Peri all of his attention. Ultimately, when he and Alyssa parted, they’d part as friends.

Assuming they survived the weekend.

If he wanted to do that—and he absolutely must make sure they both made it out of this unscathed—then he needed to think straight.

He dried off and dressed in yesterday’s jeans and sweatshirt, not wanting to risk getting his new slacks and button-down dirty before they left for the party. He returned to his bedroom to read his Bible and pray.

A few minutes later, he opened his door to find Peri sitting crossed-legged in the hallway, leaning against the opposite wall. She wore her pajamas and socks, which explained why he hadn’t heard her approach.

“Good morning, Sweet Pea. Whatcha doing out here?”

She lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “Didn’t want to wake you.” She peered past him, looking confused.

“I was awake. Even if I hadn’t been, you can knock on my door anytime.” He scooped her into his arms. “You’re looking chipper as a daisy this morning.”

Which wasn’t entirely true. She looked tired, her skin pale, dark smudges beneath her eyes.

“Did you sleep all right?”

She shrugged.

“Talkative in the mornings, aren’t you, little one?”

She shrugged again, this time with the tiniest smile tugging her lips up.

“Hmm. What can I do to make you smile?” He carried her down the stairs, mulling the question.

He’d once tried tickling her, but she’d remained stone-faced. His mother had told him later that people only responded with laughter to being tickled when the tickling was done by someone they trusted.

He decided not to face that disappointment again.

“When I was your age, food always woke me up. What do you think? Are you hungry?”

Again, she said nothing, but this time, he got the feeling she was being quiet because he’d said she wasn’t talkative. Was she teasing him? Or punishing him?

The first, no doubt. She looked like her mother, but she hadn’t inherited Megan’s pettiness, thank God.

He carried her into the small walk-in pantry. “What do we have in here? Let’s see. Do you want”—he gazed at the cans—“baked beans?”

She shook her head, horrified. She didn’t seem to know if he was serious or kidding.

“How about spinach?”

She scrunched up her little face, but this time, she almost smiled.

“Hmm. Picky eater, I guess. Let’s see… Ooh, I’ve got it.” He grabbed a container. “Shortening.”

That earned a grin. “Silly.”

There were boxes of cereal, but when he lifted a box of bran-something, she shook her head. Smart kid.

Then, Callan spied pancake mix. He pulled it out, showed her the photo, and lifted his eyebrows. “Do you think your old man can pull off pancakes?” He read the directions. “All I have to do is add milk and eggs. What do you think? Can I do it?”

She took the question seriously, nodding after a moment of deliberation. “I’ll help.”

“You’re the best.” He carried her and the box back to the kitchen and plopped them both on the counter.

Callan kept up a stream of conversation, doing everything he could think of to draw Peri out, but she mostly sat silently while he started a pot of coffee, then measured the mix. He let her crack the eggs and add them and the milk, then set the bowl on her lap and gave her a spoon. “You stir that while I get the griddle hot.”

“’Kay.”

He stifled a sigh. She certainly wasn’t making it easy for him.

“Tell me about your new friends,” he said. “You were talking to Alyssa about someone named Emma, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

He set the stovetop griddle on the gas stove, lit the fire, and then added a pat of butter.

“Is she nice?”

“I guess.”

“Is she ugly? Does she have a huge wart on her nose?”

Peri giggled. “No.”

“Good. Good. Little girls with wart-noses are twenty-seven percent more likely to be witches. You have to make sure they don’t have brooms and black cats before you can be friends with them.”

“Witches are just pretend, Daddy.”

“Are you sure? I thought they were real.”

She was smiling at him now.

“Hmm. Even if you’re wrong, if Emma doesn’t have a wart-nose, then she’s probably not a witch.” Callan leaned against the counter across from his daughter in the U-shaped kitchen. “Tell me about other friends. I’m sure you’ve made a few.”

She nodded but didn’t elaborate.

She wasn’t exactly loquacious. Not with him anyway.

Remaining quiet to give her the opportunity to talk, he took the batter and poured it into circles on the griddle, then set the table for three and added the crock of butter and maple syrup.

“I think they’re ready to flip,” Peri said.

He returned to the griddle and saw that, sure enough, the pancakes looked dry on top. He flipped the first and found it perfectly golden brown on the opposite side. “You’re a chef!”

“Mommy used to let me help her.”

“I bet your mom was good at pancakes.” He worked hard to keep negativity about Megan out of his thoughts and words when he was in Peri’s presence. She needed to remember her mother with fondness.

When they were finished, he stacked the pancakes on a plate, which he slid into a warm oven, then started the next batch.

He was flipping them over when footsteps sounded behind him.

“Alyssa!” Peri’s voice was full of enthusiasm, a drastic change from how she’d been talking to him.

He tried not to be too jealous.

“Hey, beautiful.” Alyssa stepped up to the cooktop and peeked. “Ooh, my favorite. Did you help make these?”

“Uh-huh.” She slid down from the counter and, while Alyssa poured herself a cup of coffee, chattered like they were old friends.

Callan focused on getting drinks, finding some fruit, and not letting his jealousy ruin their breakfast.

“Go ahead,” Alyssa said. “Ask him.”

He carried a glass of juice to the table, catching Peri’s wary look. “Ask me what?”

When she said nothing, he turned to the oven to grab the stack.

Alyssa lowered her voice. “He’s on your side. If he can say yes, he will.”

He found a hot pad, set it on the table, and plopped the plate on top. Not asking. Not pushing.

“What am I missing?”

When neither of them said anything, he sat beside them, bowed his head and said a quick prayer, then transferred a pancake to Peri’s plate. “Butter? Syrup? Both?”

“Both.”

He was fixing it how she liked it when she blurted, “I wanna take cheerleading like my friend Emma but Gigi said I had to ask you. Can I?”

He smiled, pretending he didn’t notice the fear in her expression. Did she think he’d be angry with her? Or say no?

Sort of, a little, he wanted to say no. Those short skirts. But his fears weren’t a good enough reason to disappoint her. “I can’t see why not. Do you know the name of the place where Emma takes lessons?”

Her expression brightened. “She wrote it down for me. I can get the paper. She said her mom and Gigi can carpool ’cause it’s in Augusta.” She slid down from her chair. “I’ll go get it.”

“It’ll wait until after breakfast.”

“Okay.” But Peri seemed happy now. He had no idea how much cheerleading lessons cost, and he didn’t care. He’d made his daughter smile, and that was worth any price.

His phone dinged with a text, and he pulled it from his pocket.

You’ll need to keep Peri with you for a few days until your father’s feeling better.

That wasn’t going to work. He hated to do this, but he texted back,

I’m sorry, Mom, but I can’t. Hannah can’t keep her, either. I know it’s not ideal, but I need your help.

Mom’s response was immediate.

No. You’ll need to make other arrangements.

No? Just…no?

Mom had never refused to help him.

Another text came through.

They’ve told us Dad needs to rest, and he won’t if Peri’s there. She’s your responsibility, Callan. It’s time for you to step up.

She was right, but…

I need her to be safe.

She will be because you promised you’d stay out of danger.

He had made that promise. And he’d intended to keep it. And then he’d broken it, but for good reason.

He could explain to Mom everything that’d happened to get him to this place. He could call her and justify his decisions.

But Mom’s mind was made up.

And Dad’s health mattered. How could Callan risk it?

He scrambled for another solution, but none came to mind. If he were in the city, he could ask a coworker to help, but they had to be in Shadow Cove in a couple of hours. There wasn’t enough time to drive Peri to Boston, and even if there were, was he really going to foist his daughter off?

“You okay over there?” Alyssa asked.

He appreciated her kindness despite how he’d treated her the night before. All for Peri’s sake, he knew, but even so, he appreciated it.

He settled back at the table. “Sure. I’m great.”

Peri shoved a few bites of food into her mouth, then asked Alyssa, “How come you didn’t sleep in Daddy’s room?”

Callan nearly choked on his coffee.

Alyssa’s fork froze halfway to her mouth. But the pause was short before she took her bite. She took her time chewing and swallowing, maybe waiting for him to jump in.

He had no idea what to say.

“I used to have sleepovers when I lived with Mommy,” Peri said. “Gigi and Papi said I’m too young for sleepovers, but Mommy let me. My friends always slept in my bed.”

“I bet that was fun.” Alyssa’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “You were with good friends. But grown-ups don’t have sleepovers like that.”

“Mommy said it was okay as long as he was a very good friend.”

Whoa . What?

Callan stood abruptly. “I forgot the fruit. You want an apple? I’m going to cut one up.” He grabbed a knife from the block and searched for a cutting board. He’d grown up here. He should know where they were. But he was having trouble concentrating.

“Hmm, that makes sense,” Alyssa said. “Your daddy and I are friends, but maybe not that good of friends. Besides, I bet your daddy snores like a buzzsaw.”

“Do not.” He worked to keep his tone lighthearted as he found the cutting board and sliced through the apple, needing to do something with his hands.

“And he probably passes gas in his sleep.” Alyssa waved her hand in front of her face. “Stinky.”

Peri giggled. “Do you toot in your sleep, Daddy?”

“Probably, but I’m sleeping so…” He shrugged. “You girls are silly.”

Alyssa must’ve made a face because Peri’s laugh only grew louder.

“I wonder if Mommy’s friends tooted in their sleep,” Peri said.

“Did your mommy have a lot of sleepovers?” Alyssa asked.

“Uh-huh.”

Slice. Just slice the apple and don’t think about what friends Megan entertained while my daughter slept in the next room .

Was it wrong to want to murder a woman who was already dead?