The Bully (Calamity Montana)
The Bully: Chapter 19

NELLIE’S sweet scent lingered in the bathroom, even after I’d heard the front door close.

My hands were braced beside the sink, my eyes closed. I couldn’t bring myself to look in the mirror. To confront the coward.

What the fuck were we doing? What the fuck was I doing?

I’d watched Nellie’s face crumple as she’d stared at me earlier. We hadn’t talked since she’d been to the camper and found me with her diary.

When I’d followed her to the bathroom, I’d expected to find her pissed. I’d expected her to ream on me for stealing her journal. Instead, she’d been sad. And she’d slapped me with a question I wasn’t prepared to answer.

Why do you let them in and not me?

Why? Because she terrified me. Because she had a power unlike any other person on earth. If Nellie deemed me unworthy, it would destroy me. And I already knew she was too good for an asshole like me.

Was that why I’d kept asking her to tell me why she hated me? To make sure that it stayed in the forefront of her mind?

Christ. I was not a man who lacked self-confidence, both on and off the field. But when it came to Nellie, I was different. Soft. Weak. I didn’t stand a chance.

Shoving away from the sink, I strode out of the bathroom, nearly colliding with Harry in the hallway. How long had she been standing there? What had she heard?

Probably too much judging by the scowl on her face.

I scowled right back. “What?”

“You’re in love with that girl.”

Yes. Yes, I was.

I’d loved Nellie since she’d dumped coffee in my pants on First Street. Maybe I’d loved her since Charlotte and she’d consoled me after a loss. Maybe I’d loved her since the day she’d let me kiss her at fourteen.

But could I admit it out loud? No. I’d shoved Nellie away because I’d had twenty years of perfecting that game. Of pushing her away so I wouldn’t get hurt.

“You’re not denying it,” Harry said.

I shrugged.

“What are you doing here when she just sped away like her tires were on fire?”

“Can we not talk about this?” I raked a hand through my hair and took a step forward, but before I could flee this hallway, Harry arched her eyebrows and silently dared me to walk away. “Come on. Let’s just go back to the party.”

“What are you afraid of?” she asked.

“I’ll ruin her.” The confession came freely.

Harry’s gaze softened. For a split second, I thought she’d let this go. Then her hand whipped through the air and connected with the side of my head.

“Hey.” I rubbed the spot where she’d smacked me. “What was that for?”

“You’re a coward.”

“And you’re not the first woman to call me that today.”

Her expression flattened. “My Jake was an ass, like you. But the man wasn’t a coward. I expected more from you, Cal. I thought you were the champion.”

“I’m not.” My shoulders sagged. “Football, yes. But not for Nellie.”

She rolled her eyes, then she spun around and marched away.

I followed, stopping when she took the wrong turn. “Where are you going?”

“Home.” She snapped her fingers. “And you’re my ride. Let’s go.”

“We haven’t eaten yet.”

“Maybe you haven’t.” She lifted a shoulder. “But my plate’s empty. I’m a fast eater.”

“I’m not leaving the party.” Hell, we hadn’t even been here for an hour yet.

“Keys are in that fancy rig of yours, right? I’ll just drive myself. You can hitchhike home.”

“Harry.” I planted my hands on my hips. “No.”

She narrowed her gaze. “I’m leaving, Cal. With or without you.”

For fuck’s sake. These damn women were exhausting. “Fine.”

“Meet you in the car.” She smiled, then strode down the entryway for the door. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

She’d sit out there, roasting in the late-July heat, simply to spite me. If she were younger, I might let her sweat. But I wasn’t about to have an old lady die on my watch.

“Fuck.” I passed the living room, glancing at Constance asleep in her swing.

She was the cutest baby I’d ever seen, and it had been hard not to stare when Nellie had been holding her earlier. Watching them together had given me this twinge. A pinch I hadn’t felt since Elias was born and I’d gone to Denver for a visit.

The day I’d arrived, Nellie had been there too. She’d looked so beautiful that I’d told her she should look into Botox to do something about the wrinkles on her forehead.

That had pissed her off enough that she’d left.

What was wrong with me? Why was I such a damn mess? I could blame it on the shit role model that was my father, but really, it was me. The coward.

“Hey.” I jerked my chin to Pierce as I stepped onto the deck.

“What’s up?” He walked over, glancing over my shoulder to the house. “Where did Nellie go?”

“She left. And Harry and I are taking off too. Harry’s not feeling great.”

“Oh. Damn.” He clapped me on my shoulder. “Are you coming back?”

“Yeah.” There was nothing for me at the Winnebago. Nellie had stolen the book I’d been reading. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

I lifted a hand to wave at Kerrigan, then hustled for the driveway.

Harry was in the passenger seat of the Land Rover with the door open to let in some air. Next time, I’d have to remember to take my keys with me and lock the door.

I slid behind the wheel and hit the ignition button, then plucked my sunglasses from the console. Even with the shades on, I sent her a glare. “I’m never inviting you to another party.”

“Newsflash, Cal. There isn’t a party in Calamity I can’t attend without your invitation.”

I growled, knowing she was right, and put the SUV into reverse. Of all the people for me to make friends with in Calamity, why had I picked this salty woman? Damn Harry for being so popular.

When we’d arrived earlier, I’d assumed that I would need to make a few introductions. Nope. Harry knew everyone but the Grays Peak employees, who I hadn’t met either. And Harry hadn’t met Nellie.

My beautiful Nellie who’d left here on the verge of tears.

Was she okay? Maybe I should stop by her place to check in. At the very least, if she wanted to be at the barbeque, I could give her the all clear. She could return in my stead.

“You can drop me at the lobby,” Harry said as we neared the motel.

“Okay.” I eased into the parking lot, seeing Marcy through the office windows.

Harry waved at her, then opened her door, but stopped before stepping out. “Does she feel the same way about you?”

I blew out a long breath. Nellie didn’t hate me. But love? “I don’t know.”

“Only one way to find out. And now that your afternoon is clear . . .” Her eyes darted toward First, like she could see to Nellie’s front door. “Take a chance.”

Maybe. Maybe I should.

Or maybe I should let Nellie go.

“Have a good afternoon, Harry.”

“Why do I get the feeling I should smack some sense into you again?” She sighed and stepped outside, shaking her head as she walked to the office.

I eased onto the street, hating that Harry’s disappointment hit so hard. Whatever. I drove along First, the sidewalks crowded with people exploring downtown. Calamity was just as busy as everyone had warned, the summer tourist traffic making it hard for me to spend much time downtown.

Yesterday, I’d stopped at the grocery store for some beer, my contribution to Pierce’s barbeque, and had been asked for three autographs. The day before, I’d pulled into the gas station and the guy on the opposite end of the pump had not-so-conspicuously taken my picture.

Until the bustle died, I’d be sticking close to safe places. The Winnebago. Pierce and Kerrigan’s.

The turnoff to Nellie’s house approached.

I tightened my grip on the wheel.

Don’t turn. Do not turn.

The green street marker inched closer.

Keep going straight.

My foot eased off the gas and pressed the brake.

Don’t.

I turned and drove to her house, parking against the curb. The tires were stopped. The engine was off. But I couldn’t bring myself to open the door.

What was I going to say? What was I doing here? Granted it was broad daylight, but the lights inside were off. Was she even home? Maybe she’d gone for a drive. Maybe she’d stopped downtown.

I shouldn’t be here. It was too soon. Nellie and I did better when we gave each other space. Tomorrow. I could come back tomorrow. Or the next day.

Before I could pull away, my phone rang through the car’s speakers. I hit the button to answer my mother’s call. “Hey, Mom.”

“Hi. I was hoping to catch you.”

“What’s up?”

“Cal . . .” She sighed. Mom always sighed before a guilt trip. Son of a bitch. I was going to hate this phone call. “The fundraiser at Benton is next weekend. I just got off the phone with Dean Hendrickson.”

“Mom—”

“Before you interrupt me and say no, just listen. Please.”

I stifled a groan. “Okay.”

“They already announced you’d be speaking.”

“No.”

That was my father’s fuckup, not mine. He should never have volunteered me. What did he think? Now that I was retired, I had free time? The bastard hadn’t even bothered to run it by me first. What if I’d been busy?

“Cal, this is important. Don’t do it for your father. Don’t even do it for me. Do it for one of the kids who will be there. Dean Hendrickson just told me her story and it is heartbreaking.”

Dean Hendrickson knew how to play my mother, didn’t he? Like she knew how to play me.

“What kid?”

“They’ve invited some of the top students from each class to attend the gala. There will be a student at each table, a chance for them to meet some alumni. That sort of thing.”

“Okay,” I drawled.

“Well, I guess there’s a young sophomore girl attending. She’s one of those scholarship kids we all pitch in for.”

The pity in my mother’s voice made my skin crawl. The image of Nellie in her Benton uniform popped into my mind, and there was nothing about her to pity. Only admire. And if she would have been in this car, she would have cringed.

Hell, I cringed.

“This girl is apparently quite the gifted student and athlete. She’s playing on the lacrosse team and is going to be the star. But, oh, Cal.” Mom sniffled. “Her father just died this past spring. It was a freak accident at his work. This poor girl has been having a hard time. Dean Hendrickson thought it might mean a lot to her if she could hear from a fellow athlete. Maybe boost her spirits.”

I dragged a hand over my face. “I’m a football player, Mom. Not lacrosse.”

“Does it matter? Please. You won’t have to speak long. But maybe you could just give a hopeful message about endurance and hard work. Anything. And I’ve requested she be seated at our table so we can meet her. You’re so good with kids, Cal.”

And there it was. The guilt. It was so thick and heavy that not even the air-conditioning could chase it away.

“Mom—”

“Please.” There was a tremor in her voice. “I know you value your privacy. And I understand why you don’t do speaking engagements like this.”

Because I wasn’t some mentor for kids. I wasn’t a hero or man they should aspire to be. The only good advice I could give was to work your ass off. Give your life to a game.

What kind of guidance was that? Shit. It was all shit. Because once the game was gone, you’d find yourself living in an RV in a small Montana town with nothing to show for your life but a plush bank account and an addiction to an old diary.

“I don’t even know what I’d talk about,” I muttered.

“You’ve got a week to come up with something. If you wanted to come home early, I’d help you with your speech.” Mom must be desperate. She hadn’t even helped me with my speeches when I’d attended Benton as a student.

I let out a frustrated groan. No. Just say no.

“This is important to me,” she added.

No, it was important to Dad.

And if I recalled correctly, Dean Hendrickson and my parents were members of the same country club. I was merely a puppet on their twisted strings.

“Please?” I could hear her hands clasp together, shaking them like she’d dropped to her knees to beg. Regina Stark rarely begged.

Fuck my life. “Fine.”

“Oh, thank you. I’ll call the dean right now and tell him you’ve agreed. He’ll be so excited.”

“Uh-huh,” I muttered. “Five minutes. I’ll talk for five minutes.”

“I’m sure that will be wonderful.”

“I gotta go, Mom.”

“Of course. Text me your travel plans.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, then ended the call.

My finger went to the ignition, ready to turn on the car, but I hesitated, my gaze turning to Nellie’s brick house.

What did she want from me? What did I want from myself?

I blew out a long breath and started the car, abandoning the curb as I flipped around and returned to First. I sat at the stop sign, looking right, then left. There was no sign of Nellie mixed in with the nameless faces. Yet she was on every corner, at every stop.

I pictured her at The Refinery, wearing her sexy leggings and cropped tank with her hair pulled into a high ponytail. She was at Jane’s, dressed in jeans and a tank for a night at the bar with her girl posse. She was leaving the coffee shop, an iced latte in hand, as she spent her weekend strolling downtown.

A honk from behind me had my eyes shooting to the rearview. I held up a hand in apology, checked for traffic, then pulled onto the street, driving to the motel.

I parked in the alley, in my usual spot, and looked at the Winnebago.

Nellie had left her mark here too.

She was everywhere.

Because this was her home. This was her town.

And I couldn’t take that from her. She’d come to Calamity to build a life. If I could give her nothing else, at least I could let her find peace.

So I shut off the car and rushed inside, once more pulling my suitcase from the closet. But this time, I didn’t pack for a vacation. I emptied every drawer. I filled every pocket of my backpack. I stuffed toiletries into their case.

Before I climbed in my car to drive to Colorado, I stopped by the motel’s office.

And handed Marcy the keys to her Winnebago.

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