#ames stuff

A silent moment passed as Silver seemed to contemplate his next move, before he turned to Eclipse, gave him a little sneer, and flared his power to lower himself back to the ground. He chose to climb the rock wall side this time, and moved slowly and carefully. Eclipse called down to him, throwing taunts and encouragement interchangeably, which seemed to be a feat only Eclipse was capable of.

Callie smiled, shaking her head slightly. It was hard to believe how much her life had changed over the last year. Seemed like one minute she was minding her own business, living alone, maybe not happy but at least content. Or so she thought.

The next thing she knew, Silver crashed landed in her backyard, starting a whole thing that brought Wade into her life, and drew her closer to the Wachowskis at the same time. Then, a few months later, Eclipse appeared, and wasn’t that whole situation an adventure in barely controlled chaos?

Her entire life was upended over the course of a few months. She went from childless to two kids in a blink, and even though there’d been some growing pains and challenges, now she couldn’t imagine her life without those little aliens.

She’d never thought of becoming a mother. Her own died when she was ten, leaving her with a father who withdrew and treated her as nothing more than an obligation. There was no other family to speak of, or Callie was sure he would have shuffled her off onto someone else to raise.

The smile faded as she thought of her father. In a way, the trainwreck that became her life back then was set in motion because of him. After her mother died, she felt like a burden. He complained about having to work more hours to pay off her mother’s medical bills, and care for Callie without help. So she did everything she could to take care of herself. To not be a bother.

At the time she didn’t think much of it. Lots of kids were on their own after school. Lots of kids did their own laundry and cooked for themselves. Working parents weren’t new, and she wasn’t exactly having to roam the streets to find food.

But looking back, she recognized how messed up that was. She didn’t have a chance to properly grieve her mother, because suddenly she had to take care of herself. Oh, her father still bought food and made sure bills were paid, it wasn’t like she had to take over everything. But emotionally, she was suddenly adrift. People were nice to her after her mother died, of course, but no one asked how she was. They just figured her father would step up and be there for her.

But he wasn’t.

Over the years she told herself that he must have been grieving, too. He’d lost his wife of twelve years, so it had to have been hard on him, right? And grief affects people differently, so maybe he didn’t mean to pull away and leave her on her own. He was just dealing with his own pain.

A perfectly reasonable assumption.

But it didn’t stop the hurt.

Because he never got over it and reached back out to his daughter.

It just got worse as the years went on. As Callie became a teenager, her father all but ignored her. She eventually got a job to keep herself out of the house, which is where she met Mark. He was five years older than her, and started flirting with her at her job as a cashier for the local supermarket.

He was so nice. And so attentive. And she was going to be kicked out of her home when she graduated from high school, so . . .

Desperation plus intense desire to be loved equals perfect setup for abuse.

She went from a home that was emotionally neglectful, to one that was physically abusive.

And it just went downhill from there.

Callie blinked, giving her head a little shake. Don’t think about that. Don’t think about those years. They’re done, you’re safe.

She hadn’t thought about her father in a long time. Did he think about her? At all? Did he ever regret what happened between them? Ever think about reaching out, but couldn’t find her because she’d changed her name?

Her brow furrowed. That was a sobering thought. The possibility that he may have wanted to repair bridges, but couldn’t because she’d essentially been in hiding all these years. To his viewpoint, she’d all but vanished off the face of the Earth.

But then again, would she want to try and repair their relationship?

Was there anything to repair?

She glanced up, watching as Silver tried to pull himself up the rock wall. His arms trembled, and he used his power to lower himself back to the ground. Eclipse leapt down, chattering away and gesturing to the hand holds. After a moment of this apparent pep talk, Silver walked forward and tried again.

No matter how much they fought, those boys loved each other. The way brothers should. The way family should.

So why didn’t her father?

She sat there for a long moment, watching her boys climb. Listening to the birds sing and call to each other. Feeling the sun on her skin.

Setting her book aside, Callie pulled out her phone, and typed her father’s name into Google. She scrolled past a few listings for men who apparently had the same name, until she came upon a familiar picture. He was older than she last saw him, with whiter hair and more lines on his face, but it was him.

His obituary.

The little lurch her heart gave wasn’t something she expected.

Tapping on the link, it took her to a newspaper website for some city in Arizona. He’d died three years ago, from a massive heart attack as he mowed his lawn. She skimmed past his name and age, slowing down when it mentioned his family.

“Survived by Cheryl, his wife of almost 20 years, and two sons, Jacob (17) and Jackson (15).”

She read this line again. And again. Skimmed the rest of the listing—great friend, worked hard, blah blah blah—and went back to this line.

Two sons. He’d moved and remarried a few years after she’d left their hometown and had two more children.

There was no mention of any other children, at all, let alone ‘from a previous marriage’.

“He had a daughter,” she said, as though saying it out loud would let this years old posting know of its error. “He had me. I’m his eldest child, his daughter, he had a daughter.”

Her chest felt tight. But it was stupid, she shouldn’t feel this way, she didn’t care, did she? After all, she hadn’t thought about the man in years, hadn’t cared where he was or what he was doing. He’d shown her how little he cared for her years ago, and she’d left town without a look back after Liam had died, after Mark had gone to jail.

She’d walked out and left him behind. Because he had left her behind years before.

She didn’t care. She didn’t.

What did it matter if he went on to have a happy new life, with a second wife and two boys? What did it matter if he had himself a nice little family, while she lost her child, moved constantly, sometimes lived out of her car, and had regular nightmares about her ex?

What did it matter if he moved on and forgot about her, when she had done the same thing?

It mattered.

It mattered, damnit, because she mattered. She should have mattered to him, but she didn’t, and she didn’t know why.

Callie shoved her phone back into her bag, trying to will away the tears that threatened. They weren’t of sadness, not for him, anyway. They were of anger and confusion and hurt.

She’d never know why now. She’d never have an answer for why he turned away from her. Why he withdrew. Why he didn’t seem to care, even when she lost Liam and everything that Mark had done came to light.

He. Didn’t. Care.

But he cared enough to find himself another wife, apparently. Cared enough to have two more kids. Had plenty of room in his heart for that.

But not for her. Not for his first child. His daughter.

She swallowed hard, trying to focus on something else, anything else.

The boys were still at the tower, laughing and racing each other to the top. Silver had apparently gotten the hang of it, and only used his power a little bit as he climbed. Eclipse didn’t seem to mind that, now.

The sun was still shining. Birds were still singing.

And Callie MacPherson just wanted to scream.

~X~X~X~

Wade pulled into Callie’s driveway, parking his pickup behind her Subaru. Light was fading from the day, and he listened to his shoes crunch across the gravel as he walked to her porch. He checked his phone almost without realizing it, reading over the last conversation they’d shared from less than an hour ago.

Callie: can you come over when you have a chance

Wade: Sure! :) Need me to pick anything up on my way?

Callie: no

Callie: i just

Callie: i guess i just need an ear

Tom had called at this point, keeping Wade from responding for a few minutes.

Callie: nevermind

Callie: forget it

Callie: im being dumb

Wade: Easy, take a breath.

Wade: I get off in about half an hour and will be over asap.

No response for a few minutes.

Wade: Don’t fall into your head, Cal. I’ll be there.

She hadn’t responded, which was another clue to her current mindset. Callie didn’t text like that, normally. She was a stickler for writing ‘properly’, even in texting form. “The only thing that separates us from the animals is our ability to utilize proper punctuation.” Wade had, admittedly, been a bit lazy with his texting before that, so had started writing back in the same way, and now it was habit.

To see such abbreviated messages from her made a knot of worry twist in his belly.

Stowing his phone in his pocket, he climbed the steps to her porch, giving a quick knock to the front door. It opened fairly quickly, and Silver gave him a big smile.

“Hi Wade!”

“Hey, little hog,” he said, returning the smile. “Your mom around?”

Silver’s smile faded somewhat, and he threw a glance over his shoulder to look back into the house. Turning back to Wade, the boy spoke in a softer voice. “She’s being . . . weird.”

Wade’s brow furrowed. The knot in his belly gave another twist. “Weird?”

The boy nodded, his forehead quills bristling just a bit. “Ever since we came back from the park, she’s been kinda quiet. I don’t think she’s mad, but she seems . . . sad.”

Wade gave a little hum, leaning a little closer to Silver with a softer voice. “Maybe I can talk to her and see what’s got her so down.”

Silver nodded again, and reached forward to grab his hand, pulling Wade inside before closing the door. They headed toward the kitchen, where Callie and Eclipse stood at the center island with a large bowl of cookie dough. She stood behind Eclipse, watching as he carefully scooped a spoonful onto a sheet lined with parchment paper.

When Silver and Wade walked in, a smile spread on the darkling’s face. “Hey Wade! We’re making cookies!”

Wade nodded as Silver moved to Callie’s other side, using his telekinesis to lift himself and sit on the corner of the counter.

“So I see,” Wade said, coming to a stop at the island opposite of the trio. He rested crossed arms on the counter, leaning forward as his eyes flicked to Callie. “They look good.”

“They are!” Eclipse said, right before shoving the spoon in his mouth to eat the glob of dough that was supposed to go to the cookie sheet. “I just wanna eat ‘em all right now!”

Callie took the spoon from him and turned to toss it into the sink. Wade followed her actions, watching her expressions. She didn’t say a word, but Silver had been right, she did look sad.

“We each had our favorite stuff for supper, too,” Silver offered, his gaze flicking from the cookies to Wade. “Even though Mom always says she’s not a short order cook and isn’t going to make two different meals for us.”

Wade nodded, flicking his eyes back to Callie, who wordlessly pulled a fresh spoon from the drawer, handing it to Silver. Eclipse gave a whine, disappointed his time dishing out the cookies to the sheet—and his mouth—had apparently come to an end. He looked on the verge of a pout, when Callie reached beneath his middle head spike and scratched that hidden spot Wade knew was calming for the boy. The darkling tried to hold onto his annoyance, but it quickly faded into a content smile as he closed his eyes and leaned against her hip.

The next few minutes were silent, as Silver continued to scoop the dough out and onto the cookie sheet, and Callie moved her hand from beneath Eclipse’s spike to sit on top of his head instead. Her thumb moved in short strokes on his brow, drawing a soft, clicky type of sound that acted as a sort of darkling purr.

Callie didn’t look at Wade. The look in her eyes was soft, almost far away. The worrisome way she’d texted him came to mind again, and he had a split second when he thought she may be mad at him. It was quickly pushed aside, however, at the thought of her first text, asking him to come over. If she were mad, she wouldn’t want him here.

Right?

Once the cookie sheet was filled, Callie scooped one more spoonful out of the bowl, holding it out to Silver as she placed a kiss on the top of his head.

“Why don’t you guys head upstairs while these bake?” she asked, her voice sounding almost as far away as her expression. “I’ll give you a holler once they’re done.”

“Okay!”

Eclipse was gone in a blink, but Silver hovered for a moment, finishing his cookie dough, and offering his mother a quiet look. She was wiping the counter down when she noticed her son’s gaze, and offered him a little, strained smile.

“Go on, Bug. It’s okay.”

Silver flicked his eyes from Callie to Wade and back again, before nodding and putting his spoon in the sink. Then he was off, flying upstairs in a cyan blur.

Silence returned, as Callie slid the cookie sheet into the oven, and set the timer. Then she turned to lean her hip against the edge of the counter, arms crossed.

She still wouldn’t look at him, instead focusing on a spot on the floor.

“Well,” he said once the silence had grown too heavy. His voice sounded a little too loud in the kitchen, and he softened it slightly. “Making everyone’s favorite meals, baking cookies . . . You sure seem . . . domestic tonight.”

Callie didn’t say anything, but flicked her eyes to his, an expression on her face he couldn’t quite read. Wade pulled his lips tight, before pushing himself up to move slightly closer to her around the counter.

“C’mon, Cal. You said you wanted an ear, and I’ve got two perfectly good ones.” His voice was softer, and he took another step closer. “What’s going on? You’re not dying are ya?”

It was supposed to be a joke. A little bit of levity to lighten the moment, to bring a smile to her face. Instead, she stood leaning against the counter, still giving him that look he couldn’t read.

The dread in his belly felt heavier.

“Oh God,” he said, eyes wide. “You’re not, are you??”

She stood silent for a moment, her brows slightly furrowed, before pushing away from the counter and heading toward her desk. Snatching her phone off the top, she walked back, flicking through a few things on the screen with almost violent jabs.

Once she’d found whatever she was looking for, she placed the phone between them on the counter. Wade offered her a questioning look, before moving forward and pulling the phone closer. The screen showed an obituary for someone, but he didn’t recognize the name.

“I don’t understand,” he said, looking from the phone to Callie. “Who’s this?”

She looked at him for a moment, before letting out a soft sigh. “My father.”

Wade’s eyes went wide. “Your . . .” He looked back to the phone, quickly reading through the obit. Blah blah blah missed by family and friends, blah blah blah memorial will be held—

Wait a minute.

He scrolled back up, reading the first few lines again, brows furrowing.

“Survived by [. . . ] two sons, Jacob (17) and Jackson (15).”

“It doesn’t mention you.” He looked up, finding her wiping down an already clean counter. “It doesn’t list you as a surviving child.”

“No,” she said without looking up. “It doesn’t.”

Wade looked down at the obit again, absently scrolling the screen with his thumb. Callie had told him about her past, about her abusive ex-husband and lost son. She’d told him about the mother she’d lost as a kid, and her emotionally absent father.

And when she did, it was always in a kind of ‘matter-of-fact’ tone of voice. Almost like she was talking about the weather.

“It happened,” she’d say with a shrug when he questioned her over her feelings about it. “It was a long time ago, and I’ve moved on. No sense in dwelling.”

Callie wasn’t big on what she called ‘dwelling’. Wade was pretty sure that meant she just shoved those memories and emotions away and didn’t bother dealing with them. And it was easy, he supposed, when all those things were from so long ago. Easy to ignore. Easy to avoid dealing with.

Until now.

Now it was literally staring her in the face, and the reality of her past was not so easy to pretend didn’t happen.

A moment passed, silent and long, before Wade spoke again. “So . . . how do you feel about this?”

She continued to wipe down the counter. “I hadn’t seen him in a long time. Hadn’t thought about him. He’d essentially kicked me out of his life years ago, and I’d done the same after I left town. He was already dead to me, this just makes it official.”

Wade flinched. That was cold, but he knew her. This cleaning, the fact that she wouldn’t look at him, her even tone, they were all signs she was trying to convince herself she wasn’t upset when she clearly was.

“So you’re not upset?” he asked, his voice soft as he watched her expression. “Even a little?”

A sharp laugh left her, and now she looked at him, her face pinched in anger. “Why would I be upset? Should I fall to my knees and openly weep for the man who should have been there after my mother died, but instead all but walked away from his grieving child?” She slammed the sponge onto the counter, making Wade jump. “He never even comforted me, Wade. We came home from the funeral and he walked into his bedroom and didn’t come out until the next afternoon.”

“Maybe he just didn’t know how,” Wade said, turning the phone over to hide the screen. “Lots of people aren’t good with hard stuff like that, and—“

“Don’t defend him.” The words came out like a hiss, and Wade pulled his lips tight. Callie turned, throwing the sponge into the sink, before turning back and slamming her hands on the counter. “He was all I had left, and he disappeared. He withdrew. He turned away. And I was a kid, trying to find her way after the single most important person in the world to me was gone.”

Wade said nothing. He held his tongue, letting her get it out, letting her say the things she’d likely kept locked inside for all these years.

“I’ve told myself all the same excuses,” she said, pacing back and forth behind the island. “He was grieving, he didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to deal with things. I was always mama’s little shadow and he had no clue how to deal with me without her. All perfectly understandable reasons for him to pull away for a while.” She stopped pacing, and looked at him with a pinched expression. “But he never reached back out. It was like . . . like he just didn’t care.”

Automatic platitudes leapt to Wade’s tongue. “I’m sure he cared, he just didn’t know how to show it. He was your father, I’m sure he loved you.”

Perfectly reasonable things to say to someone who’s hurting.

But he bit down on them before they could leave his mouth. Because he knew, better than most, that not all parents cared for their children. He knew, from experience, that sometimes a father just didn’t care. And sometimes they became unavailable for their children, either physically, or emotionally.

She looked at him for a long moment, before resuming her pacing.

“If he didn’t care, then I shouldn’t care. He kicked me out of the house after high school, didn’t give two shits about what I was going through with Mark, and I didn’t hear a peep from him after Liam died.” She paused, turning to look at him again. Her face was set, that hard look she got when she was fighting her emotions, fighting the hurt or sadness that wanted to show. “He didn’t care, so I didn’t. Why should I? He ran off and found himself another family, another wife and had two more kids, ones he was actually there for. I did some digging, he was Mr. Perfect Father for those boys. Little league, karate, soccer, he was all involved in their lives. Soooo loved by the community. Mr. Wonderful in every way!”

Callie suddenly turned and kicked the trash can, sending it flying into the dining room with a clatter. Luckily there only seemed to be an empty chocolate chip bag and a few eggshells in it, but the sudden violent action made Wade jerk.

“I shouldn’t care!” she said again, her teeth grit, voice hoarse and strained, like she was trying not to scream. “I shouldn’t care. We went our separate ways a long time ago. But he got to go off and have a wonderful little life, with kids he actually loved, while I struggled and hurt and had to rebuild myself from the broken shell Mark left. I shouldn’t care!”

“But you do,” Wade said, moving closer, arms slightly outstretched. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to hug her or calm her, but he kept his arms open, offering a soothing focus for her grief. “You care because that should have been your life. Your father. I know, believe me, I know how it feels when your father abandons you, and leaves you feeling like it was somehow your fault he did.”

She looked at him, her breathing slightly ragged, and to Wade it sounded like she was fighting tears. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, hard, and after a moment, her shoulders dropped. She looked smaller now, like she’d deflated.

“Why didn’t he love me?” Her voice was soft, like a child’s. “Mama was gone, and . . . and then so was he. I was only ten. I needed him. But he just . . . he wasn’t there.”

Wade felt so helpless. He wished he knew what the right thing to say was. To take away her pain, to take that look off her face. She looked so hurt and confused and lost, and all he wanted was to make her feel like herself again. Make her the funny, snarky, strong woman he knew.

“It’s okay to . . . to not know how to feel about this,” he said, moving closer, his voice soft. “It’s okay to be mad, or sad, or hurt. This is . . . it’s not easy. But I’ll be here, however you need. If you need to yell about it, go ahead! If you need to cry, I’ll hold the tissues. If you need to just be alone and sit quietly, I’ll take the boys out for a while. You just tell me what you need, Cal. I’m here, and I won’t go anywhere.”

For a long moment, she just stood there, staring at him. Her expression was unreadable, and Wade didn’t push. He just stood there, arms still open, waiting for her next move.

Slowly, Callie lowered her head slightly, giving a deep sigh. Her shoulders dropped, and she moved forward, slowly, eventually stepping between his outstretched arms, and resting her forehead on his chest. Wade gently wrapped his arms around her, not squeezing, not crushing, but simply holding her, feeling the way she trembled slightly in his embrace.

They stood like that for a few moments, his hands moving gently down her back in soothing strokes. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to fill the silence with words that may come out wrong. He just held her, just let her sort through her thoughts and feelings.

He was just there for her, in a way no one was there for him when his father left.

Or after the Reno trip, when he’d discovered the type of man his father truly was.

The tension he felt in her slowly faded, and she gave another sigh against him, her hands coming to rest softly on his sides.

“So . . . just to be clear, you’re not dying?” he asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.” She gave a little huff of a laugh, shaking her head against his chest. “And I guess this is why you’ve been going all June Cleaver on the boys tonight?”

Another soft chuckle, and she pulled back to settle her gaze on the buttons of his shirt.

“Sometimes I feel more like Peg Bundy,” she said, shaking her head. Her hands moved up, straightening his collar, fidgeting like she did when she was being vulnerable. “I just . . . I don’t want them to feel like they’re not wanted. Especially considering where they came from.” She paused, looking over toward the stairs. “I don’t want them to question whether they’re loved.”

Wade snorted out a laugh at that, giving her a little nudge on her shoulder. “Are you serious? Cal, it is so glaringly obvious how much you love those boys. I see it, they see it, everyone sees it. It’s not exactly a secret.”

That drew a more natural laugh from her, and she blushed slightly. Wade’s heart may or may not have sped up a little at the sight.

“Yeah. Maybe not.” Her voice was still soft, but at least she had a little smile on her face. “It was just . . . kind of a shock. Guess I just kinda needed something else to focus on for a bit.”

“Maybe,” Wade said, wearing his own smile. “But I wouldn’t call you a Peg Bundy. Marge Simpson, maybe. How do you look with your hair up?”

He grabbed her braid and pulled it straight up, earning him another laugh and light slap on the shoulder.

“Well, Eclipse is very Bart-like sometimes,” she said, reaching up to rub her eyes beneath her glasses. “I’ve had to hide my Calvin and Hobbes books to make sure he didn’t get any ideas.”

“That’s probably for the best,” he said with a chuckle. The laugh faded, and he looked at her with a little smile. “You okay? Really?”

She was quiet for a moment, letting out a soft sigh as she dropped her hands and looked up at him. “Yeah. I’m okay.” She paused for a moment, before offering him a little smile back. “Thanks.”

Wade felt his own cheeks warm at her smile, and he reached up to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “Anytime.”

As if on cue, the timer went off, breaking the moment between them. They jumped at the sudden beep, stepping away from each other as though just realizing how close they’d been standing.

“I’d better . . . uh,” she said, her cheeks burning hotter than before. “The cookies. They’re done. I should . . . yeah.”

Callie grabbed a potholder and opened the oven door, just as a hedgehog and darkling came bounding down the stairs.

“Are they done?” Eclipse yelled, leaping onto the island. “I WANT ONE!”

“Get your nasty little darkling feet off my counter, ya gremlin,” she said as she pulled the sheet from the oven. “I just cleaned that.” Placing the cookie sheet on the top of the stove, she turned as Eclipse hopped down. “Let’s give ‘em a minute to cool a bit, then we can all have one.”

“Wade too?” Silver asked.

Callie smiled, nodding. “Wade too.”

“Yay!” Wade gave a little cheer as Eclipse climbed him to perch on his back, leaning over his shoulder. “Hey, who says I want your nasty little darkling feet all over my back?”

Eclipse gave an exaggerated gasp, looking at the man in mock offense. “How dare you, sir. You should feel honored I’m gracing you with my presence. I don’t climb just anyone.”

“Yes you do,” Silver said, lifting himself to sit on the counter again. “You climb everything. The curtains, trees, the house gutters—”

“Is that what happened to my rain spout?” Callie asked, hands on hips. “You said the wind knocked it over.”

Eclipse froze, his lips pulled tight and eyes wide. “It totally did.”

She rolled her eyes, turning to scoop some cookies off the sheet and pass them out. “Little man, you and I are gonna have a chat.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eclipse said, reaching forward with grabby hands. “Cookie me!”

Wade let out a chuckle as Callie passed out cookies for everyone, and he caught her gaze as he took his. Her blush was fading, but enough was still there to make his flare just a bit. A little smile pulled one corner of her mouth as she took a bite, and she blinked, flicking her eyes to the side almost shyly.

He smiled to himself as he munched on his cookie. It was sad to think about Callie suffering from the same feelings of abandonment he’d felt with his own father. And he doubted this was the end of her true feelings regarding the death of hers. Those kinds of emotions were ugly and complicated and sometimes snuck up on you when you weren’t expecting.

But he would be there, if she let him, to help her through. Just like he’d done tonight.