Page 13 of Choosing Us

“Actually, I am.” She grins again, and I should just put my foot right into my mouth at this point.

Smooth one, Callahan. Real smooth.

“Technically, I am a Senior Clinical Forensic Psychiatrist and Behavioral Analyst, but to get to that point, I needed my MD first.” She locates Savannah and tilts her head toward the door. “I’m going to touch base with your sister and see if she needs me to look at Olivia.”

“I’m sure she’s okay. Sav said that her seasonal allergies have been acting up since we got back from Texas and thought it might help to put a new humidifier in her room. I don’t think she’s actually sick.”

Harlow hums and gives me a small nod but still steps out to the patio. I set the humidifier box on the counter as Savannah comes back in with Harlow.

“Hey, Ryan! Sorry, I didn’t hear the doorbell, but oh, good, they had one in stock! You’re the best. We have one somewhere, but I couldn’t find it, and it’s probably nasty from being in storage. Or I’m losing my damn mind, anything is possible!”

Harlow reaches over and touches Savannah’s arm, gently squeezing it before letting it go. “You are not losing your mind. Everyone misplaces things every once in a while, it’s perfectly normal.”

Alarm bells ring. “Are things still getting misplaced?” I ask both of them.

Savannah waves her hand away, dismissing my concern. “It’s nothing, Ryan. I’ve just been a bit forgetful lately and not always able to find things around the house. It’s probably just residual stuff from when Shane officially moved out. We only need humidifiers when someone is sick, so odds are Shane had put it somewhere or maybe even took it with him. Who knows.” She’s downplaying this, but I won’t embarrass her by pushing, not in front of her friend.

Theo mentioned this months ago—I thought that was resolved when the security system went through some update, and everything has been clean since.

But I will be following up with her and Vivian, who is thick as thieves with Savannah and will tell me the truth if something is going on or if it really isn’t a big deal.

The Callahan siblings are mighty in number and connection—but that’s not accidental. All of us are intentional with our relationships, and that includes keeping each other up to speed about our other siblings. It’s not like gossiping, although it can feel like that at times, it’s more like assessing the situation. To some, it may be odd how close we all are, but it’s how Mama raised us, and I think it’s wonderful.

Unless the girls get involved in our dating lives, then it’s less fantastic, but if a woman can’t hang with my sisters, then I don’t really want to waste my time investing in a relationship that doesn’t have a future when having my siblings in my life is a non-negotiable for me.

Our dad likes to tell the story of how we looked like a little army when we would play in the yard, but Mama would correct him that we were our own little cavalry—and just like that, The Callahan Cavalry had a nickname that would still be following us decades later.

We have each other’s backs no matter what, and sometimes, the biggest barrier turns out to just be our own egos or being willing to ask when we need help from our siblings. But when we do ask, we show up for one another, without question and without hesitation.

“Is Olivia home tonight or is she with her father?” Harlow asks Savannah, who grimaces at the question.

“She’s supposed to be with her father, actually, but he cancelled—again.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head in disgust. I’m right there with her, though. Shane hasn’t made those girls a priority, and that is so far from okay. I make a mental note to talk to my brothers about picking up the slack. Savannah’s daughters shouldn’t suffer because their dad is a selfish moron.

“She’s downstairs in the theater room with her sisters.” Savannah points to the door that leads to their basement.

“I’m just going to pop down and make sure it’s just allergies, just to be safe.” Harlow’s statement could be interpreted as a question by her tone, and she doesn’t move from the kitchen until Savannah responds.

“That would be great, actually, and I do think it’s just allergies, but better safe than sorry. I’ll walk down with you,” Savannah offers.

“I can show her the way, if you’re hosting.” I tilt my head to her patio where a group of women are seated around her outdoor dining table.

“I can find her, I’m sure,” Harlow insists.

“I don’t doubt that, but I would like to say hello to my nieces.” And apologize for their dipshit douche canoe for a father dropping the ball again.

“Oh, okay, that works,” Harlow squeaks, and I immediately smile at the noise.

She’s not only beautiful, she’s also charming in a completely unintentional way.

As I follow her down the stairs, I have to bite my lip to hold back the groan at the view of this fascinating creature in front of me.

Who is this woman? And is she still with the guy that was her date to Viv’s wedding?

And if she is … how serious are they—or do I still have a shot?

CHAPTER EIGHT

“And if anything else changes, you’ll have your mom text me, right?” I ask the eleven-year-old who would much rather watch the celebrity dance competition than talk about nasal pressure and congestion.