Page 31 of Chasing Callie

Knox nods slowly, and I can see him already retreating back into himself, calculating, overthinking everything.

Brax stands and claps a hand on Knox’s shoulder. “Just tell her the truth, man. That’s all any of us want.”

It seems so simple when Brax says it like that. But I know better. There’s a decade of silence and pain between us. Will Knox talking to her be enough to break that wall down? I fucking hope so.

“Don’t fuck this up.”

The unspoken hangs between us: because if you do, we might never get her back and one way or another, Callie Mae has always belonged with us.

Chapter Thirteen

CALLIE

My relationship with the summer festival is complicated. As a kid, it was my favorite thing about Big Ridge. The smell of funnel cakes, the twinkle lights strung between trees, and the way the whole town comes together like one big family to put it together. As I got older though, I realized it was yet another way the residents of Big Ridge pandered to the tourists.

I can’t be too mad though, tourism is what keeps Big Ridge alive. I only hate it because there’s so much more to this mountain town than the tourist shops. The lakes, the rivers you can wade in if you’re okay with freezing your feet off, the fog that slithers through the mountain peaks.

Somehow, tourism in Big Ridge went from being about nature to yet another way for people to consume in excess. I think I’d be more okay with the tourism if people kept to hiking, camping or fishing. But they infiltrate our streets and with them come big corporations buying up properties for bespoke shops that’ll run small businesses into the ground.

Mom hums along to an old Fleetwood Mac song playing from a portable speaker as we stretch a plastic table runner and place it on a newly stained picnic table.

“These tables came out nice,” I say, smoothing my hand over the tablecloth as Mom grabs whatever is next. Someone refurbished them for the festival. I have an inkling of who that someone might be before Mom confirms it.

“Knox and his brothers fixed them up. They do it every year now.”

My stomach somersaults at the mention of them. It’s been impossible to forget they exist. They’re everywhere. In my memories, in town, at work, even in my mom’s heart.

“The boys are good to this town,” she continues, oblivious to my inner turmoil. “Their daddy would be proud.” She blinks back tears. Our families were close.

I swallow hard, still processing the fact that Frank Williams is gone. “I wish I’d known,” I murmur, more to myself than to Mom. Mr. Williams did so much for Big Ridge. Fixed up cars without charging an arm and a leg, helped ensure everything was functional for summer festival, built tables for new families that couldn’t afford them. He made me and the boys a tree house, too.

Mom pauses, a stack of dessert stands in her arms. “That was my fault. You said you didn’t want to hear anything about the Williamses, and I assumed that meant Frank too.”

“How could you not know that’s something I’d want to hear?”

She frowns. “You were so upset when you left, Cal. Completely heartbroken.” Her voice catches. “Maybe I was wrong to keep it from you, but I thought you were finally happy, and I didn’t want to be the one to ruin it after everything you went through.”

I get it. I wasn’t exactly rational when I left and how I’d react to their names. I’m not mad at her, more mad at myself for being so closed off. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

“Baby, you don’t have to be sorry. You were only trying to protect yourself.”

Before I can respond, a familiar voice sends shivers shooting down my spine.

“Morning, Sally Mae.” The deep timbre of Knox’s voice strokes familiar longing within me, but I shut it down. He betrayed me. I keep my back to him, focusing intently on centering the tablecloth like it’s the most important job in the world.

“Knox,” Mom greets him warmly. “Just the man we need. These display stands are getting too heavy for these old bones.”

I can practically hear the smile in his voice. “Your bones aren’t old, Sally. I bet you could still out work half this town.”

Mom laughs, and I hate how natural it sounds. Like nothing changed. Like he didn’t destroy my life. Whose side is she on? The silence stretches, and I can feel both of them looking at me.

“I need to check on those pies in my car,” Mom says suddenly. There are no pies. “Callie, why don’t you show Knox where to put the stands?”

My head whips around. “Mom!”

But she’s already walking away, throwing a wink over her shoulder that she doesn’t even try to hide. Traitor.

I grab another tablecloth, refusing to look at Knox as I walk to the next bare table. From my peripheral vision, I see him set the stands down on one table. I ignore him and unfold the tablecloth and toss it on top of the table. Knox grabs one of the corners on the opposite side before I can stretch it out myself.