Flight Risk (Antiques in Flight) (5 page)

Arms folded across his chest, his blue eyes stared at her with what she imagined was a look he’d honed in the FBI. It was the kind of look you gave criminals or scumbags. “Want to explain that little outburst?” he asked, his voice a calm contrast to the look.

“I’m sorry.”

Surprise softened the hard expression. “Well, that’s more than I got when you actually connected.” Then concern worked its way over his face and his arms dropped to his sides and Callie felt about an inch tall. “What’s up, Cal?”

“Just…” She would not cry. Not in front of Trevor. Not at all. She was not a crier. “Bad day.”

He cocked an eyebrow and she knew she wasn’t getting away without an explanation.

“Dana Caldwell is in charge of one of the permits we need for the fly-in. I’m supposed to get this permit, but Dana keeps finding ways to put me off.” Callie kicked a heel behind her and pulled off the stupid too-small shoe borrowed from Em. She repeated with the other foot until she stood in her bare feet on the grass.

“Wait a second. Dana Caldwell is Sheila Evans’s older sister.”

“I know.”

“The Sheila Evans who you—”

“I
know
. And I’m sure this is some sort of payback for all the horrible things I did to Sheila.”

“You didn’t do anything Sheila didn’t deserve or start. Except maybe the flyer with Sheila’s head on a cow’s body you hung all over the town.”

The laugh bubbled up past all the frustration and anger. Though the pit was still in her stomach, the edges around it were lighter. “I forgot about that one.”

“One of your best.” He grinned briefly before his expression turned serious. “It’s not legal for Dana to hold that against you and keep you from getting a permit.”

“Probably not, but she’s got last year’s disaster to use against me. We blocked a county road for upward of two hours. We’ve got a plan in place to fix the flow problem, but Dana’s got the upper hand. I just have to keep…” Callie swallowed hard. “Groveling.”

“Can I come the next time?” Trevor flashed another grin. “I’ve never seen you grovel.”

“Bite me. I’m going to change. Aren’t you supposed to be on your way home?”

Trevor glanced at his watch. “Shit. Yeah. Besides I can harass you about the dress tonight at dinner.”

“Oh, right.”

“In another situation I might feel sorry enough for you to let you off the hook, but you tried to throw a punch at me
and
I had to witness Shelby cry twice this morning before she left for school. I need reinforcements. Six o’clock. I’m cooking.”

“
You’re
cooking?”

“Yes. I discovered that if I make a really delicious meal for a woman, said woman will usually be impressed enough to sleep with me.” He winked before turning toward his car. “Not that I’m trying to sleep with you,” he called over his shoulder, still grinning. “Unless you wear that pink dress. Then I might consider it.”

She hefted a shoe at him, but he easily dodged it so it landed with a thump on the grass in front of his car.

It made no sense that she stood there smiling as he drove off.

Whistling, Trevor shoved a key into the deadbolt only to realize the door was unlocked. Shelby must have beaten him home. Damn. He couldn’t be the super-sensitive, great advice giver, but he wanted to at least be there when she got home from school.

It had been hard to leave AIF, though. For the first time in weeks he’d felt useful. He could forget about the dark shadows hanging around the Steele house, reminding him of things that would never be again. He’d smiled, sweated, enjoyed his day. Enjoyed it more when he got sight of Callie in the silly pink dress.

Trying to loosen his already-tensing shoulders, Trevor stepped into the living room. Shelby was standing by the ancient answering machine, her backpack still on her shoulders. When she looked over her shoulder at him, there wasn’t that soul-crushing sadness in her eyes.

Nope. She looked downright pissed.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.”

Shelby didn’t say a word, just hit a button on the answering machine.

“Steele.”
That was all it took for Trevor to recognize the voice of his boss, and realize whatever the man had to say Shelby had already heard, and whatever she’d heard meant he was in deep shit.

“This is Robbins. I’ve tried you on your cell a few times. No response. Probably no reception in the middle of nowhere. We need your signature on those LOA papers I emailed you two days ago. No Internet in Timbuk Nowheresville? Give me a call.”

Trevor remained silent after the beep, but as much as he wanted to he didn’t drop his gaze when Shelby turned to glare at him.

“I may not be up on all the FBI lingo, but I’m pretty sure LOA means leave of absence.”

Trevor shoved his hands into his pockets, tried to come up with a decent response. “Yeah.” It was the best he had.

“You told me you quit.” Her voice went up a decibel, wobbled, but she wasn’t crying. Yet.

“No.” He was digging himself a bigger hole, but how else could he respond? “I never said that.”

Shelby’s mouth fell open in silenced outrage.

“I never said I quit. You assumed—”

“Are you serious right now?” Her backpack fell to the floor with a hard thud. Anger was better than crying. Kind of.

“Shelby, come on. Let me explain.”

She stomped over to the couch and sank into it, folding her arms over her chest. “This better be good.” Her shoulders were back, those blue eyes a reflection of anger, and she looked so much like their mom in that moment his heart physically hurt.

Swallowing against memories of times his mother had uttered those exact words, Trevor sat down next to her. Did he have a good explanation? Not really. “I couldn’t just quit.”

“I don’t see why not.”

He rested his hand on her knee before she jerked it away. “The bottom line is I have to figure out what I’m going to do. I can’t live off of what Mom and Dad left. That’s for you.”

“But—”

“It’s a leave of absence. I’m not expecting you to be on your own once I go back. I’ve got it all worked out. We can keep the house; it’s paid off. You can come here whenever you want. On breaks and stuff, you’ll come stay with me in Seattle. The apartment is kind of small, but I can get a bigger one.”

“Seattle is half a country away. Pilot’s Point is my home.”

“I know.” Trevor patted her knee. “I know. Like I said, you can come back whenever you want. We can even do Christmas here. You can’t expect me to…” How did he say the rest without coming off the selfish older brother? Was it possible? Maybe that’s just what he was.

“I’m already giving up six months of my life, and I’m not doing any more undercover work all so I can be around if you need me.” Trevor shoved fingers through his hair, frustrated he couldn’t get through to her. Why couldn’t she see he had a life to lead that didn’t involve being her guardian?

Trevor let out a long breath. Could he be more of a dick? Still, the bottom line remained. Pilot’s Point had nothing for him. “I have a great job that I love. You won’t be here nine months out of the year and if you want a decent job, you won’t come back to Pilot’s Point after you graduate college. You have to see this is the best choice for both of us.”

When she was silent, he looked up. The anger on her face hadn’t subsided. If anything, it intensified. “You let me believe you were staying for good.”

Yes, he had. To protect her. Or because it was easier that way. “I thought that’s what you needed.” Her fists were clenched in her lap and Trevor knew his explanation hadn’t changed anything.

“I need the truth!” She jumped to her feet and stood in front of him, looking too young and vulnerable to be in his clumsy care. “I’m a mess right now, but I just lost my
mom
.” She fisted a hand at her heart, tears getting ready to fall. He couldn’t face them as she continued. “I’m eighteen, prom is in three weeks, AP tests in a month, then graduation. My mom is
dead
. I deserve to be a mess without you trying to shelter me with lies.”

“Shelby—”

“You’re a terrible brother, you know that?” She wagged her finger in his face. “I used to make excuses for you because you were so much older and because you wanted to get out so bad, but…” She waved her arms wildly in the air. “It’s you.” With every
you
she shoved a finger into his face. “You’ve always cared more about yourself, everyone else, over your family. For as long as I can remember Callie Baker has meant more to you than any of your own flesh and blood. And I think that’s horrible.”

She stomped over to her backpack and hefted it onto her shoulder. On her way toward the stairs she fixed him with the meanest glare he’d ever seen Shelby muster, worse than anything she’d ever given Callie.

“I hate you,” she said in a low, controlled voice, but the control quickly broke. “I hope you go back to Seattle tomorrow!” She stormed up the stairs, the rapid fire of her running footsteps soon punctuated by the loud slam of the door.

Trevor sat, not sure what to do. The words hurt. As much as he’d like to leave it at that, there was more to it. She was right.

Time passed and Trevor didn’t move. Part of him thought—hoped—Shelby would come back down. He knew he should go up to her, but a heavy weight kept him locked on the couch.

He’d underestimated how hard this was going to be, and he’d known it would be one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

Prom, AP tests, graduation, college.

Honesty, tears, distance, inferiority to the task.

His mother was gone and more than grief, he felt resentment toward all she left behind. That knowledge only made the guilt stab deeper, sharper.

After an hour of staring at a wall, rendered immobile by the intensity and conflict of emotion, Trevor forced himself off the couch. His cell service was patchy, so he used the home line to call Robbins and explain that no, he hadn’t checked his email, but yes Bumfuck, Iowa, did offer high speed Internet.

Then he’d gone to the kitchen to start dinner, but the sight of his mother’s kitchen, so meticulously kept, so ruthlessly white, left him feeling immobile and hollowed out all over again.

She wasn’t here to soothe away the problems. To make dinner, to keep the house freakishly clean. She was gone, but he couldn’t even grieve right. All those things she was supposed to do were now his responsibility. He didn’t have time to miss her.

When the doorbell rang, Trevor moved into the living room feeling like some outward force was moving his body. It wasn’t until he saw Callie on his doorstep that he remembered she was coming.

“Not one crack about the…” She trailed off, her brows furrowing into concern. “Whoa. What happened to you?”

“Callie, hey. Um, I’m sorry. I think we’re going to have to take a rain check on dinner.”

“What happened?”

Trevor let out a long breath. He didn’t know how to explain it. More, he didn’t want to explain it, because it meant admitting some crappy stuff about himself. “Shelby’s pretty pissed at me right now. I don’t think your presence at dinner would help the situation any.”

Callie leaned against the doorframe giving no indication she was going to go and let things be. “Why is she pissed at you?”

Trevor swallowed, but there was a discomfort in his throat that made it hard to complete the action. “She found out I’m on a leave of absence, not home for good.”

“Ouch.”

Trevor shook his head. “I guess it’s best it came out now.” Why was his voice so uneven, his hands not quite steady? He cleared his throat and tried to get a handle on what was working through him.

Callie rested her hands on his shoulders, but he still couldn’t pull together enough control to make out any more words. When she pulled him into a hug, he simply rested his chin on her shoulder and closed his eyes.

Real men didn’t cry. How many times had his parents stressed that Steeles didn’t cry? It was a horrifying thought that the lump in his throat was some kind of precursor to that. He’d just hold on to Callie until the feeling passed.

“Um, it’s going to be okay, you know?”

Leave it to Callie’s attempt at comfort to help him regain a little control. Trevor pulled back and managed a smile. “Sure.”

“I’ll go talk to her.”

He wanted to hug her again, because he knew that was the last thing she wanted to do. “No, not now.” He wanted to leave it at that, but as he turned into the house, the memory of Shelby’s words sharpened in his gut again. “She said I was a crappy brother.”

“That’s not tr—”

“No, it is true.” Trevor didn’t turn around to face Callie, instead he looked at the picture of his parents on the mantel of the fireplace. They smiled at him, and he felt those opposing forces that had driven him away. “Mom and Dad always put so much pressure on me. I got out whenever I could. I pushed them and Shelby away. I shut them all out. I hung out with you or got a job halfway across the country. I got tired of always having to be better. Sometimes I just wanted to be what I was.”

She rested her hand on his shoulder. “Let’s order a pizza, watch the game. Then one of us will go talk to Shelby.”