Page 62 of Goode Tidings

"Where it pertains to him, yes, it unfortunately makes sense."

"I end up juggling his emotions so that Oliver can have whatever Justin is able to give."

"It's not an accommodation for Justin?"

"What? Hell no. It's only for Oliver. I'd be perfectly content letting Justin be a problem for the rest of the world."

The fire grows taller, shadows of the flames flickering over Callum's scruffy face. He rotates the stemless glass in his grasp, watching the liquid sway. "I'm not sure how Justin ever landed a woman like you."

A flush of pleasure ripples through me. "The younger version of me didn't think much beyond how fun-loving Justin was."

Callum's knowing gaze meets mine. The firelight dances in his dark eyes.

I continue. "A woman like me, huh? What am I like?" I don't mean to fish for compliments, though I guess I am. I'm still tender after the soccer coach debacle. I've never felt so objectified. So used.

"Well." Callum coughs. Clears his throat. Looks like he'd rather be anywhere but here. "You're kind. And funny. And thoughtful. Generous. With the way you feed me, I mean." His words pick up momentum the longer he speaks, and now they tumble out. "And you're mischievous, I think, like your eyes light up when you're saying something you know is out of pocket. Creative, too. You're really freaking creative. And brave. Being a single mom, leaving behind the comfort of home for one year, quitting your job? Brave."

I stare out at the dark water, the surface clinging to the last colors of the sunset. My pulse pounds in my ears, a steady thrum as his words sink in. Does he really think all those nice things about me?

Callum is surly and fractured, but he's also observant with a softness that's startling. Or it was, anyway. It's not anymore. I know better, because I know him now. Maybe that's why I asked him what I'm like. I wanted to know what he sees, how he would describe me. I value his opinion. I want him to think well of me.

"Thank you," I say. It feels lame compared to everything he just said.

"I'm sorry," he says, sounding embarrassed. "If that was too much. Once I started talking, it—" He mimes something flowing from his mouth.

"I appreciated it. Really. It was nice to hear. I spend most of my time around a teenager, who, although very nice, is self-absorbed the typical amount. Not that it's his place or responsibility to boost my confidence."

"Everybody needs to hear somebody say something nice about them once in a while."

"When was the last time somebody said something nice about you?"

"I'm the exception." He gives me a serious look. "I don't need to hear that."

I pull a face. "So when you say 'everybody'?"

"I don't mean myself."

My lips press together as all that creativity I have gets to work in my mind. "I need to check on something," I say, shifting so I can pull my phone from the back pocket of my jeans. "Do you mind?"

Callum shakes his head. "Do whatever you need to do."

I spend a few minutes executing my creative little plan, then lay my phone face down on the arm of my Adirondack chair. "Have you checked your Goode Tidings submission inbox recently?"

Callum narrows his eyebrows suspiciously. "As part of my regular work routine, I checked it earlier this morning."

"Have you checked it in the last five minutes?" He's right. I can feel the way the mischief makes me effervesce. I don't need a mirror to know my eyes are lighting up.

Biting off a small smile, Callum opens his phone. Navigates to his email app. Opens one of the accounts listed. Briefly glances at me while tapping on the most recent email.

"Out loud," I say playfully.

Callum pauses. Clears his throat.

"To Whom It May Concern,

I'm writing to tell you that good men still exist. I recently met a man, let's call him Hot Squat. He had his heart broken in the worst way, and he retreated from the world to nurse his wound. He was only partially successful, because there's only so much a person can do when they're closed off from the world. To really heal, they need to expose themselves to the thick of it. And even though he's fearful, and even though he hides his softness with a calloused exterior, he's willing to try. This man who has had his faith in love demolished, is more courageous than anyone knows. He also has a nice butt, and we all know that can get a man far in the world.

Sincerely, Andes M."