Free Inseverable: A Carolina Beach Novel by Cecy Robson Page B

floorboards greet my feet as my stare travels to where a thick shaggy rug lies between a flat stone fireplace and comfy-looking brown couch. Despite the multiple tools lining the far wall, the dustpan filled with wood shavings in the corner, and all other evidence of his ongoing renovation projects, Callahan’s house is clean and homey.
    “This is really nice,” I say. “You’ve done such a beautiful job bringing it back to life.”
    “You’ve been in here before?” he asks.
    “Just once with my momma. We stopped by with a few casserole dishes when we heard your uncle was sick, but only stayed long enough to bring the food in.” I smile softly. “He was sweet, but he didn’t seem up for company and we didn’t want to impose.”
    I point ahead to the open kitchen. “I remember there was a wall there before, separating it from the family room. I like it better this way. There’s more light.”
    “Yeah. Me, too,” he admits, growing quiet.
    I’m not sure what Callahan’s thinking, all I know is that he seems so sad. Maybe he misses his uncle, or maybe it’s more than that. I scan the area, searching for something to draw his attention away from his thoughts and hopefully onto something better.
    My eyes fall on a guitar perched on top of a brown and cream striped recliner. “You play?” I ask.
    “I never had any formal training, and I don’t know how to read or write sheet music. “He steps toward it. “But I do know a few songs I learned by ear.”
    “You learned by ear?” I ask.
    His focus hones in on my face, but then he looks away. “That’s right.”
    “Well then consider me impressed,” I say. I laugh, mostly to myself. “I can’t read or write music either, but my brother taught me a few songs I can play well enough.”
    His brows knit together. “You play, too?”
    “Just a couple of songs. Don’t ask me about chords or anything technical. I never committed to learning, so there’s a lot I don’t know.”
    He nods like he understands, stepping around me and into the kitchen. He opens the door to a stainless steel refrigerator. With a smile that doesn’t quite want to leave me, I watch him fumble through the contents.
    “You want some sweet tea?” he asks.
    “Ah, sure. If it’s not too much trouble. I don’t want to be a bother.”
    It’s my last comment that momentarily freezes him in place. I cover my mouth as I slip onto a bar stool at the raised granite counter, doing my best not to full-out laugh. In an effort to settle, I skim the ceiling. Wires hang through the holes drilled directly above me. “What’s going on up there?”
    “Drop-down ceiling lights,” he answers. He walks around the counter and places a glass full of iced tea in front of me, taking a seat to my left. “But I can’t put them in until I’m done rewiring the house.
    “Mmm.”
    I lift the glass and take a big sip. As I swallow, all forms of death find their way into my stomach.
    “The room’s too dark come sundown,” he continues. “So I figure―” He does a double-take when he sees me. “What’s wrong?”
    I sprint to the sink and blast the water, trying to rinse the poison he’s given me from my mouth. Despite my valiant efforts, I can’t cleanse my tongue of the wickedness plaguing it. Callahan rushes to me, gathering my ponytail as I cough and gag.
    “You okay?” he asks. “You sick?”
    I glance up to where the glass remains perched on the counter, its contents appearing to mock me. “What did you give me?” I point to the glass. “What was in that?”
    Callahan lets my hair slip from his fingers. “Sweet tea,” he answers, frowning. “You didn’t like it?”
    No. It was brown-colored evil . Of course, I don’t tell him that. “Um. It was filling.”
    “Filling?”
    He returns to the fridge and pours an extra-large helping of that crap into a large glass. “You know what your problem is?” he begins.
    I have taste?
    “You blow things out of proportion,” he says,