Page 48 of Shades of Grey & Gold

“I stayed for a week, talked with my father, and I made sure they knew I wasn’t giving up on my own goals—I wasn’t giving up finishing my degree. But very,very slowly, calculated, my father weeded himself into my head during that last year. He was sick that whole year, but well enough to get to me. He was a distraction.”

Callan interned with a local law clinic helping low-income families that needed legal assistance in his third year of law school. I always thought that was why he was always a bit sad. That whole year is looking so different through this lens.

He would be up late, sometimes texting me randomly at two in the morning. Every morning since we met, I could count on Callan being up at five to go for a run, but those stopped altogether. He would sleep late, stay up late, and still somehow find time to meet to help me study for finals, bring me coffee. Callan had movie nights with me when Patrick denied me being his study-buddy. On weekends when Patrick would get drunk at random parties, I would stay at Callan’s to avoid drunk Patrick—who was always cruelest in his drunk state.

He found time for me in between all of his own problems. And I didn’t even know.

“Cal…” I whisper it, but he holds a hand up to stop me.

“It happened slowly at first, he’d ask my opinion on…” He pauses, meeting my eyes. “Business stuff. Just an opinion; advice here and there. Usually asking for my opinions on legal stuff, so it felt like maybe he was on board with my life choices, like he valued my education and the things I had learned. Then he started insisting I come home to accompany him to meetings because of his fragile state. I did a few times. A few more than I would’ve liked.”

I remember him disappearing randomly. I wouldn’t be able to get a hold of him, but I just assumed he was in the clinic, or studying for the bar the closer he got to graduation with his phone turned off. I didn’t think he had left town. He was always back and things were normal a day or two later.

“Then, he was announcing I was taking his place.”

A shake of his head and a long sigh later, “It was spring break. I remember Patrick went somewhere without you, but you had a girls’ week with a friend on campus.”

“I remember that. But you weren’t gone the whole break; I texted you and you showed up within like three hours of me texting. You weren’t out of town.”

I texted him because I had gotten drunk with a friend. Patrick had texted me that he was ‘out with the boys’ and told me there wasn’t any reason for me to text him if I was with my friends. He was an ass, and the fact that I was so blind to it grosses me out now. But I texted Cal saying something about my tears being a good substitute for salt with the tequila. He showed up later in the night with burgers, fries, and milkshakes.

He lifts his eyebrows, tilts his head to the side and smiles softly at me. “When you have a private jet, you can get anywhere pretty quickly.”

“You flew back because I drunk texted you?”

He leans forward, his arms crossed on the table, his fists clenched, his face like stone, serious and hard.

“I’ll always get to you, Max. That’s what I do. No matter what’s in the way, I’ll always get to you.”

The words wrap around me like a promise—and, impossibly, like a warning the universe hasn’t received yet. But then he continues talking, moving past the revelation faster than I’d like.

“So,” he leans back. “I was less than two months from finishing my law degree, and he thought I would just drop it all when he announced me as his replacement. But I couldn’t exactly say, ‘No, thanks,’ when he announced it to the entire—everyone.” His eyes are on mine again, and I catch my fingers fidgeting, quickly pulling them down below the table. “He died right before graduation. So, I graduated, went back home, took the bar, took over for him for a while, just as he planned it. But I didn’t want it. The business… it isn’t… I don’t want it.”

Callan reaches up, rubbing his forehead, pausing to squeeze his eyes shut in visible frustration.

“It’s not… God, Max. It’s—the business, it’s,” he pauses and pulls breath in, opening his eyes again. “Morally ambiguous.”

The words sink into my brain and I’m rolling my lips to stop a smirk from forming. How my mind is thinking of a joke right now, in this moment, is beyond me. I am seriously deranged.

My brain recognizes he is opening up and being vulnerable. It’s just… I can’t help myself, because a piece of me is just thinking—

“Are you saying it’s ‘morally grey’?” The widest grin cascades across my face, as I bite my bottom lip, and his eyes fixate on my mouth. “Are you… Are you a morally grey book daddy, Callan Reed?”

I press my lips together and hold back laughs. His eyes are sparkly again, and giggles bubble out of me. In the midst of these heavy confessions, he’s my Cal again. He rubs at his own smile, leaning his face into his hand briefly.

“You can’t be serious for five minutes, can you Max?”

“I was serious for most of this conversation so far, Mr. Reed,” I lean forward to whisper the last part. “But what you’re describing sounds like something out of a book.”

He lets out a gruff laugh, and, shaking his head, he lifts the glass of amber liquid to his lips again, taking a long swallow. His grin is still present, the light on his features a juxtaposition to the difficult story hanging in the air.

“Yeah, morally grey probably makes it sound better than it is. And that’s why I never wanted to be a part of it. I wasn’t meant for it—for the grey parts. Nico—my brother—he doesn’t mind the grey parts. I think he might actually love those parts,” his voice trails off and he raises his eyebrows while looking at the glass resting in his hand.

“But I did it. I took over, and I did it all, the good, the black, the grey. And I did those, uh… I did the,” he pauses with a cringe, “grey parts. I did them so well, I did it just how my father would have.”

My back straightens a bit as I lean back against the white leather seat. My heart pounds and my head spins.

I was kidding about the morally grey part.