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I knock and wait. And wait some more.
The kitchen curtain twitches slightly, and the door swings open.
“Finn.”
“Hello, Lee,” I say. “Is Callie here?”
He doesn’t invite me in. He just looks at me.
“Let him in, Lee.”
That’s West’s voice, coming from somewhere back in the kitchen. Lee frowns over his shoulder but obeys, stepping back and opening the door wide.
West stands up from the table as I walk in. The scent of coffee wafts through the air, and my hand actually reaches for the cabinet before I remember that this isn’t my home anymore.
“Would you like some coffee?” Lee asks, all begrudging, blank-faced politeness.
“Yes, thank you,” I say. West’s eyes narrow. “Where is Callie?”
“She’s resting,” says West. “I don’t think disturbing her is a good idea. She hasn’t been sleeping well.” The implication in his voice is clear, and guilt kicks in immediately.
“Is she okay?”
“As well as can be expected under the circumstances.” He doesn’t give an inch, and I don’t blame him, even as I resent like hell that he thinks he can talk to me that way about my sister. Like it hasn’t been my job to care for her for fucking decades longer than he’s even known her.
“If you’re thinking about punching me again, I suggest you turn right around and head back the way you came,” says West.
“I’m not,” I say, accepting the mug Lee hands me with a nod of thanks. “That is, I was thinking about it. But I’m not going to hit you.”
“That’s a relief,” says West, all sarcasm.
“It is a relief,” says Lee.
“What are you doing here, Finn?”
“I’m here to apologize.”
The silence that falls is absolute. I keep my eyes on the clock on the wall behind Lee. It looks new, and I wonder if Lee and West had something to do with replacing the old one.
“You’ve got some fucking nerve,” says West finally. “Today of all days.”
“Today is all I’ve got.”
“West,” says Lee. West looks at him. They have a silent conversation with their eyes that I’m not privy to, and after a moment, West nods. Lee leaves the kitchen.
West stands up and walks across the kitchen to the door, not so much as glancing my way.
“I’m not sorry I hit you,” I say.
“I know,” he says, staring out the window.
“You deserved it.”
“I know that, too.”
“You did not deserve it,” says Callie. She stands at the threshold of the room, arms crossed tightly across her chest.
“Agree to disagree, sweetheart,” says West, finally turning, warmth coming into his expression. Lee comes in behind her, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. Callie smiles at him softly. She meets my eyes.
