Page 176 of Secrets Hidden In The Glass

She sat down and flipped to the next blank page in the pad, then pulled the pencil from the coiled wire binding, letting her mind wander wherever it chose. Moments later a face appeared on the paper—the eyes and cheekbones were different from hers, but the nose and chin were very much the same. She added more detail to the eyebrows she’d seen a million times in the mirror and set down her pencil as she stared at the woman who had been her mother. “Samantha,” she whispered, fighting to remember something about her—any small detail that would bring her to life—but there was the usual blank void. Callie had two pictures and video footage to document a time that seemed to have never existed. She’d spoken to the beautiful blond wearing the red sundress on the Fourth of July—hugged her and shared vanilla ice cream. Maybe they’d laughed together the day she sat in the swing at the city park, yet she had no idea.

Closing her eyes, she struggled to recall the night at the diner, thinking of the details Ms. Battleman had shared, desperate to fill in the blanks and feel her mother’s arms around her when she told her goodbye. Samantha must have said goodbye, but again, there was nothing.

She huffed out a defeated breath as she looked down at her drawing, absorbing the familiar waves of longing and hate, and was startled to discover that she yearned far more than she loathed. Her mind raced, messy mixes of emotions vying for first place in the deafening quiet. Chucking the pad across the room, she burst into tears.

“Callie?”

Her gaze flew to the half-open door, where Nate stood in his gray hoodie and blue jeans. She gripped the arms of the chair, realizing that her first instinct was to run to him, to hold him close, and let him make everything okay again—that he was the only one who could. Lately that had been acceptable—to allow him to soothe away the worst of her pain—but tonight, when she was at her most vulnerable, the idea of depending on him so deeply was simply terrifying. “I just—I need a minute.”

He walked to her, crouching down in front of her, resting his hands on her knees. “Did you have another dream?”

She shook her head, sucking in a breath, determined to compose herself, even when everything felt like it was falling apart.

“You were drawing.”

She wiped her cheeks, refusing to touch him when that’s all she wanted, needing to show herself that she could make it through this alone. “Yes.”

He reached across the floor, picking up the pad and studying the image before he looked at her.

“No matter what I do I can’t remember her. I know her name. I know exactly what she looks like, but I can’t remember her. I need to but I don’t.”

He sighed, taking her hand, lacing their fingers.

She pulled away. “What if we can’t find her? What if she’s not even alive and she’s never anything more than a face on a piece of paper?”

“That’s a possibility—”

She huffed out a breath and rushed to her feet. “God, Nate. Why can’t you humor me—lie to me and tell me what I want to hear for a change?”

“Because you deserve more than that.” He stood, pulling her closer and sliding his hands along her arms. “I owe you that—to be straight with you. Because when I tell you I’m doing everything in my power to find her, I never want you to doubt that I’m telling you the absolute truth.”

The tears were back—in a torrent of confusion and sorrow and shame. “I’m sorry, Nate. I’m so sorry I spoke to you that way.”

“Come here.”

She held on to him, settling her head on his shoulder when she’d assured herself she wouldn’t—that she didn’t need to. “Everything’s such a mess.”

He stroked his fingers up and down her back. “I know it is.”

“Everything feels worse tonight.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“I’ve lived all these years without her. I’ve been fine without her, but now I’m not.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“I don’t want any of this.” She eased back, staring into his eyes. “I reach for you in the night. I don’t know where I begin and you end anymore.”

“Callie—”

“We’ve been taking things a day at a time. I can deal with that, but I need you, Nate. I truly need you.”

He sighed.

“Not all that long ago you popped your head out from beneath the kitchen sink. Now I can’t imagine having to live without you.” And she’d never been more petrified of anything.

He tucked the hair back from her face. “Does it help that I feel the same way?”

She shook her head.

“Then I guess we should probably keep taking things a day at a time.”

“I guess so,” she whispered, wrapping her arms back around him and closing her eyes as she breathed him in, surrendering and letting him make everything okay again.