Best Two Out of Three

Part 16

Saturday, August 1, 2020
Adam and Callie's house – Aaron's Creek, Virginia

When Callie arrived back at the house from her run, she'd expected to hear the lawnmower. The grass was getting bad, and she'd asked Adam last night to please cut it that morning before it got too hot. But as she walked up the front porch and back into the house, it was silent. Too silent.

She pulled out her ear buds and set them with her phone on the kitchen island before marching upstairs to their bedroom. It was nearly 11, and if he was still asleep—

But when she burst into their bedroom, she found their king-sized bed empty and unmade. Her brow furrowed. She glanced toward the master bath; that was dark and empty, too. She turned and went back downstairs, searching through the house. He wasn't in the den or the garage, or anywhere else that she could see. Finally, she peered through the sliding glass door into the backyard. Anger bubbled up inside her. Adam sat at the patio table, an open beer can in his hand.

The glass door gave an angry whir as Callie slid it open. Adam didn't even so much as glance in her direction, too occupied with his phone. "Are you seriously drinking? It's not even eleven, Adam."

"It's Miller Lite," he dismissed with a roll of his eyes. "It's practically water."

Callie's eyebrows arched. The question flew out of her mouth before she could stop it. "But is it your first?"

Adam's gaze flicked up to meet hers. "Are you serious?"

For a moment, Callie was struck dumb by the darkness in his eyes. They held a storm of emotion—anger, hurt, betrayal. He'd never looked at her like that, and a wave of regret surged up through her. But she steeled herself against it. As much as it hurt her to see him in such a state, she knew it would only get worse if she didn't say something.

"Yes, I'm serious," she returned. "I know you're upset about all the shit with Kenny and Alex, but it's getting out of hand, Adam. You've been drinking more and more the last few weeks. I don't think I've seen you without a drink in your hand since we got back from Jacksonville. Do you know how many empty beer cans and whiskey glasses I've cleaned up the last few days?"

He looked back down at his phone. "Well, no one asked you to clean them up," he bluntly returned with a sip of his beer. It stunned her again. And then, it angered her.

"No, they didn't," she shot. "But I guess I'm the only one around here who cares. Do I need to mow the lawn, too?"

Adam abruptly slammed the beer can down onto the table, making Callie flinch. When he spoke, his voice came out eerily calm. "I'm a grown-ass man, Callie. Don't talk to me like I'm a child in my own damn house."

He stood up and stalked toward the patio door, not looking at her as he passed. She followed after him as he went inside. "Babe, please just talk to me."

"I really don't want to," he said, moving toward the garage.

"Why not?"

He whirled around to face her. "Because I just don't! Okay? Just let me deal with my shit how I want to deal with it!"

He glared down at her, and the look on his face sent Callie's heart into her throat. If his eyes had been dark before, they were downright unrecognizable now. This wasn't the man she'd fallen in love with. She didn't know who this person was.

"Well if this is how you want to deal with it, then I don't want to be around it."

She pushed past him and grabbed her phone off the kitchen island and her keys off the hook on the wall next to the garage door. Tears filled her eyes as she left and climbed into her car. She wasn't sure what hurt worse: knowing that Adam was hurting, or knowing that he didn't want her help to take away the pain.