Real Love

"I'll stay with her," Landon said to Anderson, sitting on the edge of her bed. Anderson nodded and went back to his room.

"Everything is going to be okay," Landon said quietly, moving to her side to rub her back. "I know it doesn't look like it, but it will be. Trust me. You're not alone. There are a lot of people on Team Callie, ready to support you."

"Team Callie?"

"Something Grace came up with that helped me in the past," he explained. "It's all the people you can count on when you need help."

Callie nodded.

"I'll leave Scout with you. He will be happy to sleep in someone's bed again. I don't have nightmares since I sleep with Grace," Landon said, with a sigh.

He smiled at Callie and offered her his hand. She took it and smiled at him. Scout climbed to her bed and lay at her feet. Callie rubbed his head.

"Listen, I must go to Seattle tomorrow for my monthly check-up. Maybe you could come with me and talk with Doctor Michaels about what happened," Landon suggested.

"Oh, Landon! Your PTSD! I should have never come here. All this stress is the last thing you need. I feel so selfish. I'll tell Anderson to take me to a secure location..." Callie was now on the verge of tears.

"Shh... Callie. Relax. I'm doing much better now. I haven't had an episode in almost two years. I'm a husband and I'm going to be a daddy. I'm never going to send you away. It's not going to happen. I'm your big brother and your protector. Don't worry, I can handle a bit of tension."

"I wish this whole thing would never have happened," Callie whispered.

"I understand where you come from, sis. Dealing with the physical toll the attack took on my body was easy. The hardest part to deal with was the psychological effects. Doctor Michaels helped me with that, and he can help you, too."

Landon gave Callie one last squeeze before standing up. "Try and get some sleep. If not, don't be afraid to look for me. I've been up many nights because of my nightmares. And now, because Grace rolls over all night and wakes up to pee two or three times a night."

With that, Landon closed the door behind him.

Scout blinked at Callie innocently, eyes wide, and she clung to the dog as if he was a lifesaver.

++0++

"Are you really going to risk your sister's life?" Anderson asked Landon.

"We are going to Seattle."

"But—"

"No buts," Landon said firmly. "We talked about it last night. Callie needs professional help to deal with what happened to her. She is coming with me to talk with my psychiatrist."

"Driving to Seattle is too dangerous," Anderson replied, not giving up. "Give me a day or two and maybe...

"Hell no!"

Anderson's eyebrows flew up.

"I'm not a prisoner here... or am I?" Callie asked coldly.

"No, of course not, but it's in your best interests to remain here," Anderson said at once."

"I'm sure a quick drive to Seattle and back wouldn't be a problem," Landon interrupted, moving to his sister's side to add his support. "Callie was locked in a cage in a windowless basement for days. A short trip will do her good."

"I can't hide here forever," Callie argued. "I can't put my life on hold forever.

"That's a forty-five-minute drive. Too many things can go wrong."

Anderson had no doubt Callie deserved a break. In his eyes, she was a hero. She'd saved herself and those other women. But if his job had taught him one thing, it was that you don't always get what you want or deserve.

"I refuse to live in fear," Callie pushed.

"We are going with or without you," Landon stated firmly.

"What about your wife? Are you taking her with us in her condition? She could go into labor at any moment."

Landon hesitated.

"I'll stay with her," Dylan offered. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry, but I came into the cabin for coffee, and I couldn't help but overhear your conversation."

Grace rolled her eyes, and then she said, "I'm due in a month. I promise I won't go into labor. Dylan can drive us to Panoramic Point. I could use some fresh air and I'll take the dogs with us."

"I'll call if anything happens," Dylan promised.

"Sounds good to me," Landon finally said. He knew once Grace made a decision nothing would stop her.

Much to Callie's amazement, Anderson growled under his breath with frustration.

"Come on, Anderson, have a heart," Grace chided.

"Fine," he said curtly. "I'll go with you. But it's straight there and back."

"Thank you."

"I'll go fetch some things." Anderson rushed inside the cabin and came back a few minutes later, carrying some items in his hands.

"Put this on," he ordered, holding out a baseball cap and sweatshirt.

When Callie didn't immediately accept the items, he explained in the same tone of voice you'd to talk with a child, "It's to disguise your appearance."

Callie looked at her brother and he nodded to approve the idea. "Better to be safe than sorry."

She took the items, and quickly shrugged on the sweatshirt over her own clothes, then pulled the ball cap on her head.

"Tuck your hair under," Anderson instructed.

Callie took the hat off, caught her hair in a ponytail, twisted it around into a bun on top of her head, and then held it in place as she slid the hat over it. "Okay?"

"Why?" she asked with a frown.

"They might be watching Middletown exits. Have you forgotten that Sutton is looking for you because you killed his brother?"

Callie had guessed so already, but somehow, she had managed to push that fact to the back of her mind.

"So, he is looking for revenge..." she whispered.

Callie looked at Landon, and he pressed his lips together.

"Anderson..." Landon growled.

"She needs to know," the FBI man stated. "We should go," he said suddenly. "We're taking my car. It's faster and reliable."

++0++

"Landon, I put Callie on anti-anxiety meds and sleeping pills. Make sure she takes them. Make sure she sleeps a lot for the next couple of weeks, while her soul heals," Doctor Michaels offered a thin smile. "She's doing well, though. Callie has a rather impressive ability to block out pain."

Landon's shoulders slumped slightly. "How come?"

"Growing up poor, losing her father at a young age, witnessing your mother's struggles to raise the three of you, then you returning wounded and battling PTSD... your sister has developed incredible resilience," Doctor Michaels explained. "Must run in the family," he added with a wink.

"Thank you, doctor." Relief washed over Landon as the doctor offered reassurance. He shook Doctor Michael's hand, his heart filled with gratitude.

He returned to the waiting room where Callie and Anderson were waiting for him.

"All set?" Anderson asked, looking at his watch.

"All set," Landon agreed. "We can go."

As they walked out of the building, Callie went suddenly stiff. Anderson paused and scanned the area. "What is it?"

Callie was staring across the street. A man was standing in the afternoon shadow cast by the house across the street and she was sure it was Eddie. The shape and sheer size were his, but he looked different.

A chill ran up her spine.

"Callie?" Anderson moved up beside her and took her arm. "What is it?"

She glanced at Anderson briefly, and then back, eyes widening when she saw that Eddie was gone.

"It thought I saw someone," she said, letting her breath out slowly as Doctor Michaels had taught her.

She scanned the street, aware that Anderson was doing the same, but there was nothing to see then. It was early enough that the kids weren't yet home from school and the parents were still at work. So there were just a few cars, and some people walking their dogs.

"Sutton?" Anderson asked, still looking around.

A prickly sensation of fear crept up the back of Callie's neck.

"I thought it was him, but he looked different. My eyes could be playing tricks on me."

"Right," Anderson agreed mildly, but she could tell he didn't believe that. He was now stiff with tension. So was Landon.

Callie had convinced herself it was her imagination when Sutton had disappeared so swiftly.

Anderson's first impulse was to search around for him, but it took a few seconds to realize that was a bad idea. Sutton might have been baited to take him away to search while his partners in crime went after Callie. As much as he wanted to catch the bastard who had hurt those girls, Callie's safety came first.

He had a grim expression as he led Callie to the car.

Once she was safe inside the car, Callie did what she'd been avoiding doing and glanced around the street. Much to her relief, there was nothing and no one of note. Whoever it was, was gone. But gone where? She let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

They were all silent as Anderson drove away. He kept a sharp eye out on the way home, but hadn't seen anything to indicate they were being followed.

"Why did you join the FBI, agent?" Callie asked to distract herself.

Anderson gave a small shrug. "Every little boy wants to save the damsel in distress and be a hero when he's growing up. I guess I just never outgrew that," he said, lightly.

She wasn't amused as intended; instead, Callie frowned.

"Is that how you see me? As a damsel in distress?"

The question surprised a bark of laughter from Anderson, and he shook his head. "Hardly. I see you as incredibly brave and strong. You rescued yourself from that house. You didn't need a hero. You are one."

Callie looked uncomfortable and shifted in her seat.

CHAPTER 7

"We could stop at the mall for food," Callie suggested, her tone now wheedling. "There is a KFC on the way home. It would only take a couple of minutes and we can eat it out on the veranda. I'm sure Grace would enjoy that almost as much."

"You are impossible," Anderson muttered, under his breath with frustration.

He usually had no problem saying no. But Callie was a different matter. She saw 'no' as a challenge, and when she put her mind to it, she could be a real pain.

Rather than say no, he tried to reason. "Are you sure you want junk food, Callie? Your sister-in-law is pregnant, and she should be eating healthier. She has the baby to think of."

"Chicken is relatively healthy, certainly healthier than a burger, and that way Grace won't have to cook."

"My sister has a point there," Landon opined.

The last part was the nail in the coffin of Anderson's resistance. Callie was injured and still recovering, and Grace was pregnant and had been complaining of swollen feet.

Neither woman should be on her feet working in a kitchen. As for him, he didn't know a damned thing about cooking. It made stopping for dinner the logical solution.

Anderson liked logic.

"Very well. We'll stop for takeout at KFC," he said, and was rewarded with a smile from Callie. She winked at his brother.

When she smiled, he felt his own lips crack into a crooked smile in response, and then he quickly turned forward again.

++0++

"The food smells good," Grace said, as Callie set the bags of food on the kitchen table.

"I thought we could eat on the veranda," Callie suggested, cheerfully.

"Oh, that sounds nice." Grace clapped and followed Callie toward the back of the house with the Scout and Peaches trailing her.

Anderson and Landon followed both women. While they headed out onto the veranda, Landon stopped in the kitchen to fill one of the dogs' dishes with water and the other with food before joining them.

"Oh, that was nice of you. Thank you," Grace said. Grimacing, she added, "I should have thought of it myself."

"You were carrying the human food," Landon said, kissing his wife as he set the dishes on the edge of the covered veranda.

Straightening, he glanced at Grace, who was setting out the containers on the patio table. "I'll get drinks. What would you ladies like?"

"Orange juice for me," Grace said, picking up the second bag of food containing the two meals she hadn't set out. "Just a glass or I'll pee all night."

"We should invite Dylan," Callie suggested. "Where is he?"

"He is probably inside the RV checking the pictures he took at Panoramic Point," Grace explained. "We had a great time. He is a very nice guy."

"I'll do that," Callie offered, and hurried to the RV.

She knocked on the door and asked, "Dylan, may I come in?"

"Sure, it's open," a voice answered from inside.

Dylan was reviewing the pictures he had taken, on his laptop. Callie placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned down to take a closer look.

"Wow! These pictures are great. I've been at Panoramic Point many times and it never looked so beautiful. You are a very talented photographer, Dylan."

"Thank you, Callie, you flatter me. Panoramic Point is a breathtaking place, I just had to point and click. Having a great camera helps, of course. If I manage to sell my photos it will put Middletown on the map." He turned his head and looked into her beautiful green eyes. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Callie?"

"I came to invite you to have dinner with us: Landon, Grace, and Anderson."

"Anderson eats? I thought he was a cyborg or something like that," Dylan joked.

Callie didn't laugh. For some reason, she wanted to defend the FBI man. "He takes his job seriously, but he isn't a bad guy once you get to know him. He is actually caring and concerned."

"Excuse me?" Dylan asked, sounding surprised. "Caring and concerned, did you say? Are we talking about the same person?"

"He can be caring and concerned in his own way," Callie said firmly, crossing her arms. "He tends toward grumpiness, but I suspect it is just a shield, a way to keep others from getting too close. He is risking his life to keep me safe. I'm not making his job easy, but he doesn't complain."

She made a pause to gather her thoughts and then continued.

"He always has his guard up, and to keep people at arm's length. It makes me wonder why he feels he needs a shield to keep people at a distance."

When Dylan spoke, he did it in a very quiet voice. "Callie... Anderson is not a character from one of the love stories you read. I think you might be idealizing him."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You are projecting on him what you want him to be. You have pinned all of the attributes you want in a man onto him," Dylan explained.

"I think you're just jealous that I might be interested in him and not you."

Dylan showed her his palms. "I'm just pointing out that you can't love someone you don't know. You know nothing about the man. You don't even know his first name unless it's 'agent'."

Callie didn't find Dylan's joke amusing. She opened her mouth as if to continue the argument, but then let out a sigh and shook her head wearily.

"Well, you know nothing about me if you think I'm a dreamer living in fantasy land. Dreaming about love it's not an escape from reality, it's comforting. No matter how shitty your situation is, love can change your life for the best."

Dylan ran his hands through his hair as if his head hurt, before muttering, "In the real world, half of those relationships will end in divorce. Seventy percent will cheat on their partners. How does love win in the end?"

Callie wagged a finger at Dylan. "I'm not naïve. I'm aware relationships are complicated, for sure. I give you that. But love? Love is a fragile bud that needs constant care."

"Sounds like a Hallmark card," Dylan scoffed.

"Maybe," Callie countered, "but it's true. Love takes work. Even more work to keep it alive. People get caught up in careers, success, chasing that next big thing... They forget what truly matters. A fancy house is just bricks and mortar without love. It's the love that fills it, that makes it a home. We weren't rich growing up, not by a long shot, but our house overflowed with love. I saw it between my parents every day, the kind of love that endures. That's what I've always wanted."

Dylan stared out the window, a flicker of longing crossing his features. "Maybe..." he trailed off, his voice laced with uncertainty, "maybe you're right. You know," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "I had that kind of love with my fiancée. I'm not sure I'll ever find it again."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not a millionaire or a prince," he said, with a sad smile.

Callie looked at him wondering what Dylan meant.

"Or an FBI agent, for the matter," he added in a whisper. "Thanks for the invitation, Callie, but I'll pass on the dinner. I still must edit these pictures and see if I can sell them."

"Sorry for disturbing you," she said and rushed to the RV door.

As soon as Callie left the vehicle, Dylan closed the window with the photos he had taken revealing the desktop.

The wallpaper was a picture of Billie and Dylan. She was bald, but even so, she was smiling bravely to the camera.

"Or maybe, because true love is something that happens just once in a lifetime," he muttered, caressing the screen with the tip of his fingers. "Maybe she is not the one, Billie."

Almost immediately, Dylan heard the voice of his fiancée in his mind.

"Promise me, Dylan."

"You know I can't promise you anything like this! We're going to beat this! You're going to get well."

The expression on Billie's face was serious. "We both know that's not true, love. I don't want you to live the rest of your life alone. Promise me you'll open yourself to a new love when it comes knocking at your door."

Dylan was already shaking his head. "No, I won't because it means I'm giving up on you, and I'll never do that."

Billie's voice was now soft, "Promise me you'll try, at least."

"Why, Billie?"

"Because I love you, silly man. I want you to be happy and live that life I'll never get to live," Billie was openly crying now.

Dylan's vision blurred as tears filled his eyes. He touched the screen again, and whispered, "I promise, Billie."

++0++

"Is Dylan joining us?" Grace asked Callie, when she returned.

Callie stared at her and shook his head. "I don't think so. He is busy editing the photos he took."

Grace frowned, but said nothing.

"Come. We should best eat before the food cools," Landon said.

Scout ran into the woods followed by Peaches.

"Will the dogs be all right out there?" Anderson asked, with concern.

.

"Yes. Scout won't run off or anything. He stays close. He'll probably come looking for me after a while," Landon assured him. "Peaches always follow Scout."

"Your dog is well trained," Anderson countered, turning his attention to opening the lid of his meal and surveying the contents. It smelled amazing.

"He's a great service dog," Landon said, "I got him from a special program for vets."

Anderson nodded. "I would love to have a dog, but my hours aren't exactly regular, and I don't want to stick the poor thing in a cage for hours on end. And what would I do with it if I had to be away for days?" he added, with a frown.

"You're thinking of the dog first. That's the sign of a good pet owner," Landon said, approvingly. "A lot of people don't consider things like that when they get a dog. They want one, so they get it. Then they're upset and think there's something wrong with the dog when it isn't easily trained or pees in the house."

Anderson's first bite of the chicken was a revelation. It was delicious.

They all ate in silence.

From time to time, Callie cast a glance towards the RV. Grace noticed, but said nothing.

A satisfied sigh from Callie drew Anderson's attention from his nearly empty container. His eyebrows rose when she pushed her half-finished meal away and sat back in her seat.

"All done?" he asked, eyeing the chicken and fries remaining in the container.

"I'm afraid so. My stomach really must have shrunk. I'm stuffed," she said, and then offered, "Do you want to finish it?"