Fallon
I waited until after dinner.
Mostly because I was trying to avoid another fight. And partly because I wanted him in a good mood — though I should’ve known better.
Reid Callahan’s default setting was cool detachment, and tonight was no different.
The house was quiet when I went looking for him. The kind of quiet that felt thick, like the silence between us had soaked into the walls, filling every corner with the weight of everything we weren’t saying.
I found him in his study, as always. The soft glow of the desk lamp cast long shadows, and the faint sound of his pen scratching against paper filled the space. His sleeves were rolled up, his tie discarded, and he looked so effortlessly composed it made my teeth clench.
It wasn’t fair — how calm he always seemed. How easy it was
