Текст книги "The Redemption of Callie and Kayden"
Автор книги: Jessica Sorensen
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
haven’t talked about what happened and it needs to be talked
about. Because I don’t understand any of it. All I want is to go
somewhere and talk so I can ask him all the questions I have
bottled up in my head for the last months.
Seth raises his glass in the air to make a toast. “I say, from
now on, or at least for the next couple of days, we let the niceness
be.”
Luke heaves a heavy sigh and tolerantly stretches his arm,
bringing his glass up to Seth’s. “As long as we’re not sitting around in the house, I’m all for the niceness.”
Kayden still keeps hold of my hand, and using his free one,
lifts his glass up. “I’m in.”
They all look at me and I feel tinier than I already did.
Wrapping my fingers around my damp glass, I sigh and tap it
against theirs. “Fine, but no trouble.”
Seth giggles. “Darling, trouble is my middle name, so just roll
with it.”
Luke snorts and even Kayden cracks a smile. But I keep
frowning because it feels like we’re running away from our
problems. If I’ve learned anything in my life, it’s that running away from them only allows them to chase you.
“To the niceness,” Seth says and clinks his glass against ours,
spilling a little soda onto the table.
“To the niceness,” the three of us mutter and our glasses
collide, making a promise I’m not sure we’ll all be able to keep.
Even though I’d like to believe that the next few days will be filled with laughs and giggles and sunshine, I’m worried a storm may roll
in.
Chapter 11
#45 Don’t let the man bring you down
Callie
“Seth, I don’t think I can do this.” I’m super squirmy as I take
in my reflection in the mirror. My skin is pallid and even though
the dress goes to my knees, I feel naked. The straps barely cover
my shoulders and I’m showing more skin than I’ve shown in the
last six years. The freckles on my skin are exposed, along with my
boney collarbone and somewhat flat chest. Even the sandals on my
feet make me feel bare. And my hair is down, which I’ve never
been a fan of.
“I look weird,” I say, tugging the bottom of the dress down.
“And… naked.”
Seth shakes his head as he steps back to examine me. His
hair is swept to the side, with a slight fluff in the front. He has on a pair of tan shorts and a gray button-down shirt with the sleeves
rolled up. “You look beautiful.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t think I can do it.”
“Of course you can,” he says simply, turning back to the
mirror.
I shake my head. “Seth, why are you so dead set on this?”
He’s fiddling with his hair and pauses. With a determined
look on his face, he turns away from the mirror and looks at me.
“Callie, I’m dead set on it for the reason you aren’t. You have to let it go. I know it’s hard, but you need to move forward—we all need
to move forward and let go of the past.”
“Is that what you’re doing?” I ask. “Because it feels like you’re
running away from something.”
“I’m not running away from anything.” He fastens the bottom
button on his shirt. “I let go of the running away the day I started
dating Greyson. It was like I’d been freed from the fear of what
happened and I finally could be myself again.”
“But how do you forget what happened?” I wonder,
smoothing the wrinkles out of the dress with my hand. “How do
you not think about it?”
He gives me a small smile and sets his hands on my
shoulders, looking directly into my eyes with a fire of
determination. “You don’t forget. You just move past it. Let go. Be
who you were supposed to be instead of who they make you feel
like you should be.”
“But how do I divide the two of them,” I say, letting my hands
fall to my side. “Because sometimes I feel like they mix. Like right
now. It feels wrong how I’m dressed, but I don’t know if it’s
because I’m associating the dress with what happened or because I
just don’t like dresses.”
The corner of his mouth tips up and then he kisses my
forehead. “Wear it and find out.”
He backs away from me and walks over to his bag that’s on
the twin bed. He pulls out a bottle of cologne, takes the cap off,
and douses his shirt in it. I head over to my bag and quickly skim
the letter I wrote to Kayden. I’m still unsure of what it revealed and I’m debating if I should run away from it or embrace it. Maybe it’s
time to face the inevitable.
“Oh, I forgot to ask.” He clicks the cap back on the cologne.
“What did you wear underneath that dress?”
I bite down on my lip, battling my embarrassment because I
did wear the black lacy panties he made me buy. “Nothing.”
“Oh, you decided to go commando?” he says with a devious
grin. “That’s even better.”
I let my lip pop free and a smile sneaks through. “You know
that’s not what I meant.”
“I know.” He winks at me. “But it was funny.” He chucks the
cologne back into his bag. “Are you ready to do this?”
I glance at the mirror, noting the vastness in my eyes—they
take up my entire face. Sure, I trusted Kayden to see all of me, but
I’m uncertain about the world, because it’s big and scary and
always shifting. One minute it feels like home and the next, distant
and unfamiliar.
I submit though and Seth opens the door for me. My knees
wobble as I amble out into the kitchen where Luke and Kayden are
laughing about something at the table. There’s a tall bottle filled
with a brownish liquid sitting on the table. When I step closer I
realize it’s a bottle of Jack Daniels. There’s also a lit cigarette in Luke’s hand and smoke is filling the air.
I halt in the doorway, watching how Kayden’s eyes light up
every time he says something. I wonder if he’s drunk because he’s
gone from sad to happy in a matter of a couple hours. There’s a
huge smile on his face and his eyes are a little glazed over.
“Drinking already?” Seth rubs his hands together, looking
eager as he swings around me, bumping into my shoulder. I grab
hold of the countertop to catch myself and then step to the side so
I’m slightly hidden behind the counters.
Kayden’s eyes brighten when he sees me and I know right
then and there that he’s buzzed. “Yep, we thought we’d get started
early,” Kayden says to Seth as he picks up the bottle and hands it
to him. His eyes lock on me and I’m thrown back to all the fun
moments we had together, the ones that leave me hope even
though things look grim right now.
He smiles as he pushes up from the table, the legs on the
chair scraping against the tile. He takes long uneven strides as he
curves around the table and Seth steals his seat.
Kayden’s hair is styled and flips up around his ears. He has
on a dark gray shirt and a pair of loose-fitting jeans that hang at
his hips. He’s also put a few leather bands on his wrists to try and
cover up the bandage on it and his face is clean-shaven, which
makes me worry because that means he had to use a razor.
“Hey,” he says as he crosses the kitchen in long strides and
winds around to the cupboard area.
“Hey,” I reply, rotating around, so I’m facing him and my
back is pressed into the edge of the counter. I give a fleeting
glance at his arms, checking for fresh wounds. Everything looks
great, except I can’t see underneath the bandage.
He abruptly stops and his forehead creases as his eyes lazily
scroll up my body, lingering for a moment on my chest before
resting on my eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear a dress.”
I shake my head with my elbows bent and my fingers
gripping the counter. “That’s because I haven’t. Not for a long time
anyway.”
His gaze is relentless and makes me grow fidgety. Finally, his
eyes lock on mine and even through the subdued sea of alcohol, I
see the real Kayden still lives on the inside. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I say quietly and tuck a few strands of my hair
behind my ear. “I think—”
His lips come crashing down on mine and I suck in a deep
breath through my nose as my legs start to give out. His warm
tongue enters my mouth and he tastes like Jack and smells like
cigarette smoke. His hand grabs my waist and he holds my weight
up as our bodies crush together. He angles us back, our legs
entwining, and my heart knocks in my chest. The edge of the
counter jabs at my back, but I don’t care. All I care about is him.
My hands slip up his strong arms and knot through his hair.
In the back of my mind, a rational voice is screaming at me to stop,
because he’s drunk and confused and I need to stop it.
“What are you doing?” I slant my head back a little. “I
thought you needed us to be friends.”
“I do,” he assures me, sounding choked up and then his lips
touch mine. I’m trying to pull away, yet at the same time I’m
pulling him to me. I’m conflicted. Muddled. I’m a terrible person.
His long fingers spread around my hips and his fingers dig
into my skin as he picks me up and sets me down on the
countertop. My head bangs against the cupboard as his hands
move around to the front of my thighs and he splays my legs
open. Moving between them, his fingers sliding farther up my legs
until his thumbs are grazing the sensitive inner section. For a
moment, I forget where I am and who I am and open up my legs
wider, allowing him to get closer.
“Um, I hate to break this up.” Seth’s voice slaps me back to
reality and I instantly jerk away, panting and slamming my head
against the cupboard again. “As much as I love you guys, I’d rather
not see how far this is going to go. You guys should probably save
the groping for later, when you’re alone.”
Kayden rests his head against my shoulder, breathing
abundantly, and his body is tense under my hands. “Sorry,” he
whispers to my collarbone and then he’s pulling away, leaving me
more exposed than I already was.
I blink my eyes and adjust my dress as far down over my legs
as it will go, and then I hop off the counter. I run my hands
through my hair, trying to fix it in place, and I struggle not to cry from the stabbing sensation in my heart.
Seth arches his eyebrows at me. “See, dresses aren’t so bad.”
I press my lips together, because it’s not funny, and yet it is.
“I guess not.” My mouth sinks to a frown. It aches in every part of
my body. All I want is to be with him in a stress-free situation
where we can enjoy one another, be real, be us.
His shoulders move up as he lets out a low laugh and then
extends his hand out to me. “Come on, baby girl.” He touches my
bottom lip that’s pouting out. “Don’t let the man get you down.
Let’s go have some fun.”
I nod and follow him into the kitchen area and we stop
beside the small wicker table. Seth’s carrying the bottle of Jack in
his hand and he swings his arm around toward me, offering it to
me. “Here, this will relax you.”
I glance around at Luke and Kayden waiting by the screen
door, and then back at Seth. “That’s okay. Someone needs to
drive.”
Luke shakes his head, smiling as he rubs his hand across his
cropped brown hair. He has a loose-fitted red shirt on and a pair of
worn jeans. “I’m having a weird sense of déjà vu, because I’m
pretty sure you said the same thing that night we went to the
club.”
“I did,” I admit, flipping my hair off my shoulders. I don’t
know if it’s the night’s heat or the kiss, but I’m suddenly very hot.
“But what are we going to do? Take a cab everywhere?”
Luke nods as he picks up his phone and rises from the chair.
“Already taken care of. One should be here in, like, five.”
Seth wiggles the bottle in front of my face and the liquid
inside splashes against the glass. “Come one, relax.” He leans in,
lowering his voice. “You need to relax, Callie. You’ve been so
stressed out lately.”
He’s right. I have been stressed and I want to relax—to
forget for just a second about the unbearable weight on my
shoulders. I grab the bottle from him and without any preparation
put the glass to my lips and tip back my head, gulping way too big
of a swallow. My gag reflexes instantly kick in and I drop the bottle as I clutch at my chest.
Kayden’s arm dashes forward and he catches the bottle
before it hits the floor. “Holy shit,” he says and then steps up
beside me to pat my back. “Take it easy.”
I cough and fight the urge to vomit. I’m not a big drinker and
I usually take it in small doses. “I went a little overboard,” I say
between coughs, with my hand pressed against my chest.
He smoothes my hair back with his hand and his palm lingers
on my cheek. He keeps touching me, yet he acts like he shouldn’t.
I’m confused and choking and I just want to be free again. “Callie,
you don’t need to drink if you don’t want to.” He says it so quietly
only I can hear him.
I stand back up and straighten my shoulders. “I know. And
that goes for you too.”
He eyes me over and then his throat muscles work as he
swallows hard. “Here.” He hands the bottle to Seth and hurries
toward the door, pushing it open. He steps outside and the door
slams shut, leaving the three of us lost and confused. I don’t know
what to do or if I should follow him. I have no idea what he needs.
Suddenly, I realize I don’t know much about him at all.
Kayden
She thinks I’m mad at her, but I’m not. I’m mad at myself. For
coming here. For kissing her. For touching her the way that I have.
She deserves better. I’m not even strong or good enough to stay
away from her.
I strategically make Luke and me sit in the front of the cab so
Seth and Callie have to sit in the back. That way I can cool down
and stop thinking about her in that damn dress. All I want to do is
take her back to the house, rip it off, and make love to her again.
But I need to stop thinking about that. And I need to stop drinking
because it brings out the feelings I’m trying to keep locked away
inside my steel heart.
Luke and Seth keep passing the bottle of Jack back and forth
and taking shots with their heads tucked low so the cab driver, a
younger man with long hair and a goatee, won’t see. Seth offers it
to Callie a few times, but she shakes her head and declines each
offer. She hasn’t looked at me since we left the house and she
keeps fiddling with the straps on her dress as she stares out the
window. The sky is dark and the Christmas lights light up the street
and glow into the cab and in her eyes. Her eyes look sadder than
they did when I first met her, if that’s even possible.
There’s some sappy song playing on the stereo. Some guy’s
singing about love and I find myself wanting to stab my eardrums
or at least make a few cuts to my skin. I don’t want to think about
love or what it means to me. I don’t want to think about anything.
I’m about to ask Luke to pass me the bottle when the cab
pulls up in front of a tall brick building wedged between similar
buildings. There’s a crowd lined up in front of it and the music
playing from inside can be heard all the way to the curb.
Luke takes some money out of his wallet, hands it to the cab
driver, and then glides the door open. “You guys are paying for the
drinks.” He hops out and I shake my head as Seth slides over and
climbs out.
I wait for Callie, but she doesn’t move. When I finally dare to
glance over my shoulder at her, I find that she’s watching me. I rest my arm on the back of the seat and twist my stomach so I can turn
to face her.
“Is everything okay?” I ask her.
She brings her bottom lip into her mouth and shakes her
head. “No.”
I fight the urge to touch her. “What’s wrong?”
She releases her lip and slides to the edge of the seat. “I
don’t know who you are.”
My jaw nearly drops to the ground. “What?”
She lets out a shaky breath as she swings her feet out of the
cab. “I don’t know who you are. Not really, and it hurts.” She
doesn’t say anything more as she climbs out, pulling at the bottom
of her dress, and joins Seth and Luke on the curb.
I don’t know how to feel about what she said. I’ve told her
more than anyone else. But really, when I think about it, I’ve told
everyone else nothing and her the bare minimum. My boots scuff
against the gravel on the road as I slam the door. The cab drives
off, tires skidding, and I’m left standing on the curb.
Callie has taken ahold of Seth’s arm, but I can’t tell who’s
holding onto whom. Luke is already reaching for his cigarettes and
pops one into his mouth. We walk up to the end of the line and
Luke flicks the lighter and the paper burns. People are talking,
laughing, having fun, but the inside of my head is twisting.
She doesn’t know me.
She really doesn’t.
And that’s because I won’t let her.
Suddenly I feel like an asshole. I owe her an explanation for
why she found me bleeding out on the floor.
I’m stuck in my own head as the line moves forward and we
walk inside the building. Luke found an eighteen-and-over club so
we don’t need fake IDs to get in. As soon as we step over the
door’s threshold, the atmosphere becomes suffocating. There are
too many damn people crammed tightly into the small room. The
air is stifling, but luckily there’s no smoking allowed. The music is deafening and the floor is vibrating from it. I’ve never minded
these kinds of places before, but suddenly I’m feeling a little
claustrophobic. I think Callie is too, because she’s clinging onto the back of Seth’s jacket like her life depends on it as he walks in front of her, shoving through the crowd. Luke’s disappears into the mob
completely.
Someone stumbles back from the bar and spills beer all over
the floor next to Callie’s feet. As she jumps out of the way, her
fingers lose hold of Seth and she reaches for him. But the people
are closing in and I can tell she’s trying not to panic.
I take a few long strides and grab hold of her waist. Her body
goes rigid, but I quickly kiss her head and whisper, “Relax, it’s me.”
She nods at the sound of my voice and her shoulders
unravel. I inch closer to her until my chest is pressed against the
back of her head, and then I circle my arms around her waist and
pull her securely against me as I maneuver us through the crowd. I
make sure to keep my elbows out so no one can get close enough
to touch her and when we finally break out of the crowd and into
the table section we both take a deep breath.
My arms relax around her, but I don’t let her go as we walk
to the corner table where Luke and Seth are sitting. I let go of her
only to pull a chair out for her and she gives me a tentative smile
as she sits down. I round to the other side of the table and take a
seat myself, wishing I wasn’t here.
“God, it’s fucking crazy in here,” Luke says, ruffling his hair as
he glances around at the bar, the crowd near the door, and the
dance floor over in the corner. “And hot.”
Seth nods in agreement as he reaches for his cigarettes that
are in his front pocket. But then his face sinks and he gazes at the
tables around us. “Wait a minute. There’s no smoking in here, is
there?”
Luke shakes his head as he leans back into the chair and his
muscles flex as he crosses his arms. “No… It’s going to fucking kill
me.”
“I think it’s the cigarettes that are going to kill you,” Callie
jokes nervously as her eyes flick to the dance floor.
Luke shoots her a death glare, but then shakes his head and
grins. “Well, if I can’t smoke than I’m at least going to drink.” He
pushes the chair away from the table and rises to his feet. “What’s
everyone’s poison?”
“The least potent thing that exists,” Callie says, wringing her
hands on her lap and picking at her nails. She’s anxious and I want
to know why. Is it because of me, or is it something else?
Seth takes out his phone and starts pushing at buttons. “I
haven’t talked to Greyson since yesterday.” He sighs. “I think he
might be upset with me.”
Callie rests her arms on top of the table. “Why?”
Seth shrugs as he slides his fingers across the screen of his
phone. “Because I might have said something mean about our
relationship.”
“Like what?” Callie asks.
“Like I wanted a break.” He sets the phone down and sighs as
Callie frowns at him. “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t mean it. I was tired and overthinking things and I didn’t mean it.”
Callie runs her hand across the top of the table, sweeping
some salt that’s on it onto the floor. “Did you tell him that?”
“Not yet,” he says. “But I’m working up to an apology.”
“Seth.” She extends her hand across the table and touches
his arm. “Since when do you hold things in? You should never do
that. It’s not healthy.”
He shrugs, glances at me, and then grabs onto Callie’s arm.
“Come with me for a minute,” he says, getting up from the table
and pulling her to her feet.
Nodding, she follows him without looking back at me. All I
hear are their words echoing in my head. Never hold anything in.
It’s unhealthy.
If that’s true then I’m the unhealthiest person alive. I feel it
rushing up inside me. What I am. What I feel. My life and the
emptiness that will always own me. If it doesn’t then I have to feel
the past years of my life. I can’t even think straight as feelings
overtake me and I push to my feet. Rushing across the room, I
head back to the bathroom and shove the door open. There are a
few guys in there, so I go into one of the stalls and lock myself in.
Pressing my hands against my face, I take deep breaths and then
slide my fingers down to my wrists, snapping the rubber band. I do
it over and over again until my wrist has a large red welt on it, but it still doesn’t feel better.
I need something—anything—to make it go away. I search
the stall looking for anything sharp, like the edge of the metal
toilet paper dispenser. It’s a desperate move, one that might lead
to tetanus. I’m not sure if I can do it. As I move my wrist toward it, I catch sight of the buckle on one of the leather bands on my wrist.
Viewing it as better alternative, I place my other wrist above it and then drag it down, pushing hard. The skin splits open and the pain
erupts up my arm. As the blood pools out, a calm blankets the
inside of my heart.
I sit down on the toilet and let it bleed out onto the floor,
splattering red on the tile near my feet. I let my hands fall into my head, feeling ashamed yet gratified and wondering how the fuck I
got to this place and how I became this person.
I can track the compulsion back to when I was about twelve.
It was right after my team had lost a baseball game, due to the fact
that I’d struck out every time I was at bat. Part of me had done it
on purpose out of spite because I knew it would make my dad
angry. And even though it hurt, every time he got angry he was
hurting too, on the inside.
I remember how calm my dad had been on the drive home,
which made me nervous. His fingers clutched the steering wheel as
he drove the car up the street to our home. The wind was blowing
and kicking up a lot of dust. The sky was cloudy and I remember
wishing that the drive would never end.
But all things do and too soon we were pulling up in front of
the house. The grass had just been cut and the lawn-mowing guy
was still cleaning up the piles of cut grass that the lawnmower had
spit out.
“Go inside,” my dad had finally said and the low tone of his
voice meant I was in deep shit.
I grabbed my bat and glove and climbed out of the car. With
my head hanging low, I walked up the path, with my eyes fastened
on my feet until I made it to the front door. I only looked up to
open it and then I lowered my gaze back to the ground as I walked
in.
I started to climb the stairs, hoping for once that he’d just let
it go. But halfway up, I heard the front door slam and the wind
from outside silenced. I kept walking though, hoping that
somehow I’d learned how to make myself invisible.
“Do you want to tell me what the hell happened?” His voice
slammed against my back.
I knew I should turn around and talk to him, but I panicked
and only sped up. This was always a mistake. His footsteps rushed
after me and by the time I reached the top of the stairway, he had
taken ahold of my collar.
He jerked me back as he ran down the stairs and I struggled
to keep my feet on the ground as the bat and glove slipped from
my hand. “Do you realize how lucky you are?” He swung me
around in front of him and I tripped over my shoes and slammed
into the wall.
“Lucky?” I asked, getting my footing. “How?”
I usually didn’t talk back to him, but my head was in a weird
place. Someone at school had asked me what the bruise on my
arm was from and I almost told them the truth. That my father had
shoved me into the side of one of the shelves in the living room
because I’d spilled soda on the floor. But I’d chickened out and
through the silence a realization had occurred to me. My life was
always going to be this way.
“What did you say?” My father stormed toward me, the vein
in his neck bulging and his knuckles were white as he balled his
fists.
“I said I’m sick of this,” I muttered, with my chin tipped down.
“I didn’t do anything but lose a game.”
The silence that followed my small voice’s utterance was
fucking terrifying and when I finally dared to raise my head I was
shocked to find that his fingers had slackened and the vein had
resided.
There was a brief instant where he almost looked human and
I thought I’d finally gotten to him. But then his eyes reddened and
he stepped forward. “Do you know what my father would have
done if I’d lost the game and then talked back to him like you just
did?” He stopped and waited for me to answer.
“No, sir,” I said. “I don’t.”
He stepped forward and towered over me. “He’d have yelled
at me right in front of all those people and told me the truth
because the truth is what we need to become better.”
Sometimes when he got angry, he’d mention his father and
what he did to him, like he needed to explain his violence. I
wondered if that’s how I’d grow up, reliving his beliefs with my
own kids. The idea terrified me, that I could become that. I didn’t
want to become that and make anyone suffer.
I held my breath, waiting for him to hit me, but his arm
stayed at his side.
“I don’t get you,” he said. “You’re such a fuckup. No matter
how many times I try to teach you how to behave, you always
mess up. And then you lose that game in front of everyone and
make me look like a loser father who has a fucking pussy for a son.
You don’t deserve to be out there.” The muscles in his arms
protruded and the vein in his forehead pulsed. I wrapped my arms
around myself, waiting for the impact. “You don’t deserve
anything. You’re a piece of shit. And a fucking loser. You don’t
even deserve to be standing here.”
He kept going on and on, ripping into me, but not touching
me. Each word was a cut—a scar. On and on. Cut. Slash. Scar. Scar.
Scar. I felt small and invisible just like I’d been wishing for earlier.
When he was done, he turned away and left me alone in the foyer.
I remember thinking how much worse it felt that he hadn’t
hit me. In fact, I remember wishing he’d said nothing and had
beaten the shit out me. Then I could have curled up in a ball and
slept the pain off. Instead, the pain was inside my head, my blood,
my heart. I wanted it out so fucking bad and I did the only thing I
could think of.
I ran up the stairs to the bathroom and found the first razor I
came across. It was a replacement blade for one of my mother’s
razors. The edge was pretty dull and it had this strip of some kind
of lotion shit at the top.
It didn’t matter. It was enough. I put the blade up the back of
my arm and made a slice. It took several times before it split the
skin open, but each graze was gratifying. By the time blood seeped
out, I felt better. I moved my arm over the sink and let the pain
drip out.
I blink the memory away and rise to my feet. I need to get
the hell out of here. Now. I need to bail on this fucking road trip
and go home before I get too attached. I wipe the blood off my
arm and rearrange the rubber bands and bracelets to cover the cut
up. I hurry out of the bathroom and turn sideways to fit through
the people, heading for the door.
I’ll go back to the house, grab my stuff, and drive my bike
home, back to that fucking house where I belong because I can’t
survive anywhere else.
As I push through the last of the people, I spot Callie and
Seth on the dance floor. There’s a slow song playing and she’s
holding onto him, saying something with her forehead creased.
Her eyes look watery under the spotlight. I think about how
breakable she is and I glance down at my wrist, thinking about
how easy I break myself.
