If I Break THE COMPLETE SERIES Bundle (112 page)

It only took my dad a few minutes to get Jenna in the house. It seemed like the ride over calmed her down or the alcohol made her sleepy. I can’t believe I’m the one who drove Jenna, a self-respecting, intelligent, beautiful strong woman to get beyond wasted and turn into a person I’ve never seen before. Is this what I do to people? Break them down, destroy their happiness? Is this what my life has come to? My dad looks relieved once he’s out of the house. I see him pause and shake his head before walking to the car and getting in. Once he does he lets out a deep breath.

“How is she?” I ask, too embarrassed to look at him.

“Jenna will be fine. She’s strong…she just…sometimes you need that moment to crack,” he says quietly.

“I know she’ll bounce back. I just hate that I’m the one who caused the pain she is in, that I lost a friend.”

“Let’s get going, son,” he says and I start the car and drive home. I’m surprised that he’s quiet and hasn’t mentioned anything about what’s happened. I knew I’d get an earful about how he was right, and Lauren being around is a bad idea, and what I did to Jenna was wrong. I’m sure she told him everything that happened while he was in there. Maybe he’s just giving me a break for tonight, one that I’m grateful for. The only thing I want to do right now is sleep.

I turn off the car and start to get out.

“Chris,” he says before we’re both out of the car. I let out a deep breath. I knew it was coming.

“I was really glad to hear your voice today,” he says, patting me on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry about everything today, there’s always tomorrow for that” he says, before getting out of the car. I start to follow him and my vision gets blurry.

I’m no longer walking down the driveway to my house but down a street, one that looks familiar, the houses look run down the grass is over grown and most of them look abandoned. A couple of cars pass by. I make my way up the stairs of one of them. Chipped green paint covers the outside of it. The railing on the stairs is crooked. It’s dark out but the light on the porch flickers like there’s a short in its power supply. I knock on the door three times. The reflection on the dirty plastic portion of it reveals that I’m wearing a baseball cap and worn jacket. A deep voice on the other side asks “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” he replies.

Cal.

A second later the door cracks before opening. It’s a man, a big man, at least 6’3” and about 260 pounds. He lets me in and I close the door behind me.

“He’s downstairs,” he tells me.

“Good,” I reply as I follow. The house is pretty empty. There’s an old dirty couch in the living room only accompanied by a tiny old TV, card table and a mini fridge. I follow the man to a door revealing a basement. I follow him down the stairs, the air immediately becoming cooler and stale. When we arrive at the bottom there’s another man, this one skinny in a big set of coveralls and a cap on his head. Then I see him. A man tied up in chair with a black cloth over his head.

“We didn’t touch him. He’s perfectly intact just like you wanted,” the big one says.

“What’s the blood on his knee from?” he asks wryly.

“Moving damage,” the little guy chuckles. He stops laughing at the look Cal shoots him. He grabs one of the folding chairs, putting it directly in front of the man tied up. Cal removes the black hood from the restrained man’s face, revealing a terrified man with tape over his mouth. He steps back, arms folded across his chest. He kneels down so he’s at eye level with the man. The man has hooded dark brown eyes and thick bushy eyebrows with sallow skin, and a small scar on his left cheek.

“So, this is the guy?” he asks dryly.

“That’s him,” the skinny one says.

“Clay Rice,” the big one chimes in.

“Now, I’m going to take this off. If you scream we’re going to have a problem. So you’re not going to scream. Right??” Cal says tightly. The man nods frantically.

Cal snatches the tape off the man’s face. And he lets out a small yelp.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Clayton Reece,” he stutters, not looking at anyone in the room.

“How old are you Clayton?”

“Thirty. Th-thirty nine, sir,” he says as tears pour out of his eyes.

“Do you have any kids Clay?”

“Yes sir. A seven year old girl. She’s my world, sir.”

“Have you ever been to jail, Clay?”

“Yes sir. For a few car robberies when I was younger. Nothing since. I’m straight sir. I-I don’t know what I’m doing here,” he starts to say in a panic.

“Calm down, Clay. If you start rambling, that’s just going to irritate me and I’m already pretty irritated. Do you have a tattoo on you back?”

“Yes sir,”

“Of what?”

“Of an e-eagle sir,” he says, starting to cry. Cal lets out a deep sigh.

“Do you have his wallet?” Cal asks. The smaller guy tosses it to him.

“Okay Clay. I’m going to put this tape back on your mouth and this hood back on your head, but don’t worry. These geniuses are going to take you back home and you’re going to forget this ever happened, okay. I’m going to take this just in case,” he says, showing the man his ID.

“Wait, what?” the big one exclaims.

“And for your trouble,” Cal says, pulling out a stack of hundred dollar bills and stuffing it in the man’s shirt, then he puts the tape back on the man’s mouth.

“What are you doing? That’s our money” the skinny guy says.

“This isn’t him,” Cal says calmly.

“What do you mean this isn’t the guy? He fits the description.”

“This isn’t the fucking guy!” Cal yells.

“I told you his name was Clay RICE. I told you he has a tattoo of a motorcycle on his back. I told you that he’s about 6’4” and this guy can’t be over 5’11” you fucking idiots!” Cal roars and they both look confused and quiet.

“We thought he was lying or changed his name,” the big guy says defensively.

“No fucking excuses! Drop this guy back off tonight in his neighborhood, with the money. Then how about you find the
right
Clay?!” he shouts, heading up the stairs of the basement.

“Alive!” he adds, before leaving and slamming the door.

“Chris!” It’s my mom. Holy shit! What was that?

She runs down the porch stairs and hugs me like I’m five years old again.

“It’s okay mom,” I assure her as she dotes on me like a toddler.

“I was so worried about you. I didn’t know when I’d see you again,” she says with tears in her eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere mom,” I tell her with as much confidence as I can, but to be honest I don’t know when
it’ll
happen and I’m starting to see things maybe I
don’t
want to know about.

“Are you okay honey?” she says gripping my face and looking into my eyes.

“Yeah. Just. All of this, you know,” I say as calmly as I can. She nods.

“I-I’m sorry about how things have gone with Jenna,” she says, and I give her a weak smile.

“Me too,” I say as I take her hand and we walk into the house.

“Are you hungry? I haven’t cooked anything since you left,” she chuckles.

“I’m sure dad was thrilled about that,” I joke, trying to ease the tension.

“Honey, your dad couldn’t eat a bite either. We were so worried after that phone call with Cal,” she sighs.

“What phone call?”

“Oh. I thought Lauren might have told you,” she says looking away nervously.

“Ugh. I didn’t. I kind of asked her to not talk to me about what happened when he was here,” I admit, feeling like an idiot now. She looks at me sympathetically.

“It wasn’t a big deal. Just—well Cal being Cal,” my mom sighs with a shrug.

“I’m actually going to skip dinner mom. I just need to get some sleep,” I say, kissing her on the forehead.

“Honey, things are all going to work out just fine. I know it,” she says before I leave the kitchen. I give her as much of a smile as I can muster. If only I could believe that. But now, not only do I have to worry about what happens when Cal comes back, but what the hell he’s done when I wasn’t here.

I
t’s going to be a new wonderful, fantastic day. Well, even if it’s not, it can’t get any worse than yesterday. The sky would literally have to fall to beat that disaster. I think back over the last year, when it was just me and Caylen, how simple things were then. Except I was lonely, frustrated and I had a broken heart. The sad thing is not much has changed. Well, now I’m beyond frustrated, confused, and I’m afraid to break someone’s heart. I’m afraid that I’m not good enough for one of them, that I’m not strong enough for the other, yet I can’t let either of them go. Great, right? At least I got to see Caylen. When I hold her in my arms, her little smile makes all of this seem worth it. Even being called a slut who used my own child to keep the man who nearly has me on the brink of a psychotic break down, is worth her smile.

It took everything in me to not go after Jenna yesterday but I knew she was drunk, and deep down I can’t blame her for being angry. I try to remind myself that my life wasn’t the only one disrupted, hers was too. It’s just hard to feel sorry for someone who is such a bitch, and how could she call me a whore when I’m the one married to—well
them
I guess.

I’m married to
them
.

It’s like the title of a
Jerry Springer
episode.

I’m so hungry, but I’ve been avoiding the kitchen like the plague. I just can’t see the Scotts right now. I can’t help but feel it’s my fault Cal came back, which to them is like spreading the plague. Then there’s being in the middle of Cal’s epic tantrum. I know Mr. Scott blames me. Mrs. Scott was so sweet and comforting, yesterday. I know she’s going through so much on her own. Not knowing who your son is going to be when he shows up, has to be as bad as not knowing who your husband is going to be. The good thing in all of this is Helen comes today, and I am hoping talking to her will help me to sort this out, to be able to talk honestly without worrying if I’m hurting someone. To tell someone how much I’m hurting. My phone starts to vibrate and I see it’s Lisa. I instantly feel guilty about telling Chris what she told me. I at least should be the one to tell her before he does. I’m not sure if Chris will, but just in case.

“Hey,” she says, not sounding like her usually chipper self.