The Redemption of Callie and Kayden (11 page)

doing.” I take a breath because I’m nervous and forgetting to

breathe.

His eyes rise up to me and I’m taken back at the coldness in

them. “I’m fine.”

“That’s good.” My throat is shrinking, reducing airflow, and I

don’t know how to react. He starts to head for the door and I

follow him. “Kayden, wait.”

He doesn’t, pressing his hand to the door and shoving it

open. I know I should back off, but I can’t convince my feet to stop

moving. I hurry out the door after him, wrapping my arms around

myself as the wind hits my bare arms.

“Maybe we could talk?” I suggest as he opens the door to his

mother’s black Mercedes.

He pauses, shaking his head, and then he looks over the roof

at me. “Callie, I have to go. I’ve got stuff to do today.”

I walk through the slush and the puddles and around the

back of his car, not ready to give up. “You’re staying at your

house?”

He tosses the bag of food across the center console and

onto the passenger seat. “Yeah, where else would I go?”

The water is seeping through my shoes and it’s cold. “You

could come stay with me.”

His eyes focus on me. “And what? You’re mother’s just going

to welcome me there?”

I hesitate and it’s the wrong thing to do, but I can’t think of

anything to say. “I don’t care about my mother.”

He shakes his head and ducks over to climb into the car.

“Callie, I can’t stay at your house, not after everything that’s

happened.”

Why does it feel like he’s not referring to my mother

anymore but to our relationship? “Please don’t run away,” I sputter.

I’m no longer thinking rationally. I run around the front of the car

and open the door to the passenger side, prepared to make him

feel better. Somehow. I just need to find out how. The inside of the

car smells like him and I breathe in the scent as I move the food

bag out of the way, climb in, and close the door. “I don’t want you

going back there.”

Shaking his head, he slams the door and adjusts the seat

back, giving himself more room. He meets my eyes and there’s a

hollowness in them. “Callie, I never really left there. Just escaped

for a little while.” He turns the key in the ignition and the engine

roars to life. “My father isn’t there anymore.”

I shake my head. “Where is he?”

He shrugs, biting his lip, staring out the window at the

surplus warehouse next door. “On a business trip I guess.”

I want to ask him—want to know if he had any part of it.

“Kayden, did he—”

“Look, Callie,” he cuts me off and his gaze slices into me. “I

have to go. I got shit to do.”

I swallow hard and my insides tremble. “Please talk to me,” I

whisper, sucking back the tears.

He inhales through his nose and his solid chest puffs out and

then descends as he releases the breath. His hand is turning pallid

as he clutches onto the steering wheel and I swear I can hear his

heart beating. “I…” His breathing quickens as he struggles to

speak.

I prop my elbow on the console and place my hand on his

cheek. He flinches but stays motionless, looking at me. My heart is

racing passionately and pumping adrenaline through my body. I

don’t know what I’m doing or if it’s wrong or right. All I can do is

hope I’ll get to him. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’ll understand.” He swallows hard as I brush a shaky finger under his

cheek. He still looks like he hasn’t shaved. His skin is rough under

my touch. “Please.”

He shakes his head. “I-I can’t.”

“Yes, yes, you can.” I lean over the console, needing to get

close to him. “I’ll help you.” Like you helped me.

His warm breath feathers against my cheeks and his

breathing quickens as his gaze flicks to my lips. “Callie, I…” He

drifts toward me and then his mouth crushes urgently against

mine. I instantly part my lips and allow his tongue to slip inside as I release a pent-up breath. I’ve missed this—him—more than I let

myself admit. I need him. So much.

I grip the front of his shirt as he cups the back of my neck,

pulling me closer, kissing me and exploring my mouth with his

tongue in rough, almost desperate movements. His other hand

moves around and frantically grabs at my hip. The console is

jabbing into my stomach but I don’t care. I just want to keep

kissing him forever. I never want to let him go or have him let me

go. I need him.

But then he’s pulling away, breathing profusely, with his jaw

clenched shut. When he looks at me, his eyes are cold. “You need

to go… I’m sorry, Callie.” He looks like he might cry. “I can’t be with you.”

I try to tell myself that it’s because he’s hurting but suddenly

I’m back in high school, back to being no one, back to being the

invisible girl filled with shame.

“Freak,” Daisy said as I walk down the hall with my head

hung low. “Nobody wants you around.”

I hurried down the hall, clutching my books as I ran outside. I

kept running and running until I was safely underneath the

bleachers near the football field where no one could see me. I

shoved my finger down my throat and forced my lunch out of my

stomach. Then I sat down in the dirt and through the cracks in the

seats watched the football team practice, wishing I could stay there

forever.

My breath falters as I climb out of the car, into the snow and

the wintry air. As soon as I slam the door, the tires spin in the slush as he peels away without looking back. Even though I feel like

chasing after him, I turn around and walk back inside with my head

hung low.

Kayden

I’m officially the world’s biggest asshole as I pull out of that

parking lot. I’ve snubbed the world’s saddest girl not once but

twice, and on top of that, I kissed her. I’m a fucking prick. I can see her watching the car as I peel out onto the road, her head hung

low, and she probably feels like shit.

But it’s for her own good; that’s what I have to keep telling

myself. One day she’ll look back at all of this and be glad she

didn’t have to deal with it her entire life. My burdens and problems

should be mine and mine alone.

Still… kissing her again has made it a huge problem. I’m

driving away from the café, the slush on the roads whipping up

against the windshield as I fly down the main road in my mom’s

car. My heart is acting stupid, flying about as fast as the car is and my lips are burning from the feel of hers. The inside of the car

smells like her too and I can’t stop thinking about how good she

smells when I’m close to her and how it feels to touch her.

I should have never left the house. My mom was wasted,

though, and wanted something to eat. I didn’t want her driving

drunk so I offered to go. But being out in public wasn’t a good

idea. Too many people I know, and too much judgment. And then

Callie… being there… seeing her…

Tears threatened to come out of my eyes as I leave her

behind at the café and the pain and sadness is making me want to

pull over. I can’t let the feelings surface, not when I have no way to turn them off. I’ll have to deal with them and I can’t. But my eyes

keep pooling with water and it’s become harder than hell to see.

Everything looks white and sloshy and I can’t focus on the road. I

need to stop the tight knot in my chest from tightening anymore.

Holding onto the steering wheel, I reach across the console

for the glove compartment, hoping my mom will have a

screwdriver or something sharp inside there. I just need a quick fix

to temporarily turn it off. I keep glancing up at the road as I dig

through the glove box. There’s a stack of papers, a tube of lipstick, and a packet of air fresheners. “Fuck!” There’s nothing sharp. I slam the console and sit up just in time to see a small blue car stopped

in the middle of the road with the exhaust huffing a cloud of dark

smoke into the air.

I slam my foot down on the pedal and my car screeches to a

halt. Snow and slush flip up into the air as the back end of the car

loses control and glides to the side. It stops sideways about a foot

before ramming the other car.

I slam my hands against the wheel as the car inches forward

and angles to the side. I’m losing control over everything—over

how I feel, and it’s going to end up killing me.

The thing is I’m not sure if I’m terrified about that or relieved.

#2 Don’t overthink so many things

Kayden

It’s been a little over a week and a half since I got released

and I’m fucking pissed. And shocked. And a whole lot of other stuff

I can’t sort through. The last time I saw Callie was when I left her at the café. She’s tried to call and text me a few times since I ran away from her, but I never respond.

Being stuck in the house is tough, though, and kind of

depressing, especially since Christmas day was yesterday and it

went unnoticed. But it’s always kind of been like that I guess. My

mother has cleaned out the knives and razors and every sharp

object in the house. Whether it’s for my dad’s benefit or my own,

I’m not sure. My oldest brother, Tyler, is still hanging out. I guess he lost his job and house, so now he’s crashing in the downstairs

room we used to hide out in when we were kids. He’s also drinking

about as much as my mother. My father hasn’t been home since I

came back. My mother says he’s on a business trip but I secretly

wonder if he’s hiding until they can be sure I’m not going to talk

about what happened that night.

“Good news,” my mom says when I enter the kitchen. It’s

early in the morning, but she’s dressed up, her hair’s done, and

she’s already got her makeup on. She’s sitting at the table sipping

coffee with a magazine in front of her and a half-empty wine

bottle.

I head for the cupboard. “Oh yeah.”

She picks up the coffee mug. “Yes, if you consider not going

to jail good news.” She takes a sip of the coffee and then puts the

cup back down on the table. “I think Caleb and your father have

come to an agreement. We’ll give him ten thousand dollars and in

exchange he won’t press charges.”

“Is that even legal?”

“Does it matter if it is?”

I open the cupboard and take out a box of Pop-Tarts. “Kind

of… And besides, how do you know he won’t just take the money

and still press charges. He’s not a good, honest guy.”

“No, he’s the guy you beat up.” She picks up the creamer

and pours some into her coffee. “Now quit arguing. This is how

your father’s handling it. And be grateful that he’s handling it.”

I unintentionally snort a laugh. “Be grateful.” I gesture at my

side, which is starting to scar over. “For what? For this?”

She raises the cup to her mouth and scowls at me over the

brim. “What? The injuries you put there yourself?”

I slam the cupboard and it makes her jump. “You know that’s

not true… and I wish… I wish…” I wish for once she’d just admit

that she knows but doesn’t care. It’d be better than her pretending

that none of this exists.

She lowers the cup to the table and flips a page of her

magazine, shrugging nonchalantly. “All I know is that you cut

yourself and that your father wasn’t even here that night.”

“Mom, you are so full of—”

She smacks her hand down on the table and her body is

shaking. “Kayden Owens, we’re not going to talk about this

anymore. It’s being taken care of and we’re moving on because

that’s what we do.”

I lean back against the corner, bend my arms behind my

back, and grip the countertop. “Why are you always protecting

him? You should be protecting your kids… but you won’t even

admit the stuff that’s going on.”

She shoves back from the table, grabs her magazine and

coffee, and hurries toward the doorway. “Do you know what it’s

like growing up so poor that your mother has to sell herself on the

corner all so you can have a used pair of shoes from the local

surplus store?”

My mother has never really talked about her childhood or

her mother, so I’m stunned. “No… but I’d rather grow up without

good shoes than grow up getting my ass kicked every day.”

She swings her arm back and throws the cup at me. It zips

past my head and shatters against the wall. Sharp fragments

sprinkle all over the floor and get stuck in the cracks of the tile.

“You ungrateful little shit. You have no idea how lucky you are.”

She’s shaking from her anger and her eyes are bulging.

I glance from her to the shards on the floor and then back at

her with my mouth hanging open. She’s never been this upset

before. She’s usually subdued. But as quickly as the wildfire came,

it’s gone and the flames and rage in her eyes dissipates. She runs

her hands down her hair, combing it back into place before she

walks out of the room and leaves me to clean up the mess.

I get a broom from the closet and sweep it up, watching the

broken pieces fall into the garbage can as I empty out the dust

pan. I notice some travel itinerary to Paris and also Puerto Rico in

the garbage and wonder if that’s where my dad went. These places