Caught in the Flames (21 page)

He never loved you.

You trusted her. She never loved you.

You love him anyway. Idiot.

A deep inhale fills my senses with the scent of him. Of making love on this bed all week. My skin burns and fury pulses through my veins. Oh, hell no. There’s no way I’ll allow myself the comfort of anything Chase tonight. I stand in a rage and pull off the sheets, blankets, and pillowcases and drag the load to the washroom. Shoving them inside the machine, I dump a double dose of wildflower fresh scented soap and set the wash to extra hot. Scorching hot water is my ammunition to rid Chase from my life.

On the way back I grab a mostly empty moving box from the back of my hall closet and stomp to my room. With the mantra,
fuck him, fuck him,
racing through my mind I slam item after item of Chase’s personal effects into the box. He has more here than normal because he stayed the week. Razor, deodorant, clothes, ball cap, shoes, phone charger—it all goes. When I’m satisfied I’ve collected everything
Chase
into the cardboard container, I drag it outside my front door and leave it on the porch. I consider lighting it on fire but that would be counterproductive and bring more firemen to my door.

Chest heaving, I glance up at the night sky. It’s clear and quiet in this late night moment and the stars shine bright and magnificent against the dark. The memory of my first date with Chase pricks at my thoughts and threatens my control. Or what’s left of it. The stars taunt my breaking heart with their overwhelming beauty. I walk back inside and remake the bed with my extra set of sheets. A simple solid lavender that I picked up on clearance. The sheets aren’t as comfortable but they don’t smell like him. I flip off the light and let my eyes flutter shut.

My phone vibrates atop the bedside table. My fingers itch to throw off the sheet and read the caller ID but I refuse to give in to that pull. I can’t think of one person who’d be calling that I have the mental fortitude to speak with. After five minutes, it’s apparent whoever’s blowing up my phone isn’t about to call it quits.

Frustrated, exhausted, and hurt, I rip my cell from my charger and power it down, but not before I catch Alicia’s name flash across the screen.

Fuck her!

Piercing, guttural screams fill my ears. Wetness drips down my face. They’re my sobs. My cries. My pain. Rushing and consuming. I can’t think; I can’t move; I only know that after tonight I’ll never be played a fool again. Not by Alicia. Not by Chase. Not by another fireman. Never again.

My stomach grumbles and my head throbs as sunlight beats through my bedroom blinds. I have no clue what time it is but there’s no way in hell I’m turning my phone on to find out. My gut rumbles again. My hunger battles it out with the longing to hide from the light of this new day.

My eyes burn and the skin around my lids is swollen from the night of crying. I’m not sure when I passed out, but I’m thankful I did. If it wasn’t for the need to eat I’d continue to sleep my pain away. I pull myself up to sit and my pillow is streaked and stained in gross shades of grays, blues, and tan against the solid lilac cotton. An art project gone hideously wrong. Or rather, I didn’t wash my face last night. The rest of my body aches as if I’ve been banged around. How my heart transferred its pain to my limbs goes beyond my understanding.

It’s Friday, and I drag myself from the safety of bed. Thankful there aren’t any in-person meetings scheduled. Next, I type out a quick email to Jim requesting a sick day.

My stomach rumbles, relentless with the need to be fed and I prop open the cupboard doors to study my options. My eyes land on the pancake mix and my blood boils with the thought of Tiff. Why the fuck is she such a bitch? And why didn’t Chase just tell me she was his sister? How many other siblings does he have out in the world? I pluck the container and drop it into my trash can. Vindication throbs, or maybe it’s a headache. Either way, I feel marginally better by tossing out my favorite breakfast food. Scratch that. Former favorite.

I scrounge around and remove a box of cereal, pour myself a bowl and drown it in milk. Once I’ve consumed sustenance my brain awakens a little more.

Coffee, coffee, coffee.

I set a full pot to brew, and while the boiling water flavors the air with java I shut my eyes and just breathe. In. Out. Slow and steady. My eyes pop open with the slowing drip of the coffee maker and I open the cupboard that houses my mugs. My gaze lands on the metallic wrappers of miniature chocolates I have stashed here.

Chocolate causes my mouth to water.

My muscles clench tight and I think of him.

Those deep melted chocolate hues.

Fuck Chase.

Fuck chocolate.

Fuck my life.

In a moment of uncoiled rage, I rip the trash bag from its container and frantically toss every single piece of chocolate from my house. The miniatures from my cabinet, cookies from the pantry, ice cream from the freezer, and sauce from the fridge. I drag the bag outside and straight to the curb. I don’t care it’s not trash pickup for two more days. I’m in a “Frankly, I don’t give a damn” kind of mood. I try not to notice the box of Chase’s belongings has disappeared. Maybe he came and got them. But if he did, it hurts he didn’t try to come inside. Maybe they were stolen. I don’t know what to hope for.

Back inside, I sit on the counter and try to focus my racing thoughts. They’re moving so fast I can’t concentrate. I sip my coffee and the heavenly liquid calms my frazzled presence. Alerts my senses. And that’s when I remember the trail mix. Disguised in healthy granola and nuts, that fucker’s hiding bits of chocolate.

Ha! Can’t fool me. Not today, motherfucker. Not today.

Tossing back the rest of my coffee, I unearth the bag from the back corner of the pantry. I consider tossing the entire thing out. But then somehow he wins. Maybe I still want the granola, even if I don’t want the sweet candy. I sort of don’t, but that makes me even angrier.

“Fuck!” I shout and rip the seal off the container. I dump the entire contents out onto the countertop. It’s not a small bag, either, it’s one I purchased at one of those discounted warehouse stores. Three cups of coffee and one hour later all the chocolate has been carefully isolated and removed from my trail mix. I toss the offending candy into a trash bag and walk it to the curb lest I encounter a weak moment later.

Reality and consciousness wash over and hit me like a diesel fueled engine. Before the tears begin to fall I cocoon myself back in my room, under my sheets, and pray for sleep. Really, anything to escape the pain of losing two of the people I love most. And that’s the kicker. I want to hate Chase. I do. But I don’t. I love him. That doesn’t go away after one night of glaring truth.

Betrayal is a motherfucking bitch.

I hate best friends.

Even the ones who aren’t two-timing hoes.

Jill throws back the covers I’m shrouded in. “Get up bee-otch! We’re power walking!”

I cover my face with my arms and grumble into the mattress. “Leave me alone, Jill. I’m not leaving my bed.”

“It’s scientifically proven that exercise puts a person in a better mood. We’re power walking, sister. Put these on.” She hurdles a sports bra and a pair of socks at my head.

“I don’t want to go outside.”

“Sun is also good for improving one’s outlook on life. Did you know people who live in climates with fifty percent less sunlight have higher suicide rates than those who don’t?”

“I’m brokenhearted, Jill. I promise I won’t off myself. Now, please leave.”

“No. Sorry, but I’d be a horrible best friend to leave you in this state. We’re power walking.”

She’s persistent. And as stubborn as I am. Dammit. I should’ve thought twice before giving her a key. She’ll never leave me to my bedroom hideout. “Fine. Let me put some clothes on.”

“A bra, too.”

“Jesus, Jill. When have you seen me forget a bra? I’m not insane.” I glare from my pillow.

“
Hmph!
” She crosses her arms over her chest and lifts one brow.

“Oh, I see. You think I’ve gone crazy!” I unearth myself, begrudgingly, from the soft comfy cocoon of my bed and rummage through my drawers for clean undies, bra, yoga pants, and a T-shirt.

“Never! Though we may be a little concerned. You haven’t left the house in eleven days.” Jill ushers me toward the bathroom and thankfully stays on the opposite side when I close the door. I ignore the ‘we’ because I’m so not ready to go there, and catch a glimpse of my three-day-old unwashed bedhead with a grimace. I look horrible, but really, that’s how I feel. Birds have most likely made their home atop my head, along with a Cheeto or two. I do my best to clear my mangy curls of all debris and re-pile it into a bun.

“So? What’s the big deal in that? This is a lovely house and I have no need to leave. I work from home now. It’s not like I’m avoiding the world or anything.”
I so am
. “It’s just that I don’t have a reason to go out.”

“Are you even eating?” she asks through the door.

“Of course I’m eating!” Some girls lose their appetites post breakup. Mine seems to have increased. Even the black stretchy fabric of my yoga pants pulls tighter than usual across the waistband to create a muffin top. Maybe a little exercise isn’t the worst idea. Not that I’ll tell Jill that.

“How do you get food without leaving? Your ass is too cheap to order takeout every day.” She knows me well. I pull on my sports bra and T-shirt and fling open the bathroom door.

“Groceries on the go.” I grin. Only the best invention for people evasion everywhere.

“Come again?” Jill shakes her head then backs up so I can pass by and grab a pair of sneakers from my closet.

“The corner market has a program. I go online and order what I want. They bring it the next day. Ten percent delivery fee. Really, I wish I’d discovered it before, saves on countless impulse buys and minutes out of my week.”

“You’re having groceries delivered from down the street? Callie, it’s like a five-minute drive. Isn’t that program intended for the elderly and homebound?”

“Don’t be ignorant, Jill. Lots of people benefit from their services. Me included.” I finish lacing up my kicks and stand. My enthusiasm fades as soon as I glance at the door.

He’s out there. I don’t want to see him. I don’t want him to see me looking like this. Maybe this is a bad idea.

An encouraging smile plays on Jill’s lips. “Ready?”

Crap. I have to go out. If I refuse, her hovering and post breakup care will only intensify. “Let’s get this over with,” I grumble and follow her out the door. She locks it on the way and we walk at a brisk pace toward the narrow path that weaves through this housing development. Once we hit the winding pathway I breathe a little easier. We won’t run into him here unless Jill or I falls, trips, and twists an ankle so badly we need emergency assistance. That would be my luck. My gaze drops to my feet and the path before me, and I strategically step around any cracks or crevices. Damn, I never realized until now the dangers a simple walk imposed.

“Pick up the pace, Callie. This is power walking. And swing your arms for extra effort.”

Oh, God, she’s gonna go boot camp instructor on my ass. Save me now. “Why are we powering as opposed to regular walking?” I ask between breaths.

“I read in an article that power walking increases a person’s libido upwards of twenty-five percent.”

“So, we’re power walking to get in the mood? Jill, you’re a beautiful woman, but I don’t see you in that way.”

“Ha ha.” Jill rolls her eyes and I laugh. Not forced or fake, but an actual chortle escapes my mouth of its own accord and it feels good. Just as quickly as it appears, my joy is stolen by Jill’s next question. “Have you talked to Alicia?”

She knows damn well I haven’t. I’m sure she hasn’t ended their friendship. And I’d never ask Jill to pick sides, or intentionally put one of my friends in the middle of an argument, but in this case it can’t be helped. Quite frankly, I don’t feel one bit of sorrow. This goes beyond a squabble or difference in opinion. This is the worst form of betrayal, and if Alicia hadn’t acted like such a hussy we’d still be besties. My heart constricts at that realization, piled on top of my heartbreak from losing Chase.