Dirty Thoughts (19 page)

He hissed the last word, and it made Jenna want to rip her last name up into tiny shreds between them like bathroom tissue. “You did this whole thing just to make me look bad? You’re a grown man, and all you did was make yourself look like an idiot. You want me to believe he did it so I’ll dump him, because I’d have no other choice. I couldn’t work at MacMillan and stay with the guy who punched my brother at a company party.” She took a step away from them. “Well, this time, you’re wrong. Because if that’s my choice, I quit. Find something else to focus your energy on rather than competing with me, because I’m done.”

She turned away from her gasping brother and father, past her mother’s soft protests, and walked back out into the ballroom. She held her head high, despite the whispers. Because she’d done nothing wrong. Cal had done nothing wrong. But at the moment, she didn’t care one bit about the rumors. All she cared about was getting to Cal.

After grabbing her purse, she ran outside, pausing to take off her shoes, not caring about the stones in the parking lot.

But Cal’s truck wasn’t there, and she could see the marks of his tires, showing he’d taken off like a bat out of hell.

She called his phone, but it went right to voicemail. She texted him:
Call me
.

Her phone stayed silent. So she called Delilah, who’d left the party early, hoping her friend could pick up her stranded butt from the country club.

Chapter Twenty-Five

C
AL CALLED
J
ILL
again the next morning to tell her Asher was being discharged.

He held the hospital phone to his ear while Asher was in the bathroom. “What did you say?”

Her voice trembled. “I left my husband.”

Cal swallowed, and he stared at his boots. “Okay.”

“I guess it was the news that Asher was hurt that made me think . . . that made me realize what was happening, letting his father put him at risk. I don’t want my son hurt.”

Cal clenched his jaw and rubbed his forehead. Asher hurt. Like he had been under Cal’s watch. “Glad to hear that.”

“Don’t tell Asher yet, though, please. I need to get some things sorted here, and then I’ll be in touch, all right?”

To take him home. Where he belonged. Which wasn’t with Cal. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’ll call soon.”

Cal hung up the phone. So that was it. This fantasy family was vaporizing in front of his eyes. Wasn’t this what he wanted? To be alone again?

And if so, why did this hurt so much?

A
SHER WAS STILL
a little pale as Cal helped him into his truck. The kid had been discharged earlier that morning after a night in the hospital. He was now the owner of a bright, lime green cast and a fresh set of stitches on his scalp. They were on the shaved side of his head, which irked Cal because he had to see them.

Asher was smiling, albeit weakly, and said he just wanted to get home and play video games. Apparently the non-high-definition television in the hospital room wasn’t to his liking.

Cal glanced at his phone in the center console of his truck. He’d left it off overnight and hadn’t bothered to turn it on. It all could . . . wait. Yeah, just wait.

Asher turned to him when they were halfway home. “I’m sorry.”

“You already said that. And it’s okay.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think it is. I just . . . you said you’d take me for a ride soon, that I’d earned it, so I didn’t think anything of letting Gabe drive me around for a little . . . ”

“So what exactly happened?”

Asher sighed. “Gabe said his bike had been acting up, so he got some shop to fix it. It’s a couple of towns over, because there’s no one in town that’s certified to fix bikes.”

That stung, because Cal could have fixed it if he’d remembered. Instead, Gabe had gone to someone else, who might not have known what he was doing.
Fuck.

“So,” Asher continued, “he said he wanted to test it out.”

“At night?”

Asher bit his lip. “It was just around the house.”

The stupidity of the whole situation was incredible. “Go on.”

“So he was going slow, and I wasn’t holding on really tight. Over the driveway, he gunned it a little, and . . . I don’t know, something happened. It didn’t sound right. And next thing I knew, I was in the air and landing on the ground.” Asher put a knee to the bench and turned to look at Cal. “I feel like I really messed things up between us.”

Things were messed up, but it wasn’t Asher’s fault. “You didn’t.”

“You sure?”

The kid would be relieved when he found out his mother had made the right decision and he could go back home. For now, though, he had to heal. The rest would all come later. “Positive.”

Once they were parked in Cal’s driveway, he helped Asher out of the truck and then grabbed the kid’s bag of clothes out of the back that Brent had brought to the hospital.

He was halfway to the open door when he heard Ash yell, “Jenna!”

Cal froze. He heard her voice from inside the house, talking to Asher, and the boy’s excited tone, laced with tears.

Part of him wanted to get back in the truck and drive away. Far, far away. The other part of him wanted to tell Jenna to go the hell home.

And the other part . . . the one he didn’t want to acknowledge . . . wanted to rush inside and wrap her in his arms and tuck his nose into her neck, breathing in her scent and feeling her hands massage his back.

His feet carried him to the door, and he stood in the entrance, watching a fresh-faced Jenna fawn over Asher. She was wearing a pair of jean shorts and oversized T-shirt.

Asher was on the couch now, a pillow under his head, the video game controller in his hands. He was smiling up at Jenna like she . . . like she was the sun. And Cal’s heart sank down into the toe of his boots.

She was here for Asher. She must be. The girl had a huge heart. She cared about the kid as much as Cal did.

When the sound of yelling and swords clanging came from the TV and the fast clicking of buttons from the controller, Jenna straightened up, blowing a stray lock of brown hair out of her face that had slipped from her ponytail.

They stared at each other. Cal hadn’t moved from the doorway. He was still wearing the clothes he’d worn last night. He was sure he looked like hell. Because he felt like hell.

She motioned toward the kitchen with her head. He dropped Asher’s bag on the floor, shut the door behind him, and followed her.

“What’re you doing here?” His voice was harsh from the stale air of the hospital.

She had a sponge in her hand and was scrubbing the sink.
Scrubbing the sink?

“I’m cleaning.”

He leaned against the counter beside her and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re cleaning.”

“Yes. Why don’t you go take a shower? And maybe a nap?”

She was telling him what to do now? “How did you get in here?”

The look she shot him could freeze hell. “You gave me a key.” She said it slowly, like he was an idiot.

That didn’t explain what she was doing. “I don’t—”

She sighed, really heavily, like every muscle in her body hurt. “Cal, please. Just go take a shower and lie down. I’ll bring you some food.” She paused and bit her lip. “Then we’ll talk.”

He bristled. “Not sure—”

“We’re talking, Cal.” Still with that stern look. “Go. Wash. Your. Body.”

He huffed and turned on his heel sharply.

After making sure Asher was okay (he was) and that he didn’t need anything (he didn’t; Jenna had already given him water and food), Cal went upstairs.

He stripped on the way to the bathroom, leaving his clothes where they lay. He took a five-minute shower, wrapped a towel around his waist, and then crawled into bed. He was out seconds after his head hit the pillow.

T
HE SOUND OF
a clattering on his nightstand jolted him awake. The sun outside his window had begun to descend. “Shit.” He rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Six,” Jenna said from somewhere behind him. He heard a rustle of clothes and then the sound of them hitting the bottom of his hamper.

“I slept that long?” he asked.

“I didn’t wake you. Figured you needed the sleep. There’s a sandwich on the nightstand for you.”

He squinted at it. “Peanut butter and jelly?”

“Glass of milk is there too.”

It was. And this small talk was painful.

“Jenna . . . ”

The bed dipped beside him. “Asher’s been asleep for about an hour. Do we need to wake him?”

Cal shook his head and sat up, reaching for the plate. “Doctor said no. They don’t really do that anymore for concussions.”

Her hazel eyes blinked. “Okay.”

As he took a bite of the sandwich, he was acutely aware that he was wearing only a towel. And Jenna’s hand was right next to his naked thigh. “So . . . ”

“I quit.”

So there it was, the closure. The
I can’t do this
. The
I can’t believe you punched my brother at my company party
. The
I don’t love you back.
At this point, did he even want to dispute the facts? It would be so much easier to let her think he did it. To let her go.

“I can’t do this again.” Her eyes were on her fists clenched in his comforter. The peanut butter sandwich plastered to the roof of his mouth tasted like sawdust. “Last time was bad enough, but what happened this time was . . . way, way worse.”

Last time Dylan had stood in front of him, bleeding, they’d at least been in private.

“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely, dropping the half-eaten sandwich on his nightstand and gulping down milk.

“I’m sorry too,” Jenna said. “I mean, Dylan and I were never close, but now . . . well, I think I need to cut ties completely.”

Cal’s head shot up. “What?”

“Did he mean to hit his face on the bathroom door?” Jenna fidgeted with the ends of her ponytail. “Or was it an accident?”

Cal’s head was spinning. Did Dylan tell the truth? There was no way.

“Cal?”

“What’re you talking about?”

She frowned. “Dylan. He tried to say you punched him, but when I called him on the lie, he finally ’fessed up.”

Cal blinked. “You called him on it?”

Jenna was doing that thing again, where she was looking at him like he was an idiot. “I knew you wouldn’t hit him, Cal. Not—” Her eyes grew wide, impossibly wide, and then she shot to her feet and narrowed those eyes to slits. “Oh my God. You thought I believed Dylan, didn’t you?”

He couldn’t suck enough air in his lungs. “I . . . I . . . yeah. I did. What was I supposed to think? You stood there in the hallway with that fucking look of disappointment on your face.”

“Hell, yeah, I was disappointed, Cal! I couldn’t believe this was all happening again. And maybe for five seconds, I thought you punched him. But then I saw your face and . . . I knew you didn’t do it.”

“But last time, you chose—”

She shook her head, hair flying in her face. “I chose you!” She swallowed and then lowered her voice, sinking back onto the bed. “You have to know that, right? I chose you when I made that decision, even though it didn’t seem like it. If I hadn’t loved you, Cal, I would have let you take that hit. I would have let you fuck up your future. I loved you, so I chose you. And that meant I had to let you go.”

He needed water. And alcohol. And a bath in nicotine patches.

“But this time, I don’t have to let you go,” she said. “I quit, because I won’t work with my brother who uses you to carry out some stupid vendetta against me. Who won’t accept you. So that’s it.”

He reached for her, but she pulled her hand away. “You told me the first time I saw you again that you weren’t the same eighteen-year-old kid. And I believed you. So why can’t you believe that I’m not the same eighteen-year-old girl?”

He didn’t know what to say. His head was foggy, and his stomach still cramped from everything that had happened last night.

Jenna stood up, her on hand on top of her head. “Why aren’t you saying anything right now?”

Maybe if Asher hadn’t gotten hurt. If Cal hadn’t failed at that. If Jill hadn’t gotten her act together, he could have done this again. But his heart was raw, and he’d already begun building up that iron wall that had protected him for ten years. He didn’t belong in Jenna’s world, in her future. Cal didn’t belong in anyone’s future. He swallowed. “I don’t know if this can work.”

She blanched. “What?”

Now this pain, this was real, but if he could just get through it, he’d be back behind that wall that had served him so well. He had to walk over hot coals to get there but then never again. “I tried with Asher, Jenna, and I failed. And it would just be a matter of time before I actually fucked us up too. I thought I could do this again, thought I could dream for the things I once did. But I can’t. I’m not the same guy I was at eighteen, and I don’t want to be. No matter how much I try to pretend. It’s been too long, and I’m too used to keeping everything on lockdown, surrounding myself with things I can control. And I can’t control this. Any of this.”

Jenna stood frozen; the only indication she was alive was the rise and fall of her chest. “You can’t be serious right now.”

“I have never felt so hopeless as I have in the last day. Between your brother and Asher . . . ” He clenched his fists. “I’m dry, Jenna. My well has run dry. I got nothing left, no reserves. I’ve reached my limit. I thought I could give you what you need, but I can’t.”

She didn’t move. Her eyes were huge in her face, and
fuck
, Cal was getting burned, scarred. Why couldn’t this all be over so he could suffer in peace?

“And I’m not enough?”

He jerked his head up. “What?”

“That’s what you’re saying, then. That I’m not enough to give you what you need. To fill you back up.”

He didn’t know how to answer that, not at all. So he stayed silent.

She blinked rapidly, and her lips trembled. “So everything we’ve done—the late-night talks, my bringing you lunch at the garage, the movies, everything—that wasn’t enough to get you through some hard times?”

The last month flipped through his mind, but right now, none of it was getting through to him. It couldn’t cover the searing pain tearing through him now. “It’s not your fault, Jenna. You’re always enough. I just got a leak I can’t fix.”

She turned away, her ponytail flying around her face. When she reached the door of the bedroom, she stopped and said over her shoulder, “Thanks for being honest. Just so you know, I do think you’re good enough. But I’m done trying to convince you of it.”

And then she walked out.