The Redemption of Callie and Kayden (39 page)

I hand it to her. There must be a very close resemblance because

she knows right away who he is.

“Where did you get this?” she asks, sitting up and reading

the paper.

I push up and sit in front of her, crossing my legs. “Seth came

running into the library today like a lunatic with it. I guess he was pretty easy to find, which makes me wonder if my mom or dad

ever really went looking for him.”

She bites her lip as she meticulously studies the paper. “It

says he lives in Virginia.”

I nod, tracing the whitish scars on my wrist. They’re fading

rapidly, but they are still there as little reminders of everything that happened. “I know.”

“That’s far.”

“I know.”

She lowers the paper onto her lap and studies me for a

moment. “Are you going to try to get ahold of him?”

I shake my head and shrug my shoulders, thinking about the

past. I’d never had a stellar relationship with Dylan, and besides, he ran away and never tried to get ahold of me. “What if he doesn’t

want me to get ahold of him? I mean, there’s a reason I haven’t

talked to or seen him in years. And it looks like he has a family and everything. At least that’s what the article says.”

Callie’s silent for a while and then she reaches her hand over

and fixes her finger underneath my chin, titling my chin up so I’m

looking at her. “But what if… what if he does want to see you?

What if he was just staying away from your parents and the house?

Or what if he tried to get ahold of you and your parents wouldn’t

let him?”

I remember when Dylan left the house. He’d just graduated

and gave up a football scholarship, partially to spite my dad and

partially because he didn’t want to play football. My dad was

fucking pissed and had told him to never come back. Ever.

“Yeah, maybe.” I’m still not fully convinced, but if I were to

talk to my therapist right now, he’d say that I was doubting myself

more than Dylan. He says that a lot. He says I have low

self-esteem. It makes me feel weak and like a fucking pussy and

kind of proves his point.

“I’ll call him for you,” Callie says, scooting closer on her knees

toward me. “If you want me to.”

I spread my fingers on top of her legs and frown at her.

“You’d do that for me? Call a complete stranger?”

“I’d do anything for you.” She positions her hands on top of

mine. “Because I love you.”

“I know you would,” I reply, both hating and loving that she

said she loves me. I still haven’t said it to her yet. I don’t know why.

I’ve tried a thousand fucking times, but I can’t get the words to

come out of my mouth. She never says anything about it either,

which makes me feel like an even shittier person. She’s so happy

having it one-sided. “I should be the one to call him.”

Her shoulders elevate with her eagerness. “So you’re going

to call then?”

I nod, deciding to take a leap of faith and see what happens.

“Yeah, I’ll call him tonight after I’m done with you.”

She brings her bottom lip in between her teeth, biting it

nervously. “When you’re done with me?”

Nodding, I lean in for her mouth, but then veer left and

breathe hotly on her neck. “Yeah, I really want to work on number

forty-six on your list.”

“Forty… six…” She’s breathing profusely as my mouth makes

a wet trail down the side of her neck. With each sweep of my

tongue, I gently nibble on her skin, bringing it into my teeth and

then licking it.

“Eat chocolates… have a lot of sex,” I say, reminding her what

it says as I arrive at her collarbone and glide my hand up beneath

her bra.

She lets out a breathy moan. “That one’s for Valentine’s

Day…”

I run my thumb across her nipple and it instantly perks.

Giving it a gentle pinch, I start massaging her breast. “So what?

We’ll celebrate it early…” I trail off as her head falls back and she becomes consumed by my touch. I slip my arm around her waist

and guide us down to the bed, laying her beneath me. “And then

we’ll celebrate it again on Valentine’s Day.”

“Okay,” she says with a look of ecstasy on her face, and then

her eyes shut. “Whatever you want.”

And she means it. She would do anything for me—she

already has. She gave up her secret, she gave me herself, she gave

me her love. And even though I can’t tell her yet, I feel the same

way about her. She owns me completely, uncontrollably,

irreversibly.

Callie

I’m so happy for him, and yet scared for him at the same

time. He’s found his brother and I just pray to God it goes well for

him—that his brother is a better person than the rest of the family.

Things have been going pretty well for the both of us. We’ve

both been seeing a therapist and I haven’t thrown up since before

the incident at the hospital over three months ago. I’m happy. And

the feeling is wonderful and amazing and scary.

It’s not always easy. Sometimes I have nightmares, especially

when the therapist makes me dig really deep into my hidden

thoughts. There was also one instant when I flipped out when

Kayden decided to try something new on me while we were having

sex and it momentarily threw my thoughts back to that horrible

day. He was great about it though and he held me while I cried it

off.

I’ve also been talking to my mom more, which hasn’t been

too bad. My dad and Jackson even call me. Caleb’s still missing

and I have a feeling he may be missing forever. I’m still not sure

how I feel about that. There’s a lot of confliction. Part of me wants him to suffer in prison, but part of me is glad he’s not in my life

anymore.

After Kayden tells me about his brother, we talk a little bit

about what he’s going to do, and then he starts to undress me.

After he runs his tongue over almost every spot of my body while I

cling onto him, he slips inside me and rocks his hips against mine.

“I love you,” I keep whispering through my moans as I knot

my fingers in his soft hair.

He nibbles at my neck and massages my breast with his hand

as he thrusts inside of me. “I know.”

It’s all he ever says. Or sometimes he doesn’t say anything.

It’s a one-sided conversation for now, but I keep saying it because

he needs to hear it—needs to know that he is loved. I hear it from

my parents, my grandparents, Seth, and sometimes even Jackson.

I’m lucky and I want him to feel lucky too.

Our hips writhe harmoniously together until we’re falling

over the edge. We both moan and I let out a whimper, which

always gets him excited. After we’re done, he lays inside of me,

with his arms resting to the side of my head. Our sweaty bodies

are pressed together and our hearts race with lingering adrenaline.

Eventually he lowers his head to my chest and rests his cheek

against my breast while I trace the back of his neck with my finger.

“What were you writing about?” he asks, staring at my journal

shoved to the side of the bed.

“Nothing,” I say. “Well, nothing fantastic. I was actually

writing a paper for the creative writing club. It’s supposed to be

nonfiction and I’m not very good at it.”

He pushes up off me and pulls himself out of me. Flopping

to his side, he extends his fingers for the notebook. I quickly sit up and snatch it from his hand, hugging it against my bare chest. “No

way. It’s private.”

He sits up, his skin glistening with sweat. His bare chest is

covered with jagged scars, small and big, dark and light.

Sometimes I stare at them while he’s sleeping, wondering where

each one came from. It’s kind of like a horrible painting of his

memories that will always exist, no matter what happens.

He crosses his arms over his chest, his muscles flexing, and

he frowns. “Oh come on, Callie. Just let me read one page. I’m

curious to see what you write about all the time.”

“It’s private. Some of the stuff… you might think I’m crazy.”

“I already think you’re crazy,” he jokes, lowering his arms

onto his lap. He slides across the bed toward me until he’s right in

front of me, and his face softens. “Please, just one page.” He’s

using his sexy voice on me, the one I have a hard time saying no

to.

Sighing, I fan through the pages until I come across the

nonfiction story I’ve been fighting to get out of my head and into

coherent sentences. “This is the story I’ve been working on. I’m not

very far into it and I’m not even sure if it makes sense yet.”

He takes the journal from my unsteady hands. It’s the first

time I’ve let anyone read anything I’ve written and it feels like I’m letting him have full insight into my head. Holding it in his hands,

he clears his throat and begins to read aloud.

“Where the Leaves Go.” He glances up at me and smiles.

“Nice title.”

I shake my head and lie down on my back, staring at the

cracks in the ceiling and trying to still the tempestuous beat of my

heart. “Please just hurry. You’re making me nervous.”

He chuckles underneath his breath and then starts to read. “I

remember when I was a child being fascinated by the leaves. They

were always changing: green pink, orange, yellow, brown. And

then eventually, when the air changed and chilled, they turned into

nothing. They’d fall from the branches of the trees and either

crumble and become a part of the ground or blow away in the

wind. They never really had any power over their movements.

They’d just go with the weather and wherever the wind would take

them, helpless, weak, incapable of control.

I remember when I was young, about thirteen. It was a rainy

spring day and the raindrops were splattering fiercely against the

earth and the wind was howling. I was sitting at my window,

watching the street flood and the leaves get carried away with the

rage of the water. They were all a flourishing green, in the prime of their life, just blooming, yet the rain and wind was destroying

them.

But there were these two leaves stuck to my bedroom

window that wouldn’t budge. They remained in place through the

windstorm and the temper of the rain, even when the water was

falling so heavily I couldn’t see through the glass.

I kept staring at the leaves, unable to take my eyes off them,

fascinated by their determination, even when the sky darkened

and the window howled so violently it shook the glass of the

window. I kept thinking about how strong they were and how they

were only leaves. Pieces of a tree, a plant, these little things that couldn’t think, make choices, do anything of their free will, yet they wouldn’t give in to the wind and rain and leave that damn window.

In a strange way, I envied them, the determination, passion, sheer

will not to give in and let something else take them to the end of

their life.

At the end of the storm, I fell asleep in my bed. When I woke

up, the sun was out and the land was drying. The leaves that

stayed attached to the tree branches were green and dewy. To my

surprise the leaves were gone from the window and it made me

kind of sad and I felt hopeless. The idea that they could survive

against the storm was bringing me a sense of comfort.

However, when I look back at it now, I wonder where they

went. Maybe they didn’t give up and let the wind and rain take

them away. Maybe they somehow found their way back to the

trees. Maybe they reconnected themselves to the branches and

continued to grow and flourish even after their temporary break.

Maybe they were strong enough to take control of their lives

again, revive themselves from their approaching death, force

themselves to start breathing again…” Kayden stops reading and

looks up at me with an undecipherable look.

I take my journal from his hands and cuddle it against my

chest. “I know it’s not really a story, just my thoughts. But it’s all I can come up with at the moment.”

He nods and doesn’t say a word. He drapes an arm around

my shoulder and steers me with him as he lies down on my bed

and rests his head on my pillow. I nuzzle my face against his chest,

breathing in the scent of him as I hug my notebook. I listen to his

heart in his chest and shut my eyes and inhale and exhale with the

sound of it.

“Callie,” he says after a long stretch of silence has gone by.

I inch my face closer to him and place a kiss on his chest.

“Yeah.”

“I think the leaves made it back to the trees.”

Three Weeks Later…

Kayden

Virginia is a pretty nice place, green, with lots of trees and

wildlife roaming around. It’s a little warmer than in Wyoming. At

least from what I can tell. I’ve only been here for about an hour

and most of the time I was stuck in the airport. I flew out alone,

even though Callie wanted to come with me. As much as I wanted

her to, I didn’t need to disrupt her life and her progress. “I’m only going out for a week,” I told her. “And I think it might be

something I need to do alone.” She seemed a little hurt, but she

understood and let me go without any more discussion of it.

After a very strange, somewhat awkward reunion with my