Chapter 8 Damsel in Distress
Damsel in Distress
? White Horse - Chris Stapleton
Callie
A sharp rap at my car window startles me awake. I reach beneath my pillow and wrap my trembling hand around the taser I keep on my keychain. When I peer out into the night, I meet Jaxon’s penetrating stare.
My body tenses. I know better than to let my guard down around any man, even the ones you think you can trust. Jaxon’s been bringing his nieces to the library every Tuesday for the last three weeks, and more than once, I’ve found a jar of pickles waiting for me in the break room fridge.
That doesn’t mean he won’t turn on a dime.
“What are you doing out here?” His voice is muffled by the door, but I can still make out the distinct undercurrent of concern. “You’ll freeze to death.”
Jax takes a step back as I open the door and work my way out of the confines of my temporary home.
“Please tell me you’re not living like this,” he says with an air of disapproval.
I look everywhere else but at Jaxon, a pit forming in my stomach. Humiliation wars with the desire to finally confide in someone. My pride wins out. “It’s temporary. Just until I can find an apartment.”
He leans a hand on the roof above my head, looming over me. My heart rate speeds up as I clutch the canister in my fist. Part of me wants to let my guard down because it’s Jaxon, but a much larger part of me is still fearful.
“How long?” he asks.
“I’m fine, Jax.”
His jaw ticks, and he speaks through gritted teeth, “How long have you been living in your fucking car, Callie?”
I arch backward on instinct. “A while."
Close to five months, but he’s not entitled to that information. We’re friends at best, nothing more.
“Jesus fuck. Do you know how dangerous that is? Somebody could’ve—” He steps back and rakes his hand through his hair. That little bit of distance provides me with enough courage to defend myself.
“I know! I don’t need a lecture from some nepo baby who’s never known hardship in his life. I know what people are capable of.”
His brow furrows as he studies my face. He’s too close, and his gaze is far too discerning.
“What are you doing here anyway?”
He gestures toward Lunar Ink, the tattoo parlor across the street. “Touch up. Does Mo know about this?”
My eyes cut away from his face, and I shake my head.
“So, you’re not only putting yourself in danger, but you’re also lying to your best friend about it.”
“Look, I didn’t ask for your judgment. I’m doing just fine, surviving on my own.”
“Surviving?” Something like sympathy—or worse, pity—flashes across his features. “Is that what this is? Is that why you’re freezing all alone in a parked car? Or is this you being stubborn again?”
I can’t think of a response that might placate him, so I settle for saying nothing at all.
“How did this happen?” His tender voice quiets my fear. He steps into my space and glides his hands up and down my arms, warming me with his touch.
I should pull away, but I don’t. Against my better judgment, I like the feel of his hands on me.
“Long story short, my apartment building burned down, and I couldn’t find anywhere affordable. Plus, most places won’t allow pets without an insane deposit.”
Jaxon peers over my shoulder into the dark car with a curious expression. “You have a dog in there with you?”
“Atticus is a cat, and he’s living with Mo until I find a place.” Anticipating the next line of questioning, I continue, “Mo thinks my new apartment doesn’t allow pets.”
“Well, you’re in luck. I have a spare bedroom and a soft spot for strays.”
“I can’t afford—”
“You can’t stay here, Callie. I can’t, in good conscience, walk away knowing you’re putting yourself in danger. Not when I could’ve helped.” He squeezes my hand, but it feels like he’s squeezing my heart instead. “You don’t have to pay rent, and you can stay as long as you need.”
I cross my arms over my chest, adopting a defiant stance. My sister always said I had a stubborn streak a country mile wide. I never blamed her for escaping when she had the chance, but a part of me has always resented her for it. Maybe if she’d stayed, I wouldn’t be in this position.
I shake myself out of the memory. “I didn’t ask for a knight in shining armor to rescue me.”
“Maybe not, but I can saddle up a white horse if it would make this more convincing.” He tugs open the driver’s side door. “Get in. You can follow me home."
My teeth chatter as I lose the battle against the cold air seeping through my clothes. “I’m not a stray cat you can lure back to your house with the promise of treats.”
“I don’t remember offering you any treats, but if it helps, I have heat and running water.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “I could throw in something real special—like electricity, too.”
I bite the inside of my cheek in a paltry attempt to stifle a grin. He makes it so difficult to stay mad at him. “Seriously, Jax. I can’t impose on you like that.”
“If my mama found out I left you sitting out here in the cold, she’d threaten to tan my hide and come down here herself.”
The promise of warmth and modern convenience is enough to break through my stubborn exterior. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself. It has absolutely nothing to do with his charm or his stupidly handsome face. As much as I want to exert my independence, I can’t bring myself to turn him down.
“Fine.”
He closes the door, looking like a cat that got the canary, and walks across the street to where he parked his truck.
Jax pulls his powder blue Chevy onto the road, and I follow close behind. Somewhere on the outskirts of Oak Ridge, my shitty little hatchback decides it’s done playing nice, and smoke starts billowing from beneath the hood, clouding my vision. I honk for Jaxon to stop as I pull onto the shoulder.
They say when life gives you lemons, you should make lemonade, but what do you do if life is just lobbing rotten ones at your head over and over again?
I rest my forehead on my arms against the steering wheel and release a sound somewhere between a screech and a wail. Out of the corner of my eyes, Jaxon’s taillights coming into view as he pulls up ahead of me and gets out of his truck. I roll down my window and turn my head to the side.
I scrunch my nose. “You still interested in rescuing a damsel in distress?”
One side of his mouth tips up into the crooked grin I’ve tried not to notice. In spite of myself, I can’t help the warmth that spreads throughout my entire body.
“Maybe,” he says. “What’s in it for me?”
“I’ll forgive the overdue fees for that fantasy book you borrowed last month.”
“You drive a hard bargain, but I accept.”
He tugs open my door, and before I can register what’s happening, he scoops me up bridal style and carries me to his truck. I cling to his neck, certain he’s going to drop me.
He doesn’t so much as flinch.
I pat his shoulder. “Put me down. I need to get my stuff.”
“I already called a tow. They’re on their way here now. Your stuff will be right behind you.”
“When did you have time to call a tow?”
“Sometime between when your car started smoking and when you started screaming like a banshee.”
“I did not scream like a banshee.”
“You did,” he says. “But you’re a very cute banshee.”
He sets me on my feet near the passenger side door and holds it open for me. “Your carriage awaits, m’lady.”
“Good to know chivalry isn’t dead, at least.”
I slide into the passenger seat and buckle in. Jaxon turns on the radio and pulls back onto the road, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel to an old nineties power ballad.
A short while later, the headlights pan across the ranch gate as we pull onto the property.
I’m probably one of the very few people who’s never been to Whispering Oaks Ranch.
Every year, I say I’ll come to the annual fall festival, and every year, something comes up.
This year, I’d planned to accompany Mo, but my entire life went up in flames—literally.
We pull up to a large A-frame cabin with a wide porch stretching around the front and two of those tall rocking chairs placed perfectly side by side like they’re waiting for some old couple to sit down with their morning coffee and talk about the good old days.
Everything about this feels a bit like a study in humiliation. I don’t like asking for help, and I like sitting with the discomfort of accepting it even less.
The reality of my situation becomes more potent the longer I stare at Jaxon’s perfect storybook home. I’m an interloper. I don’t belong here. I don’t belong anywhere. I haven’t for a very long time.
Jaxon
Five months. That’s how long my Callie has been homeless. Five months, and she never once asked for help.
My sister’s fiancé, Liam, was one of the firefighters on scene when that apartment building burned down. Ruby almost lost Liam that day, and I almost lost Callie—I just didn’t know it. The timing lines up perfectly with when she ghosted me.
Christ, Bluebird. Why didn’t you ask for help?
The silence on the drive home gave me way too much time to think about every horrible thing that could’ve happened to her, every worst-case scenario played out in my mind alongside my worst memories. I can’t lose another person I care about.
I glance at her side profile, dimly lit by the glow of the moonlight overhead. She doesn’t seem real.
“Callie—”
She sighs deeply. “If you’re going to start in on me about the dangers of being a woman all alone in this big, scary world, can it wait? I’m tired.”
Her voice is dull and lifeless, not at all like the self-assured woman I’ve come to know.
It’s possible the public version of Callie is a mask for a much more broken person, and I understand more than I’d like to admit.
I’m not so naive to think she felt comfortable enough to let her guard down with me, but I’m foolish enough to hope.
“I was only going to ask if you’re hungry. Family dinner just ended, and I’d bet my last dollar they’ve got leftovers up at the big house.”
She gives me a tight-lipped nod, keeping her gaze focused out the windshield. I want to reach for her and offer some sort of comfort, but I’ve already crossed far too many boundaries tonight. I have a feeling her pride won’t let her accept much more.
Not a moment too soon, the tow truck pulls up behind us. “Why don’t you head inside? I’ll pay for the tow and grab us something to eat.”
“I can get it. I just need to grab my purse from the car.”
I shake my head and place my keys in the palm of her hand. The touch sends a jolt of electricity straight to my heart. “I’ve got it.”
She purses her lips. “You’ve done enough. I can pay for the tow.”
I’m going to break through this stubborn streak of hers. I don’t know what she’s been through that’s made her so self-reliant. I hope someday she’ll feel comfortable enough to open up to me.
The tow truck driver hops out of the truck, and I recognize another of my old high school classmates instantly. “Tripp. Good to see you, buddy. What do I owe you?”
Callie steps up beside me, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s too damn cute to ever be intimidating.
Tripp looks between the two of us with a raised brow. “It’ll be one hundred twenty-five dollars. How’ve you been?”
The question feels a lot like staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. Tripp grew up next door to Ryan. He took the loss almost as hard as I did. We haven’t spoken much since, but I see him around town from time to time. He’s married with two boys and another one on the way.
It seems everybody I used to know is moving on with their lives, doing all the big things people are expected to do when they grow up: falling in love, starting a family.
Everyone but me. I can’t imagine reaching those milestones when Ryan won’t ever experience them.
His dreams were always so much bigger than he was, and I have no doubt he would’ve seen every single one of them come true had he lived long enough.
I give him a thin smile and say the thing everyone says when they can’t think of anything better. “Livin’ the dream. This is Callie.”
She lifts her hand in a wave, and he returns the gesture with a nod of acknowledgement.
“Your car?” he asks.
“Yeah. I just need to grab my purse.”
“Not a chance in hell,” I tell her. “I’m covering the tow, and my buddy Tripp here is gonna let me.”
He holds up his hands and backs away. “Hey, don’t bring me into this lover’s quarrel.”
Callie responds way too quickly. “We’re not lovers.”
“Sure.” Trip’s shoulders shake with silent laughter, and he walks away from the scene shaking his head.
She elbows me in the ribs, pinning me with a glare. “Seriously?”
I tap her nose, then slide my hands into my pockets. “You’re cute when you’re mad. Like one of those fluffy red pandas.”
“Your mouth is gonna get you in trouble one of these days.”
I take one measured step toward her. “Why don’t you ask me what else this mouth can do, Callie baby?”
She rolls her eyes and chews on the inside of her cheek. “You’re insufferable.”
“What’s that? I’m adorable? That’s so sweet.”
She walks away in a huff, and I’m not too proud to admit that I take her in from every angle until she’s safely behind closed doors. She’s a goddamn temptation. Moving her here might’ve been a grave mistake on my part.
Tripp releases Callie’s car from the flatbed and tosses me the keys. “Good to go.”
“Thanks, man.”
We exchange numbers with the empty promise to join him for a drink sometime. I send him on his way with an extra tip, but there’s no way in hell I’m taking him up on that. Those memories and the people associated with them can stay in the past where they belong. I have no desire to relive them.