Chapter 30 Callum
CHAPTER THIRTY
CALLUM
I curl my fingers around the crinkly plastic emergency blanket the police handed to me. It’s the most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever worn, but it’s all I’ve got. My body shudders, not from any cold, but from shock.
What in the fuck just happened?
What in the fuck could have happened if Ian hadn’t shown up?
There’s a chance everything would have been fine. Campus police would have still shown up when they did, but my mom would have been a lot harder to disarm than Ian and that unloaded gun.
I shiver again. This blanket reflects warmth with a distinctly artificial quality—it’s too intense and insufficient at the same time.
The real warmth I need right now can only come from Ian, who’s currently handcuffed and bent over a fence like the criminal he isn’t.
My parents, on the other hand, are causing the biggest scene I’ve ever seen them start.
That’s saying something, especially given the hell they raised when the school handed out sex ed pamphlets.
Yeah, the incident that sparked my isolated homeschooling purgatory pales in comparison to watching my parents try to escape arrest.
Well, it’s my mom. She’s swinging her cuffed arms around and kicking at anyone who tries to get close to her, while my dad, as usual, is silent. He’s sitting in the back of a cop car, not saying a word.
A sick, intrusive chuckle rises from my throat and surfaces in a strangled bark. This is ridiculous.
Oh, good, my mom is being bundled into a cop car. Finally.
It only took three burly officers to contain her. It’s clear who the criminals are, and it’s not Ian.
“Again, he’s the one who got me out,” I say, to the police officer who’s holding Ian’s wrists down. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Callum, don’t say any more. Wait for my lawyer.” Ian’s breathing quickly and shaking—no, shivering, probably because he’s still in thin baseball pants and the temperature is plunging like the sun behind the horizon.
He’s always cold, and I don’t want him to be. I unhook the metallic blanket from my shoulders and gesture it toward him. The officer gives me a tired grunt before lifting Ian’s arms, letting me stick the blanket over Ian’s back and around his chest.
“You’re gonna freeze,” Ian says.
“I’m wearing jeans, flannel, and a sweater. You need this.”
The officer’s face firms up, but he doesn’t say anything, at least not for a few seconds.
He shuts his eyes, sighing. “What the hell,” he mutters.
“Okay, the elder Crosses have already volunteered enough information for us to determine that they’re the immediate priority for containment.
” He bends down and unlocks the cuffs. “Do not leave the scene, but you can wait inside for further instructions.”
“Thank you,” Ian says gruffly. He shakes himself off and straightens up, and it takes all of my willpower to not wrap around him like a tropical snake.
We’re escorted into the empty ballpark, and we slump down onto a bench, basking in the heating and silence. The game got canceled, obviously, and we’re the only two people here.
“Are you okay?” I ask, and Ian turns to me.
“Are you?” He runs a hand through his hair before latching onto me. “Fuck, you’re still shaking.”
“I gave you the blanket.”
My joke only puts a quivering smile at one corner of his mouth, and he silently drapes half of the plastic sheet over me. I curl into it and suck in a breath. It now smells like him. Like home.
I just want to go home.
The two of us fall further into silence.
Come to think of it, this is the first bout of silence I can remember where it’s anything less than comfortable.
With Ian, it’s always mutual and right, not because we don’t know what to say.
That’s what’s happening now, but I can’t bring myself to change that.
Ian does. “Callum, how are you not a total wreck right now?”
“Because you showed up,” I say plainly. “I can’t put into words how grateful I am that you stood up for me. I just closed off and didn’t say anything until the end after you showed up.”
Scoffing, he plants a gentle hand on my thigh. “Yeah, until you scarred your mom by telling her about our kinky bedroom escapades.”
A blush surges up from my chest, through my neck, and into my face. I still can’t believe I said all that, but it sure drove the point home that I’m too far gone for her and Dad to “save.”
“Right, but you’re the one who said everything I always wanted to,” I murmur.
Ian shrugs. “Hey, someone had to. Thanks for giving me the honor.”
“And you did it at gunpoint,” I add. “That was kind of badass.”
Shuddering, he tenses up. “I never want to do that ever again. God. Callum, your mom swiped your dad’s gun and tried to shoot you. I just jumped at the chance to take it away.”
“Look, I don’t want to speculate about whether my mom would have tried to shoot me for real,” I say, swallowing hard, which doesn’t help to dissolve the tense lump in my throat. “The gun was unloaded, I know that, and I’ll unpack the rest in therapy. All that matters now is that they’re gone.”
Ian gives me a weak smile. “You’re free.”
“I am.”
Thanks to him. Again, he’s the one who stepped in to stand up for me, and guilt creeps through my body.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry you got caught up in this,” I say. “None of this should have happened.”
Ian swivels his head at me, his eyes wide. “You’re right that this shouldn’t have happened, but it was on your parents to not act like idiots.” He pauses, placing his hand on mine. “I did what I had to in the moment to keep you safe.”
“It wasn’t your responsibility—”
“Stop, Callum.” Gripping my hand tighter and sending sparks flying up my arm and into my stomach, he chuckles. “I’ve never been in a relationship before you, but helping you is what I signed up for. It’s what I do. That means I get to love you, and my god, I love you to fucking bits.”
“Stop it, you’re gonna make me cry,” I say, chuckling to try distracting myself from the tears pricking my eyes.
“My shoulder’s free if you need it, because I’m not done. I’ll never be done loving you, Callum. You make that impossible. I said it last week to my team, and I'll say it to you now—I’d take a bullet for you.”
That does it for me. I shut my eyes, letting tears spill out of the sides and run down my face.
I haven’t cried like this in years, not since I confirmed to myself that I was gay in the dark hours of the morning when I was fourteen.
Back then, I was resigned and terrified, not knowing what was laid out for me.
Back then, I was already petrified of anything sexual, with lust being the ultimate sin in my family.
I thought I’d automatically catch some horrible illness if I so much as touched someone else with any kind of intention.
Add being gay on top of that, I couldn’t see a difference between life and death, because to me, both looked like hell.
How wrong I was—crying still yanks at my heart, tightening my chest and making me choke on every other breath I take, but now, I’m going through that with a smile.
Ian isn’t the one who pulled me out of my dark spiral and onto a better path—that was me, and the constant decision to get better is still on me to make.
If anything, he’s grounding. He’s stable.
He’s a walking, talking, living personification of kindness, and he makes it so clear that I deserve that.
He tells me constantly, and I’m starting to believe it—I deserve what he gives me.
“I love you so much,” I croak out, wiping my face with the front of my hand. “You’re the best.”
He wraps around me, holding tight. “I’m only trying to be good for you.”
“You’re…you’re more than the guy I imagined when I was younger. I was stretching my reality at the seams just to think about being with someone, and I didn’t know anyone as good as you even existed in real life.”
“Okay, you’re going to make me cry now, so fuck you,” he says, snickering. “We’re ridiculous, aren’t we?”
I nod, returning his choked-up laughter.
Adrenaline is a wild thing. Case in point: it has us making tearful, emotional confessions under the harsh fluorescent lighting of a deserted college athletic facility, huddled together beneath a police blanket.
Love exists and persists, no matter the environment.
Our tender moment is breached abruptly with the arrival of a different police officer, who’s carrying a stack of papers. She slows her pace as she gets closer—I guess seeing two guys crying gives her some pause.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I have an update…” she says, stopping a few steps away from us.
“That’s fine. We were just waiting for one,” Ian replies.
“Okay,” she continues. “It’s getting late, and the students we spoke to all informed us that the elder Crosses instigated this afternoon’s events.”
Ian and I nod.
“You’ll both need to send us written statements within five days.” She hands two thin stacks of paper to us. “This contains details on where to send your statements, as well as how to proceed. I’m here if you have any questions, but otherwise, you’re free to go.”
“Thank you,” Ian says. He turns to me, eyes soft, and I purse my lips.
“I don’t have any questions,” I supply.
“Of course.” The officer clasps her hands. “There’s contact information in the dossier if that changes.” Giving us a quick, polite nod, she backs away and leaves the building.
Ian stands up and extends an arm. “Home?”
“Please. I want to go home.”
Hand in hand, we do just that.