Chapter Twenty-Three
Cal
I ’m numb as Roan drives my truck. Jordy sits in the back seat with Sonya. Everyone is quiet. Nervous. Happy, but also worried. The moment I snapped out of my daze after Jordy told me Trey woke up, I scrambled for clothes and flew out the door without so much as a goodbye to Charlotte.
Guilt niggles at me, but I can’t worry about her right now. Charlotte will be fine. She has Roux and Penny there. I need to focus on my best friend.
“Grandma hasn’t responded since she called this morning,” Sonya mutters. “You think he’s okay?”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Roan states as we pull into the hospital parking lot. “Probably just busy talking to him is all.”
He parks my truck and we all pile out. I lead the Hornets, stalking through the hospital like a man on a mission. We find his room but are stopped by a nurse.
“He can have two people in there at a time—” the nurse starts as Sonya pushes past.
I want to yank her back by her ponytail, but I know I don’t have that right. T is her cousin. Her blood. I scowl, nodding at the nurse, and walk with Jordy and Roan over to a waiting area. Jordy plops down beside Roan and I sit across from them. They wear matching worried frowns. I scrub my palm over my face, getting a whiff of her .
Charlotte fucking English.
Last night had been completely messed up. I lost my mind with her. That’s not who I am. I fuck around with girls. We have a good time. Laugh. Play. Tease.
I certainly don’t hurt them.
Completely wreck them.
Try to devour their fucking souls.
She’s so beautiful and there’s a magnetic pull with Charlotte. Something about her calls to the baser parts of me. If I could carve her out of my mind, I would, but she’s not going to allow it. With each encounter, she burrows deeper and deeper and deeper.
My phone buzzes with a text. I pull it out of my jeans pocket and stare at her words.
Charlie Girl: Is he okay? How are you?
Stupid questions I don’t know the answers to. I don’t respond and instead rise to my feet. Sitting still is too hard. Not when my best fucking friend is on the other side of that door. He needs me and I need him. I’d do anything right now just to see his smile. To hear his infectious laugh.
Sonya shows up out of nowhere, her eyes wide and her body trembling. I grab her shoulders and give her a shake.
“What’s wrong?” I demand.
She blinks slowly, her chin quivering. “You can go see for yourself.”
I tear off running down the hall and push into the room where a doctor, a nurse, and Rose are crowding Trey’s bed. They have him sitting up, speaking lowly to him.
“T,” I bark out, rushing over to the foot of the bed so I can see him.
His face is screwed up in pain, wet tear streaks on his sunken cheeks. The uneven shape of his head is jarring. I’d noticed it before, but seeing him upright and awake only makes it more real. They did a real shit job of patching up my boy.
He lets out a pained moan, writhing in the bed. I’m horror-stricken. I don’t know what to do. Absently, I touch his foot over the blanket.
“Give him something for the pain,” I hiss to the doctor. “He’s hurting.”
“We have,” the doctor assures me. “Part of this is him just coming out of it. We need to give him time to adjust.” Then, to Trey, he says, “Can you try opening your eyes again, Trey?”
A low, child-like whimper rasps out of Trey’s throat, shredding my heart. He sobs as though it’s too painful. His knees draw up and his hands curl into bony fists.
“It’s okay, Trey,” Rose urges. “Cal’s come to see you. Go on and look at him.”
Trey’s bottom lip wobbles and snot runs from his nose. Rose dabs at it with a tissue. After several minutes, he cracks open his eyes. Slowly, he opens them wider. They lock on me briefly before they roll back and he howls in pain. I swallow hard, trying not to fucking cry too. His leg stretches out again. I grip his foot, trying to send strength his way.
“Give him the rest,” the doctor instructs the nurse.
She proceeds to inject something into one of his lines. He’s still trembling and twitching, but when it finally hits his system, his entire body relaxes. A groan escapes him and it sounds like relief. It’s gutting. His breathing evens out.
“Is he going back into a coma?” I choke out. “He’s been sleeping for months. How can he sleep now?”
“Not a coma,” the doctor assures me. “Just rest. Why don’t you leave him be for a bit?”
I walk away from him back to the waiting room, my lashes wet and my heart aching. Is this how it’ll always be? Will he be in pain forever?
“That bad?” Jordy asks, frowning.
Roan is trying to comfort Sonya as she cries. I know how she feels.
“Will he ever be the same?” I choke out, searching Jordy’s dark eyes like he has all the answers. “Will he?”
His lips flatten out. “I don’t think he could go through what he did and ever come out the same, man.”
I fall helplessly into a chair and rip at my hair. I only stop the self-abuse when Sonya sits down in my lap, needing comfort.
This can’t be his life.
It has to get better.
It has to.
It’s after midnight by the time I decide to reply to Charlotte. I spent the entire day at the hospital in and out of Trey’s room, checking on him. Each time, he seemed in such agony. So confused. Afraid. All it did was charge this violent storm of emotions inside me.
Spinning and spinning and spinning.
I feel out of control with madness and rage.
The urge to blame Charlotte is overwhelming.
She got behind that wheel. She did this to him.
It’s the only reason I can explain why I’m sitting outside the door of her dad’s loft. Needing to see her. To blame and punish her. To fucking yell at her.
Don’t think of her soft, silky hair.
Don’t think of her brave blue eyes.
Don’t think of the way she feels like a perfect fit in my arms.
Don’t. Fucking. Think. Of. That.
Instead, I try to remind myself of the drugged out girl who caused all this heartache and pain. I try to remember her. Not my Charlie girl. Charlotte fucking English.
My hands tremble as I shoot her a text.
Me: I’m outside.
I wait for a couple of minutes and then the soft click of the lock tells me she’s here. The door creaks open, revealing the monster to me.
Beautiful goddamn monster.
I’m shaking with anger mixed with need. I want to pull her to me and hug her. I also want to call her every name in the book. Instead, I do nothing. I wait for her to come to me. Slowly, she steps into the hallway, looking too innocent. I want to dig deep and find the horrible person who did this to Trey.
Where is she?
The girl standing in front of me with her messy blond hair and toned, bare legs isn’t her. This is my fucking girl . Not that monster.
She approaches, her brows furled in concern, hands tentatively reaching like she’s afraid to touch me. It makes me wonder what I look like. Is anger billowing from me like the heat of a bonfire? Is there wildness in my eyes? What makes her afraid to come closer?
I snag her wrist, yanking her toward me. Her palm rests on my chest as she stares up at me. My heart beats hard, trying to escape its cage, and there’s no doubt she can feel it. I grip her jaw, searching her eyes for something I can latch onto and rage over. All I find is worry and sadness.
I can’t take it.
I can’t take her.
My throat hurts trying to keep my emotions at bay. Holding it all in is painful. I release her, dropping my arms to my sides. If I keep touching her, I’ll do something regrettable.
Soft fingertips crawl up my neck and then caress my jaw. I close my eyes when her lips press to mine, unable to kiss her back. Gently, she runs her fingers into my hair and massages my scalp. Tension bleeds from me as I relax at her touch.
I expect words, but she has none for me.
Honestly, the words would set me off. Her touch does wonders to calm the storm raging inside of me. I drop my head down, my forehead resting against hers. Finally, I reopen my eyes to stare at her. This close, she has direct access right into my head. I hope she can see all the pain and heartache because I can’t keep it all in anymore.
The urge to touch her is overwhelming. This time, I don’t want to cause pain. I need to filter mine out through her. Maybe her touch will make it feel better. I grip her hips, tightening my hold as I draw her nearer. She angles her head, slanting her mouth over mine. I accept the kiss this time, greedily searching for relief in her taste. Her slick tongue that tastes like toothpaste cools the heat burning inside me. I want to suck it all off her tongue and keep her locked in my arms forever. My palms slide to her ass over her skimpy sleep shorts. I grab a handful of her ass, squeezing. Her breath hitches when I run my fingers along the underside of the fabric, touching her bare skin beneath.
“Come inside,” she pleads. “You’re tired. You need rest.”
I let her lead me inside, wondering how I lost the hateful fire and instead sought solace in her. She locks the apartment and leads me to her room. Once we reach the dark space, she crouches down to remove my shoes. Then, she unbuckles my jeans. As soon as they hit the floor, she works at pulling off my shirt.
“Come to bed, baby,” she murmurs, taking my hand, urging me to go with her.
Fuck, I’m so tired.
Emotionally drained.
Fading fast.
Like a fucking wussy, I let my fucking girl help me into bed. She covers me up with the blankets and then curls around me like she has the power to hold me together despite my rapid shattering.
I toy with a strand of her hair, scowling into the darkness. “I came here to yell at you.”
“Do you want to yell at me?”
“Not anymore.”
She finds my lips with hers, pressing a soft kiss there. “You can yell later if you feel like it. Sleep now. Let me hold you.”
The last bit of energy dissipates in the air around us. I fade into the darkness, thankful for the reprieve from the anguish. I’m a devilish man with cruel intentions, but instead of acting on them, I let the angel kiss away all the bad.
“Don’t let me go,” I murmur, half asleep.
“Never, Cal. I’m never letting you go.”