Chapter 4
Chapter Four
The Hero
The first time I saw Calliope Juliet Thorne was when she was six and I was nine.
Until then I’d only heard rumors.
I knew that people called her the Thorne Princess.
The little sister of the four Thorne brothers.
People said that she could melt the snow with her sweet smiles. She could melt people with her shining blue eyes. Especially her brothers.
Whose hearts she held in the palms of her hands.
When she danced, people watched. When she spun, people stopped moving. They said no one danced like her.
The first time I saw her, that’s what she was doing.
Dancing on the playground, by the rusted swing set.
I don’t remember a lot about that day but I do remember watching her. No one had to tell me who she was. I already knew.
Because I couldn’t stop. Watching her, I mean.
I couldn’t look anywhere else when she leapt and jumped and spun on her toes.
And then I remember walking toward her.
I don’t know what made me do that but one second I was standing still and the next, I’d started moving.
It was as if she was gravity.
A blue-eyed, blonde-haired force of nature.
And good thing too because somewhere in her spinning and leaping, she lost her balance. But I got there just in time to catch her.
I grabbed her arm, and this part I distinctly remember.
I distinctly remember leaving muddy fingerprints on her skin, on her dress.
I remember dirtying her up because I guess before I saw her, I was playing ball or something and my hands were all messed up. I remember wanting to snatch them away, to keep her all clean, and yet all I did was hold her harder.
And when she stared up at me with her big blue eyes and said ‘thank you’ in a voice that reminded me of the cotton candy that my sister liked, there was no chance that I was letting her go.
But I had to.
Because her brothers descended on me.
By then I was familiar with them. With Ledger Thorne specifically.
We went to different schools but I’d heard about him. I’d heard about his older brothers too, soccer legends all and so he had to be one as well.
I fucking hated them for it.
I fucking hated them for their glory, their talent.
For the fact that I’d always seen them together around town, with their oldest brother Conrad leading the charge. Watching out for his siblings.
I fucking hated that they had each other when my sister and I had no one, not even decent parents.
And strangely in that moment, I hated them for leaving their sister alone and unattended.
For not watching over her, for almost letting her fall so that I had to swoop in and save her.
But whatever.
They were all there now and they’d pushed me away so they could take care of her and they could all go fuck themselves.
I didn’t even know why I’d saved her in the first place.
Why I cared enough to save her.
Their sister was their responsibility, not mine.
Angry at myself, I walked away and I kept walking even when I heard her say in that sweet, cotton candy voice, But he saved me…
Again, whatever.
I don’t think she remembers that day. A random kid from the playground saving her from falling.
Why would she?
I don’t even know why I remember it, let alone why I’m thinking about it right now.
Maybe because I just saw her after two years at that shitty bar.
Maybe because I’d forgotten how small she is.
How short and fragile.
How easy to pick up and carry away.
Most of all I think I’d forgotten how she looked when she danced. How enchanting, hypnotizing.
Enthralling.
Like a true fairy.
They didn’t lie, did they? All those people who talked about her when she was little.
No one dances like her.
And she does hold her brothers’ hearts in her hands.
Because I used that two years ago. The fact that they all love her to death and will do anything for her.
I didn’t set out to do that though.
Just to be clear.
I didn’t set out to play with her heart and then break it.
I can be cruel and heartless, but using her wasn’t my plan.
In fact, I stayed away from her.
I stayed away even when she showed up at my party in the woods two years ago, looking all innocent and lost. As if stepping out of a dream. I even followed the pact, the stupid fucking pact, that I’d made with her brother later.
We’d decided that we wouldn’t bring each other’s sisters into our rivalry and I agreed.
I agreed even when she made it really hard to stay away from her. I agreed even when she dangled herself in front of me at every turn, looking like a perfect opportunity.
Looking like a shiny trophy.
But.
The thing to understand is that I needed to win that day. I needed to be the reigning champion of Bardstown High.
I needed that title.
I hadn’t won the previous year. That jackass, Ledger, won by one measly goal and stole the title from me. Just like he stole the captainship.
The captainship that belonged to me.
But Conrad Thorne, our coach and Ledger’s brother, didn’t like my playing style. He thought I was reckless and selfish and didn’t think about the team.
Well, I fucking carried that team. Who cared if I thought about them or not?
So yeah, I needed that win.
I needed it because I knew it would upset my father. It would upset him greatly, and let’s just say it’s my life’s mission to upset my old man.
I’m a generous son that way.
I’d decided that I would serve that win to my father on a silver platter and that’s what I did.
Again, just to make it clear, I waited until the last moment. To use her, I mean.
I waited until I had no other choice. I waited until Ledger had the ball and he was about to score. And there was no other way to steal the ball — and in turn the win — except using his sister against him.
Besides, as I told her that night, I did her a favor.
Yeah, I remember what I told her that night. Even though I was massively drunk, I remember.
I also remember that she was knitting me sweaters, for God’s sake. She was lying to her brothers to be with me. She was getting way too involved. And it needed to be stopped.
I’m not the kind of guy who dates or does relationships, and I’d already told her that, didn’t I?
But she didn’t listen, apparently, and I had to take matters into my own hands.
But none of that matters anymore: the championship win, the stupid rivalry, the fact that I broke her heart for it all. Because I ended up at the same place.
I ended up where I never wanted to be. In Bardstown.
Inside my father’s study, back in our house.
It’s been two years since I’ve been inside this room. Two years since I’ve seen these leather couches; these polished hardwood floors and the wall-to-wall mahogany bookcase with all the shiny books that my dad never reads, since he’s not into books or education.
He’s into money. And according to my dad, good education doesn’t always mean good money.
Look at him for example, he’s a high school dropout who helped his dad start a construction company when he was only eighteen. That went on to become this multi-million-dollar empire that he presides over today.
But anyway, I haven’t been inside this room for a long time and I’d forgotten how suffocating this space is. How it feels like something is wrapped around my throat, a phantom noose of some sort, and my father’s evil fingers are tightening it and tightening it.
Until I can’t breathe.
Yeah, I’ve never been able to breathe around my father.
But that’s not the problem right now, my suffocation.
The problem is that there’s this woman, standing just inside my father’s study, who’s currently running her left hand down my arm.
She has long, blood red nails.
That she probably pays a lot for. For the upkeep, I mean.
My father would want nothing less.
Nothing less than pretty manicured nails to scratch his old, shriveled-up balls.
The fact that I can think about my father in those terms without throwing up all over these hardwood floors is a testament to how far I’ve come.
I think I also deserve credit for not throwing up on her shoes. What’s her name again? Cindy, Sydney? Stephanie?
I don’t know. She’s new here. I think.
All my father’s secretaries look the same to me. They’re always young and pretty and blonde. They’re always very eager to please.
Him and also me for some reason.
To that effect, this new one smiles at me, her lips as red as her nails. “Good night, Mr. Jackson.”
“Reed,” I push out somehow. “Just Reed.”
Her smile widens as she looks up at me. “Reed.”
All right, that was a bad idea I think. Asking her to call me by my name. It makes me want to throw up even more. But then I hate to be called by my father’s name so really it’s a toss-up.
“Were you on your way out?” I ask her in my most polite voice.
She must be; it’s definitely not normal office hours and I almost crashed into her as soon as I entered my father’s study.
Smiling, she peers at me through her lashes. “Yes. I was leaving. I was just… helping your dad with something.”
“I bet you were,” I murmur. “What a hard-working employee you are.”
“I try my best.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
Her smile knows no bounds, and then something occurs to me. Something extremely disturbing given the fact that she’s still touching me.
“Are you a lefty?” I ask.
She looks slightly taken aback by my question but whatever. If she refuses to take her hand off me, then I need to know.
She glances down at her fingers on my arm. “Uh, yeah. Why?”
Fantastic.
I was afraid of that.
I was afraid that her hand might’ve touched other things — things like those shriveled-up balls that I was talking about — before it touched me.
Aaand there you go. The bile is up to my teeth now.
“You look like one,” I reply, clearing my throat. “Well, allow me to get out of your way and let you leave.”
I step to the side and thankfully her hand falls away.
She gives me a heated look before nodding. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Yeah, not a fucking chance in hell.
The moment I see her at the office tomorrow, I’m turning around and walking out of the building.