Chapter 6 #2
And my heart is thudding in my chest. My heart that’s broken and beaten and so painful to live with is pounding and pounding as I wait for my brother to say something.
Anything.
As I hear his words over and over.
I didn’t bring your brother that deal…
“Nothing,” Conrad clips.
“What?”
“I did nothing.”
“I don’t understand.”
His exhale is sharp and short. “I didn’t have to do anything. It was him.”
The way my brother says him, I don’t have to ask who he’s talking about. His tone is all harsh and clipped and self-explanatory.
“W-what do you mean?” I ask.
“It means that I was all ready to go to court and fight this thing. I was all ready to hire a lawyer and teach that rich prick a lesson. But he called me and he said that he’d gotten all the charges reduced and all you had to do was attend St. Mary’s.
I was opposed to it. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like his fucking face.
And I told him that. I told him that I’d go to court and fight his bullshit charge.
And that fucking punk reminded me that even if I did go to court, I would never win.
Because the Jacksons own the town. They own the police, the judges, the lawyers.
And so this was the only way. And when I told him that I was going to break his fucking face for what he did to you, he was generous enough to say that I was welcome to it.
Only I’d have to take a fucking number because Ledger wanted to get there first.”
Conrad has never ever spoken so many words together, in one conversation.
And the fact that he did it now convinces me that he still has a lot of anger inside of him. At me, at him.
At his old star player.
Con has always hated the rivalry between Ledger and Reed. But he’s especially hated Reed for being reckless and selfish on the field.
But I don’t get it.
Why have me arrested in the first place and then have the charges reduced? Just like that.
“W-why would he bring you the deal when he was the one who pressed charges?”
A moment passes.
Then two, and I’m about to prod him because I can’t take it anymore, but Conrad breaks his silence. “It wasn’t him.”
“What?”
“It was his father.”
“His father?”
“Yes.”
“B-but they said Mr. Jackson and…”
“He’s not the only Mr. Jackson, is he?”
He isn’t, no.
He’s not the only Mr. Jackson.
But for the life of me it never ever occurred to me that his dad would be involved. The man I’d never even seen. Not once in all the times that I’d been to their house.
He was always either away for business or at the office.
I saw their mom once though.
She was on the balcony, looking so small and beautiful with her blonde hair fluttering in the wind. I guess Tempest and Reed both get their dark hair from their father.
The man who had me arrested for stealing his son’s car.
“So you… knew this the whole time?”
“Yes.”
Oh my God.
I press a hand on my stomach and lean against the booth.
All this time, I thought it was him.
Because it was his car, the thing that he loved the most. So it made sense that he’d want to punish me for stealing it. And strangely, those charges hurt me even more.
Because he cared about his car more than he ever cared about me. Which I knew already but still.
He didn’t though.
He didn’t.
He had the charges reduced. He… he brought my brother the deal.
I can barely draw a proper breath or form a coherent thought in my head. But still, I make myself ask my brother, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why do you think?”
“You knew that I thought it was him. You knew that. Why didn’t you tell me if you knew?” I ask, tears welling up in my eyes.
“Because you’re na?ve, Callie,” he snaps, his voice making me flinch, and my tears fall harder.
“Because I didn’t want you to paint him as a hero who swooped in to save you after everything that he did.
Because I wanted to protect you. Because I wanted you to be smart.
I wanted you to move on and live your life and think about your future.
I didn’t want you to waste your life over a guy like him.
A guy you almost destroyed your life for.
A guy who broke your heart and made you cry. ”
God, I wish I could hide myself somewhere. I wish I could stop this shame from spreading out over my body. I wish I could stop these tears.
But more than that, I wish I could hug him.
I wish I was back home with him so I could tell him how sorry I am for everything that I put him through.
My brother who brought me up. Who’s more like a father figure to me — to all of us — than my brother.
As it is, all I can do is whisper, “I’m not going to waste my life over him, Con. I’ve learned my lesson.”
But maybe that’s not enough to convince him because he speaks in a rough, heartfelt whisper.
“Do you remember what I told you, Callie? Two years ago, I told you that Reed Jackson is an asshole. I told you that he isn’t the guy for you and I still mean that.
I don’t know why he had those charges reduced.
I don’t know if it was his conscience or if he was playing a game and I don’t care.
I don’t fucking care, you hear me? Because if he ever so much as looks at you again, ever, I’m going to take him apart.
I’m going to break every single bone in his body and I’m going to take my time with it.
Do you understand that, Callie? Stay away from him. ”
It’s Thursday and I sneak out a little earlier than I usually do.
It could be slightly riskier, since Wyn hasn’t really gone to sleep yet. But it’s not, because she knows everything now. About the Blue Madonna, my ballet dreams.
Him.
I told her.
After last Saturday at Buttery Blossoms where Reed showed up, I had to. And now I’m wondering why I didn’t talk to her sooner. Because she totally believes in me, in my ballet dream, in Juilliard.
She also thinks that there’s more to him than I think. Because I also told her what Con revealed on the phone call.
How the guy who I thought had me arrested was actually the one who got me off on a reduced charge.
He saved me.
Isn’t that surreal? Isn’t that… what I always thought of him?
Back at Bardstown High, I always thought that he had more to him than what he showed the world.
But I was wrong.
I was so wrong that when I learned the truth, look what I did.
Look what I became.
My brother is right. He might have saved me — for whatever reason — but I know better now. I’m smarter and I’m not listening to Wyn.
I’m staying away from him.
That’s why I left earlier than usual and got on a different bus. It was just as empty but whatever.
That isn’t the point.
The point is that I need to stay away from him. And he has no business telling me what to do.
Hopefully my whole violent display at Buttery Blossoms managed to make it clear that I don’t want anything to do with him.
But apparently not.
Apparently it’s too much to ask, because he’s here.
At my silent, empty ballet studio, Blue Madonna.
I see him in the mirror.
All the way across the room, he is standing behind me, propped up against the white wall. He has his arms folded across his chest and from the looks of it, he’s been here a long time and he’ll be here even longer than that.
Because he appears so… engrossed, so absorbed in the moment.
In me.
In my bowed body.
I’m on my knees, see.
With my fake, feather-light wings slung across my back, I’m on the floor and my body is bent in an arc, and he’s watching that arc, tracking it with his wolf eyes.
My shoulder blades, the slope of my spine, the line of my neck, all the way up to my tight, blonde bun.
And he’s so enamored that he doesn’t even know that I’ve spotted him.
Not until I unfold myself and stand up.
Only then do his eyes snap up and clash with mine. And what a clash it is.
I feel the impact of it right in my chest, right where my wounded heart lives, and I spin around to face him.
“You’re here.” I state the obvious. “Again.”
I knew he’d come.
Even though I was hoping that what happened at the cupcake shop might give him the message, I knew he’d follow me like he used to two years ago.
He’s a predator, isn’t he? A villain, and I’m the lost girl at midnight.
That is exactly why I chose to make my point that he can’t control me like he did before by getting here the way I wanted.
Reed doesn’t answer right away.
He’s watching a drop of sweat sliding down my throat, and when it disappears under the neck of my leotard, only then does he lift his eyes and say, “Because you ran from me the other day. Again.”
His usual statement said in a dangerous tone jacks up my breaths. It makes me hypersensitive. So much so that I feel that drop he was watching slide further down my body, reaching between my breasts.
But I try to focus on what he’s saying.
“I had to. You were being an asshole,” I tell him.
“And you were quite the picture of politeness yourself.”
I fist my sweaty hands at his accusation. “Well, you made me angry.”
“So you dumped your lemonade on me.”
My eyes go to his foot then, his right one that I stomped on. “And stomped on your foot.”
He narrows his eyes slightly as he continues, “You also left me to pay your bill.”
I wince.
I can’t believe I did that.
I’ve never, not in my entire life, run out of a restaurant without paying the bill.
Not until him.
But then that’s nothing new, is it?
I do things for him that I’ve never done. I feel things for him that I’ve never felt before.
He turns me into a different Callie. His Callie.
His Fae.
Swallowing, I dispel these useless thoughts. "Well, you broke my heart so I think I’m allowed that.”
His eyes flash when I throw back his words from the bar. “You are.”
“But even so, I can give you back your money. I have some cash in my bag.”
I do, and I can pay him back.
His folded arms flex as he considers my offer. And they’re so big and sculpted that I can see the hilly contours of them, his biceps, even through his hoodie.
His soft, cozy, warm hoodie.