34. Yani
CHAPTER 34
Yani
CALUM
The sound of the door closing follows me as I jog down the front stairs of Cathie’s house. My heart pumps fast. There are not enough adjectives to describe how infuriating that woman is.
She is not the only victim in these. No, victim is the wrong word. She became a perpetrator the moment she chose to keep Mace away from me. If she wants to be on the opposite side even after that evil, very well then, I’ll be the villain. But God knows a court mess is the last thing I want. I spent all those months without her, and now I’m here, I can’t catch a break.
What’s her excuse? If she was so pissed, why didn’t she show up?
Because she was scared and heartbroken.
Because of that stupid email.
Of course, it’s the email. She already believed I would leave her and seeing it solidified the fear. Still, it’s no excuse. Her trust in me and love for Mace should have superseded the fear.
It’s dark outside. The streetlights are my navigation as I take a few more steps to the fence and stop. The rental car is parked beside it. Spending the night with her isn’t a bad idea. In fact, I was hoping she would ask, but she had to ruin it by talking about death and mugging.
A light drizzle touches my hair. I should move, but my feet are stuck. Our conversation plays in my head. She wishes me dead. If she had a way, she would swap my life for Amelia’s. She hates me so much she wants me dead, even at the risk of our son growing without his father.
The realisation crashes into me. I didn’t react in the house, but the full impact sweeps in now. Her words take form, tightening around my neck like a cord. I need a smoke. But I don’t have one. Bending, I grab my knees and my breath rushes out of my lungs. She didn’t mean it. She couldn’t have. Cathie can’t hurt anyone. Maybe the old Cathie was kind, but this one is bitter.
Mace’s face appears behind my closed eyes. My chest expands, and air fills my lungs. I rake my fingers through my hair. I don’t want to leave, but I can’t keep up with this. Damning the consequences, I retrace my steps to her door. Mace needs me, even if she doesn’t. I knock twice. No reply in both cases. I push the door open. The living room is empty. She went to sleep without locking the door? Sounds like she’s the one who wants to get mugged tonight.
“You came.”
Oh. She’s here. But on the floor with her arms banded around her knees like she’s trying to hide away from the world. I kick off my shoes and join her on the floor. She doesn’t look up.
Crossing my legs, I spread my fingers on my knees. “I couldn’t leave, Catherine,” I reply.
“Thanks for coming back.”
Her head lowers to her knee, and my heart gives out. I hurt for her. It must be hard for her to live in this house she used to share with her best friend. I thought my presence would make things better, but I can’t say for sure if it has. All we have done is fight and make Mace cry.
“No one has the monopoly of hurt, Cathie. You hurt me, I hurt you,” I whisper. We hurt each other. Her head stays down, but I don’t stop. “It’s an unending cycle. Is that what you want?”
She sighs. “You really lost your memory?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t lie about that.”
Cathie’s face gives nothing away. I want to know what she’s thinking. If she believes me. If she wants me here because she cares. If there’s a shot at us getting back together. I miss her.
“Have you had anything to eat?” she asks.
“Yeah. I wasn’t sure you would want me to eat with you, so I ate before coming. Thank you for asking,” I mutter. She laughs. Though the sound is short, I treasure it. I think it’s her first laugh of today, maybe the week. She swipes a hand over her dry cheeks. “I’m sorry, Cathie.”
Her eyes open wide. Fear, uncertainty, and resignation sit in them. “For what?”
“The email. I didn’t send it, but I still owe you an apology for it,” I say. My eyes drop to her hands. I would hold her in a different scenario, maybe now, but I don’t want to push my luck. “And I don’t hold your reaction against you. I can never understand what it felt like to be young and pregnant for a man who didn’t want me. I would never have left you, Catherine.”
“Yeah.” Her hand darts out to wipe the tears on her cheeks. She looks tired, but I know the exhaustion is deep-rooted. “At least you’re here now after all my attempts to kick you out,” she says with a laugh that dies fast. I want her to be happy, so happy a room lights up each time she walks in. “You can spend the night in Mace’s room. He always sleeps in mine.”
“Sounds good.” I stand first and offer her my hand. She stares at it without taking it. Too many walls around her heart. I will smash them. “It won’t bite, Cathie. Come on, Superstar.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Sorry,” I mutter. She accepts my hands, and I pull her up. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
She blushes. “Thanks.”
God, we are so awkward around each other. I stop her from carrying Mace. At this stage, I need her to regain her strength, and we can discuss the possibility of a therapist. She leads the way upstairs. Our footsteps echo throughout the house. We walk past her room to the next door. She opens it and motions for me to go in first. I inspect her face. What if she locks me inside there? Can she do that? I can’t tell with this newer version of Cathie. She’s different.
One step inside, and the worry flees. There’s a portrait of Mace on the bedside console table. My feet direct me to it. I pick it up, and my fingers trace the exterior of the frame. My son is smiling in the picture. His smile pulls at the corners of my lips. Except for this frame and a bed, the room lacks decorations. Does Mace sleep here? I don’t like how empty it is. Cathie shuffles out of sight and returns later. Leaning against a door I assume leads to the bathroom, she runs a hand through her hair. Will I ever get an explanation about it? I liked her long hair.
“You can freshen up in here. I’ll get you a towel and a toothbrush,” she says, already charging towards the entrance like she can’t get out of here fast enough.
“Cathie.”
She stops in front of the door, and her forehead presses to the wooden surface. I bridge the gap. My chest brushes her back, and her grip on the knob tightens. I’m not sure what I’m doing. But my fingers caress her arm, spinning her in my embrace. She looks up at me with those sad blue eyes, and I’m enchanted. My brain blanks.
“Are you still mad at me?” I whisper.
Cathie gulps audibly, and my head lowers. What will she do if I kiss her? I wet my lip, and she lets out a shaky breath. Her eyes zero in on my lips, and I lean in closer than I should.
“What was your question?” she breathes.
What? I asked a question? Yeah, what was the question, Cal?
Her tongue swipes over her upper lip. “Forget I asked anything.”
“Okay,” she mutters.
Her hands flatten on my chest like it will stop anything from happening. Wait, is this a sign she doesn’t want us to get intimate? I take a small step back, and she visibly relaxes. So, she doesn’t want to kiss me.
“Are you seeing someone?”
“I should say none of your business, but the answer is no. I’m not seeing anyone, Calum.”
“Cal,” I correct. Her brows wiggle in anger or amusement, I don’t know. Some of the tension fizzles out. She’s awaiting an explanation for my question, so I say the first thing that comes to mind. “Good to know you’re single. I wouldn’t want my son growing under the wrong influence.”
Wrong choice of words. Fuck. Her face shuts down, and she pushes away from me to stand straighter. My apology dies in my throat. I don’t know how to act around her.
“I’ve been doing a good job without you, Mr Dissick. I know how to handle my business.”
This one is on me.
“Please stop.” I slide my hands into my back pockets and rock on my heels. “Stop calling me Mr Dissick.”
“But it’s your name, isn’t it?”
The fight has left her body, but she remains guarded. I maintain the distance between us.
“Cal will do just fine.”
“Calum,” she says.
“Cal,” I mutter with a smile.
“Calum it is. If that will be all, Calum …” The emphasis on my name is so strong I almost laugh. “I’ll be…”
Without completing the statement, she rushes out of the room and shuts the door after her. I poke my head out the door and grin at the empty corridor. I have so much work to do. And it requires patience. Lots of it.
Minutes roll by without a towel, toothbrush, or Cathie. I go in search of her, knocking twice before opening her door. My steps are quiet to avoid rousing Mace. He’s asleep on his belly with his cheek pressed to the bed. I pull the cover up to his chest, and my heart beats faster.
I have a son. It’s taking a while for that to sink in.
Mace is mine, and from our little interaction, he likes me. I’ll have to convince Cathie she’s mine, too. We belong to each other. I look up at the sound of running water. The door is closed. Superstar is in there, naked. Forcing those naughty thoughts out of my mind, I scan her room. There are more pictures of Mace. For those with Cathie, she still has her long hair.
The shelf by the wall grabs my attention. I let my feet guide me to it. There’s a pile of baby wipes in the middle. In the last row is a stack of posters under a branded box. My finger trails the wood, leaving a fine line in the dust-coated surface. It hasn’t been touched in a while, that much I know. Sitting on the floor, I extract the posters and bubble gum rolls out of the box.
Confusion makes way for clarity when I unfold the posters. The first is a picture of us. Sam, Lucas, and I at our reunion. Inside each poster is a note. Each note has a date. It doesn’t take long to figure out what the dates represent. The dates of Mending Hearts shows, starting from when I reconciled with the band. But she stopped last year. February. What happened then?
Yani. The first pictures of me and Yani kissing were released in February.
Cathie must have seen those pictures. If the email didn’t solidify her hurt, the pictures did. I rub a finger over my brow and redirect my attention to the box. A different fear engulfs me as I count up to fifteen bubble gums and stop. These were her good luck charms. For my first physical meeting with Scott, Cathie gave me a bubble gum because she believed it was a good luck charm. Her mum would give her one before she sang. And now, she kept one each time we performed.
The pieces of the puzzle fit into place, and a groan tunnels out of my lips. I broke her heart, but she was still hoping until Yani. There has to be over twenty gums here. We didn’t have up to twenty shows within that period. Or was it for Sam, Lucas, and me? She was wishing us luck?
The running water shuts off, and I shove the items back to the shelf. My eyes dart to the door, waiting for it to open. It doesn’t. I inch backwards until the back of my legs hit the bed. In my haste to steady myself, I clutch the nearest object on the bed, eyes closing as my knees hit the floor. Pain shoots up my thighs. I unclench my fists, and a lacy material drops to the floor.
Blood rushes below my waist as I take in the underwear at my knees. I grab her panties and sniff it. The smell of her pussy is still fresh, and the milky crust on the lower part of the lace hardens my cock. The image of her naked body under the shower flows into my head.
We need to talk. Then we need to fuck.
I shove the panties into my pocket when the door opens. Cathie steps out and halts.
“Calum?”
“Cathie.” I need to say more. But what are words? I stand. “I was hoping to get a towel or something to clean up. There’s none in the bathroom. No toothbrush. You promised to get them.”
“Oh, sorry.” Her eyes lower to the spot her underwear should be, and mine drops to her chest. The white towel might provide some decency, but my brain is filling in the blank. My dick does a little jerk. I put my hands in my pockets to hide the evidence of my erection. She looks away from the bed to me but doesn’t ask what I suspect she wants to. “Yeah. I’ll go get that.”
Her steps are uncertain. She ransacks her wardrobe and sighs. “You wanted a towel?”
“Yes,” I reply. Preferably the one she has on.
Words gallop through my mind, but I can’t make a coherent statement. The thread of sanity I’m clinging to burns when she squats. She’s wearing only a towel—a short towel, and when she bends, it hitches up, exposing the lower part of her arse. Did they grow softer? I know they are bigger. That much is obvious, even her boobs. I need to get out of here before I come in my briefs.
“If you can show me where to get them, I’ll do it myself,” I say. She straightens up. Even with her back to me, my mind replays the image of her butt. Was it intentional? The short towel? No, she didn’t know I was coming. “I don’t want to bother you.”
“Yeah. I’ll just put on my clothes,” she says while pulling a dress over her head. Knowing she’s naked underneath does more harm than good. My dick throbs painfully, and when she whips to face me, I almost beg her to touch me. “Let’s go. We should find some downstairs.”
Nodding, I lead the way. I need to be out of here. We walk down the stairs in silence. It’s like being in Pete’s house, but now we are strangers. I sneak a glance at her a few times, but her gaze remains straight ahead. In the laundry room, she pulls out a clean towel from a pile of folded ones and offers me a toothbrush she removes from God knows where. I don’t protest.
“Goodnight, Calum,” Cathie says without looking at me. My stomach growls. Her eyes flutter up to my face. “You’re hungry.”
I’m not sure if the truth is the right answer, so I keep mute. I ate before coming to the house, but it seems like a while ago. I should have cooked for two instead of one. She walks out of the laundry room and I follow, hugging the towel to my chest. I find her in the kitchen, searching through her fridge while mumbling under her breath.
“Cathie, it’s fine,” I say to her. I can deal with hunger for tonight. She cuts me a sharp look. Like one of those I sent her during our squabble. “Really. I’m fine. I’ll be fine for one night.”
“I will not let you starve on my watch.”
My lips remain in a frown, but my heart rejoices. She cares. She still cares about me. I try to help, but she waves off my offer and whips up a sandwich for two. She sets that and a jug of juice on the counter.
“Thanks for buying them,” Cathie murmurs, her gaze straying to the bread, mayonnaise, and eggs still out in the open.
Stocking the house was the least I could do for them. The kitchen was almost empty.
“Thanks for the food,” I tell her. She nods. Her eyes close as she leans back on the fridge. She’s exhausted, and I want to make her feel better. “Do you need help with anything?”
“It’s fine, thank you.”
“I’m happy to help, Catherine.”
“Cathie,” she says. “And I’m fine.”
Our blues meet. She’s working so hard to keep me out. I want my Cathie. The annoying, impulsive Cathie who worked all my buttons, kissed my temples and liked to cuddle.
“Are you sure you are not hungry? It has been a while since you ate.” She glares at me, and I take it as my cue to shut up. But I can’t. “I don’t know if I said it, but I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Just shut up, Calum.”
Okay. She needs silence, so I should shut up. My focus is on the tiled countertop as I munch the late dinner. The ceiling lights reflect on it. I finish the first sandwich and raise the second.
“You should eat something.”
Her eyes widen a fraction, and she swipes a finger under her nose. Stalking towards me with a scowl, she snatches the sandwich from me. I pour her a glass of juice, quiet as she devours the meal. We sit in silence after she finishes. I sit beside her, a little distance between us.
“Cathie,” I whisper.
“Shut. Up,” she whispers in return.
She won’t make this easy on me. I clear the table and do the dishes. I would have cleaned up the entire house if it would earn me a bit of her forgiveness, but the whole place is sparkling.
All done, I settle down beside her. A sniff breaks the quiet. At first I want to comment or tease her, but a tear drops to the counter. She’s crying so silently I almost didn’t hear it. I’m not sure what to do. I hug her from behind. She tries to fight me, but I tighten my hold on her.
“Go away,” she cries. I went away once. I’m not going anywhere this time. “Leave. Go.”
By now, I know she doesn’t mean it. She wants me here, even if her actions and words say otherwise. I lift her into my arms. Her punches are weak, and they feel more like a massage. Sitting back in my chair, I hum the tune of the song that brought us together. Parts of the song no longer apply to me like they did two years ago, but right now, I’m deeply overwhelmed.
Her eyes lift to mine. Tears cling to her lower lashes, and my heart breaks again. I am not giving up on us, no matter how long it takes. I’ll fix us one piece at a time until we are both whole again.
“I want to hate you,” she says. “I hate you.”
But her arms tighten around my waist. I don’t stop singing. When her eyes shut and her breathing falls into a rhythm, I press a kiss to her hair. “I love you, my superstar.”
Cathie doesn’t stir on the way to her room. I set her down on her bed and pull the cover over her. She moans but continues sleeping, and I drag a finger across her ear. I want to claim her lips, but we are not there yet. Stopping at the door, I grin at the best two people in the world.
My son. My superstar. Mum made me miss out on this, and in the process, she missed out on it as well. She doesn’t know she has a grandson. I’m not sure I want to be the one to tell her.
I switch off the light and rush downstairs to get the towel and toothbrush. Back in my room, I shed my clothes, and her panties fall out of my pocket. I pick it up for a sniff. The heady scent intoxicates me. I don’t remember dropping to the bed, but the hand holding the lace wraps around my cock. I picture her arse, the faint stretch marks that weren’t present when we were still together. Her body has changed in many ways. I want to relearn it so I can worship her.
A groan shoots out of my lips, and I prop my head on the headboard. The image of her arse replays in my head, followed by her tongue running over her lip. I pump faster, pretending it’s Cathie who has her eager hand wrapped around my dick until I come all over her panties.
Waves of bliss crash over me. My breath rushes out, and my lips turn down at the cum that escaped to the bedsheet. I tug it off and head to the bathroom for a bath. This will be a long night.