47. CHLOE
47
CHLOE
I’m not sure if I’m alive. The last memory I have is the shower going cold. My frozen body collapsing to the tiled floor and being brought back to life by his hands. The strong, steadfast hands that cradled my body and are now brushing my hair.
The black darkness of the world swallowed me whole.
In the darkness, I heard him. Felt him.
I still hear him, a soft echo that I’m clinging to.
He’s telling me about his day. Then, his childhood.
“I wanted to name Audrey broccoli. It was my favorite food at the time. Weird for a three-year-old, I know.” He laughs, and it’s like an AED resuscitating me. “Audrey is a much better name. Proper name. Did you know it means noble strength? That fits her and you, too. You are one of the strongest people I know, Dais.”
There’s a kiss to the crown of my head.
“My grandparents had a pregnant cow at the time. They let me name the calf broccoli. When he passed my final year of school, they let me name a new one.” Another laugh, another shock. “Do you know what I named her? Apple. She’s beautiful, like you. Not that you are a cow, but she’s pretty for one. You’ll meet her someday. I’m going to take you to their farm. Introduce them to you. My grandma will love your mom’s empanada recipe. They will love you.” Another kiss to my head. “Some days, I think I love you.”
Callum keeps talking and I keep climbing the ladder out of here from the dark pit of my grief. It’s deep on February 1st, but it’s never been this deep. Or this hard to climb out of .
If Cal didn’t show up, I don’t know if I would have.
That wasn’t supposed to happen. I took a shower like I find myself always doing whenever I’m triggered. Overwhelmed. Anxious. The cascading water turned arctic. I didn’t mean to end up in the corner, one shiver away from the fetal position and passing out.
I blacked out.
Isn’t that what the past nine years without Aaron have been like? A permanent blackout.
But lately I’ve been on the cusp of a sunrise.
Cal is daylight—a vibrant, screaming color in the darkness that has consumed my life. Everything he touches turns to pure gold, especially me.
“T-th-thank y-yo-you,” I choke out. My throat hurts, the volume barely above a whisper.
“Chloe,” Cal sighs with relief.
I tried to wash away the pain of the day—the shame of what I did.
After conditioning my hair, it hit me like a riptide. I was being dragged down into the vast, unable to swim against the current of shame and guilt.
That’s when Cal found me.
Callum doesn’t realize what he’s doing. He doesn’t know he is pulling me out of a suffocating darkness. His generosity and kindness are the kiss Sleeping Beauty receives to wake up.
His arms tighten around. “Chloe,” he sighs again. “Are you okay?”
I try to answer, but my throat feels like I’ve swallowed rocks. I tip my head back and forth.
“Let me get you some water.” He slides out from behind me and vanishes.
I sip on the water he brought back from a straw.
He’s standing at the edge of my bed, hyperfixated on me. “Pajamas? What do you need?”
“Sl-sleep,” I barely get out .
Cal moves to the side of the bed, pulling back the covers for me, helping me under them before he turns to leave. I shoot my arm out, grabbing his elbow.
Callum’s upper body pivots in my direction.
Our eyes meet and I can see swarms of emotions swimming in the pools of blue.
I shake my head no. “Don’t leave. He–you can’t.”
Cal swallows and bites his lip. “Okay.”
I drop his elbow, watching as he steps away. Removing his shirt, he folds it and sets it on my dresser.
The bed dips as Callum climbs in.
He wraps an arm around me. The towel slips and his hand meets bare skin. We lay like that momentarily before I twist around to face him.
“Kiss me,” I beg.
“Chloe. . .” he drags out my name with a shake of his head, an exhale.
“Cal, please. Please touch me.” Take away the pain, take away the ache and emptiness that my heart can’t take anymore.
I know the request is unfair to him, to use him for that here. Right now. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t. . . I need this.
“Kiss me,” I beg again. He stops my hand from dragging down his bare chest. “Please, I need this .”
“No.” His shoulders tense. “Chloe, you know that I want to. I want to be with you badly, but not like this. I’m not a toy for you to use. When we kiss, when we touch, when I’m with you, it is because you want to feel everything.”
I try to pull out of his hold because he’s spot on.
“Stop. This doesn’t mean I won’t hold you or stay. I’m here for you, going to get through whatever this is with you, but I’m not going to let you use sex to escape. You’ve told me before that’s what you used to do. I care too much about you to let you continue to do that to yourself.”
I inhale sharply .
I’ve never been turned down before.
A tear drops down my cheek. “Thank you,” I sniffle out. “For saying no,” I clarify when his brows furrow, lips pursed in confusion. “And for being here right now.”
“There’s nowhere else I want to be, Dais.”
“There’s no one else I’d want. . .” I trail off, my eyes growing heavy. Sleep looming over me. “To. . .” Breathe. “Be h-here. . .”