23. Cal
Chapter twenty-three
Cal
Cal
M y ears rang like I’d been a foot away from a detonated flash bomb. I watched Ruth go, and then I watched another man pull her to his side, but I couldn’t make myself believe it. This had to be a mistake. I started after her, but Ruth refused to look at me. Head down, she hurried down the stairs and away from the event center with purposeful strides that her “boyfriend” matched.
That look of pain and regret on Ruth’s face had been real. There was no denying that she felt horrible about being caught with Vaughn. And Vaughn had seemed so sure, so confident that Ruth had been playing games with me. But even with that evidence placed before me like a numerically sound report, I couldn’t make sense of the results.
I stood in the doorway, hand on the heavy metal door and heart frozen in place, like it had forgotten how to beat at all. Ruth got into a car parked on the road in front of the center, and then they were gone. But still, I couldn’t make myself move.
It wasn’t until a burst of applause from the ballroom behind me punched through my consciousness that I snapped out of it. They were long gone, and there I stood, staring at the spot the sedan had been as the copper summer sunset fell into blue shadows. Blinking hard, I released the door and stepped away. It creaked shut, heavy and aged, and when it slammed closed, I pressed my palm against the cool metal-plated detailing on its surface. The bite of cold against my heated skin was the only thing that felt real.
That, and the name that echoed through the empty foyer. “For outstanding patient service, Dr. Laura Reynolds.”
Applause thundered through the open doors, rolling over my shoulders and slamming my ears with a deafening roar. With confusion clouding my thoughts, I pushed away from the door and headed fast across the ornate flooring and back to the darkened ballroom where my colleague and friend would be making her way through the crowd to accept her award.
That was real.
I wasn’t sure what else was.
When I entered the ballroom, it was just in time to see Laura climb the stairs to the stage and greet the presenters with a gentle smile. She accepted her award, and we all clapped again, but this time, it stuffed my ears like cotton balls. A faint buzzing rattled my thoughts .
She’s gone. With him.
It doesn’t make sense.
Laura shook the last of the Business Bureau members’ hands and then made her way down the other side of the stage. I stood in the doorway of the long room, hidden in the shadows that fell between spotlights and phone screen glares as the attendees filmed the event.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, but…”
I shook my head. It couldn’t be true. There had to be an explanation I was missing. But that vibrating anger and hurt had taken over my logical thoughts, and I couldn’t seem to piece things together in a rational way.
I still had the scent of her wrapped around my senses. The feel of her hand in mine still burned against my palm. And yet, inconceivably, she was gone .
Laura was making her way back down the aisle between tables, her eyes bright even in the dimmed lighting, and a glass trophy between her hands. I forced myself forward.
I didn’t know what was going on with Ruth, but I needed a minute to process everything. I knew that much. Because there was something I was missing, but I couldn’t find it because I was drowning beneath years of neglect and abandonment, swallowing choking mouthfuls of self-doubt and trauma that filled my lungs. I tasted boiled eggs on my tongue, and a surge of abandonment from the past took over my senses.
Left. Forgotten.
That isn’t what this is. Snap out of it, Cal .
I reached our table where everyone was standing, hugging Laura and congratulating her. I joined the throng, pulling in heavy breaths and trying to muster my enthusiasm for Laura. I hugged her after she’d been attacked by Annie and Michael, and then she clung to her husband while he whispered congratulations in her ear. The applause died down and everyone readied themselves for the next award.
It was only when Annie gave me a confused glance that I realized I was still standing. Reeling. Fuck, I needed to pull myself together. Leaning down to Laura, making sure to keep my features neutral, I whispered, “Proud of you. You deserve it.”
Laura gave me a breathless smile, but then it fell. “Cal?”
Annie and Michael heard her tone and turned sharp looks my way. Even in the low lighting, she’d noticed, then. Hell. I put a hand on her arm. “Something came up. I just need to step out. I’m so sorry.”
“How can I help?” she whispered, and the lines between her eyebrows deepened in concern.
I shook my head. “It’s nothing. Just bad timing.” Understatement of your unlucky year, chump. “Don’t wait up for me.” I squeezed her arm and made sure she could see the sincerity that managed to surface from under the weight of my monsoon of confusion. “We’re lucky to have you. Really.”
“Cal,” she hissed, moving to get up. “What’s going on?”
I couldn’t answer her. I didn’t know, myself. I waved to Michael and Annie, and then I backed away, heading straight for the exits. I passed Rook on my way, and he seemed to be coming back from the bathroom, his eyes on his phone screen. He glanced up at me, and like a muted double-take, yanked his attention from his phone to me. I raised a hand in greeting but veered away from him. Of all the people in this room, Rook was the last I felt like dealing with at the moment.
As soon as I stepped out of the crowded space, fast-walking down the tomb-like hallways, I sucked in a desperate breath. Think, Reed. Stop panicking. Whatever your body is telling you this is, it’s wrong. This isn’t middle school. It’s not an empty house and parents who didn’t want you. This is Ruth. Glasses-nudging, lip-biting, smart-talking, quiet-humored Ruth. This is the woman who…
I paused, thinking. Come to think of it, had she said she cared for me? I combed through all our interactions. Ruth was shy, that I knew. She seemed so reluctant to trust, to believe that she was deserving of adoration. And I’d been thoroughly enjoying chipping away at her defenses, breaking her down so I could hold her closer and show her how much she truly deserved.
But what if I’d read her wrong? What if her reticence to admit feelings for me had stemmed from knowing that her heart belonged to another? God, could I really have been that oblivious?
“I feel safe with you .”
No. No way.
Still fast-walking down the halls and heading purposefully for the elevator, I slid my phone from my pocket.
Something was wrong, here. Ruth hadn’t declared her undying love for me. She hadn’t even admitted that she believed I really cared for her. She hadn’t so much as acknowledged that our relationship was real… but I knew. My gut knew. My soul knew it better.
Ruth was my match. If she was gone, then something was wrong.
I pulled up our messages and tapped one out.
Cal:
Whatever is going on, I’m here for you. Trust me.
I didn’t wait to see whether she’d responded or not. I rode the elevator to the parking garage. Then I fast-walked to my car, and without hesitation, pulled up her address in my GPS. They only had a half-hour head-start. There wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to let Ruth bury herself in whatever fucked up mess this was.
Ruth was in trouble. I didn’t know how or why—I couldn’t reasonably conceive an explanation for why she would lie and let him lead her away. But as I drove out of Portland and back to Eugene, I had the time to really turn over our interactions in my mind like tarot cards that told a deeper story. I had time to remember the somber discussions we’d had about the aftermath of her hurt. I recalled the tangible hurt she carried around like a mantle, like a barrier that physically prevented her from trusting others.
There was like an eight percent chance I was delusional, but I’d take those odds. Ruth Coldwell had made me crazy since the moment I’d laid eyes on her, anyway. What else was new?
I checked my messages occasionally over the long drive, but she didn’t respond. My text to her sat unread. Frustrated, I focused on the GPS and the interminably long path it marked between her and me. As my icon inched its way south, I went through the positive self-talk mantras my mother had taught me to re-write the doubt and loathing that had formed at the core of who I had been after being abandoned.
They were stupid, really—childish, and in many ways, the equivalent of yelling “Abracadabra!” and expecting something magical to happen. But like conjuring a spell that had been born of positive outcomes and ruthless optimism, they seemed to help.
I am worthy.
I am enough.
I trust my instincts.
I can give love.
I can receive love.
Five minutes out from Ruth’s house, I added another one.
I can keep her safe.
I parked the car as close to her building as the full lot would allow, and without hesitation, without even turning off my car, I ate the distance with long strides on faded concrete sidewalks. I rounded the outdated apartment building, heading for her front door. I knocked hard and insistently.
Nothing.
Blowing out an irritated breath, I tried again. “Ruth!” I shouted.
Nothing.
I took out my phone and checked our messages, but mine to her sat unread still. I beat my fist against the metal exterior door. “Ruth!” I shouted again. Someone poked their head out of their door in concern. Ignoring them, but knowing I was crossing the bounds of decency, here, I pounded so hard, the door rattled. “Open the door, Ruth!”
Silence.
“I’m waking the neighbors, dammit, and I do not give a fuck. Open. The door.”
Silence.
I lowered my fist, and my heart sank with it. I stared at the shut door, and as I had at the event center, I rested my palm against the cool surface. I expected it to open any moment. I expected Ruth to answer, pushing her glasses up her nose and explaining whatever logical reasoning she had for squeezing the life out of my heart.
But the door stayed shut.