25. Callie Rae
Callie Rae
After dinner, I’m rinsing our plates under the lukewarm water. My brain twists wildly, images of Brant fusing with the speech I’ve rehearsed over the past few days.
It’s a shame Brant and I didn’t get to talk much while he was here earlier. And when he disappeared through the front door, he took my heart with him.
Just like he always does.
Damn you, Dove.
My eyes stroll along the thick grass behind the window. My hand swipes the sponge over the porcelain, and the hollow hole in my chest cuts off all feelings.
I wonder what the hell it is I’m doing.
In the days I’ve spent with Brant, he’s robbed all my emotions. He’s nestled them in his arms for good. The only way to get them back is to chase after him.
As long as I don’t have Brant, my heart will always be a runaway. Never steady. Never settled. It’ll always want more.
When I lean forward, water from the edge of the granite leaks into my t-shirt. My head slopes down as I back my waist off, and I’m muttering a curse.
I finally turn the faucet off, snatching the dishtowel that’s draped over my shoulder. After I dab the soaked section of my top, I toss the cloth on the counter.
I bend to wedge the rinsed plates in the open dishwasher beside me. I drop a pod in to start the machine, and Jesse’s shoes tap along the wood floor.
Swallowing thickly, I straighten and click the appliance door shut. “Jesse, can we talk?” I ask.
I’m turning around just as he travels to the island. He retrieves the thumb drive of the addition drawings when he replies, “What’s up?”
I lick my lips, one hand palming the counter edge. My throat constricts, and for a moment, I think I might forfeit.
But when I stare at the piece of Brant between Jesse’s fingers, my courage sprints out. “I’ve been feeling unsure lately.”
He pinches his brows, his head jerking toward me. “About what?”
“A lot of things,” I breathe, nodding through my rattled nerves. “Mainly the future.”
His dark eyes narrow, concern woven into his pupils. Then he’s resting the flash drive back on the counter. “Callie, what’s going on?”
I battle a gulp when he digs one hand in his slacks pocket. He treads closer to me, and my fingers curl tightly around the granite.
He rests one hand beside mine on the counter, his gaze jumping to my mild pout. A useless breath rolls from me, and then he finds my numb stare.
I’m stalling all the words I’ve been practicing since Brant and I started to find our way back to each other.
“Sometimes, I think maybe I jumped into an engagement too quickly,” I croak. “I’ve been feeling, I don’t know … nervous.”
“A lot of people feel nervous when they take this big of a step in their life,” he rebuttals.
I barely inhale when he cradles my chin between his thumb and forefinger. My stomach jumbles, knowing I’m stalling. Knowing I’m going to quickly exhaust ways of dancing around this.
“Yeah,” I finally whisper. His touch is overwhelming given the context, and I steer my body away to rid myself of it. I stare past the glass of the window above the sink, the silence blaring as my eyes cloud over. “I just … I’ve been thinking that maybe we should take a breather.”
“From what?”
His tone is clipped. Short and agitated. Like a jagged saw that cuts into my gut.
“From this. The engagement. I…” I pop a shoulder as I shake my head.
I can’t do it.
I can’t commit entirely.
“I-I don’t know,” I add uselessly.
In my periphery, his lower back is leaning against the counter. His arms cross just as I return my attention to him, but he angles his chin toward the ceiling. “Where is this coming from?” he asks.
I eject a breath, facing his side now. My hands meet at the waistline of my jeans, fingers tugging one another to crank out the next sentence. “I just think that we should consider pausing the engagement,” I say. “Until I have a clearer mind.”
There’s no ‘until’.
I already have a clear mind.
His lips tuck in, his eyes still directed upward as he bobs his head. “Okay,” he responds. “By pausing the engagement, you mean breaking up? Am I getting that right?”
My instinct is to reject his assumption. I’m about to shake my head, but I whip it to the window again. My eyes trap a tiny portion of my garden in the back corner, and it’s like a hit of adrenaline.
“Yes,” I offer weakly.
“I can’t hear you,” he challenges, rotating his body toward mine. “What was that?”
His assertive tone drives me to slowly face him. My throat rolls through the windstorm rumbling in my chest, and his gaze hoods.
There’s a rigidness in his jaw. It ticks like a time bomb, and I cower immediately. “I-I don’t know.”
He shakes his head, licking his lips. “No, that’s not what you said,” he counters. Then he’s jerking his chin at me. “Repeat it. I want to make sure I heard you correctly.”
Tears stab the pockets of my eyes. Everything inside of me shouts to dart from this kitchen. Maybe even this house.
His eyes are sheathed with a thirst. Like they’re hungry for revenge.
He feels wronged.
The malice weaved through his pupils waves at me like a red flag. And I know that if I turn my back on them, my punishment will be much worse than whatever he has in store for me.
I’ve seen eyes like this before. Eyes I know all too well.
Daddy’s.
Only, I forgot one small detail. A side effect of being estranged from your former life for ten years, I suppose.
Never make them wait.
The back of Jesse’s hand strikes the side of my face. My body spins until I’m landing with my palms over the sink frame, and a blunt throb crawls along my cheek.
I shoot my hand up to apply pressure to the cruel bite. My eyelids fall through a daze, and my gaze blurs through the shock.
Ragged breaths strain from my lungs in a stunted rhythm. “You hit me,” I whisper.
“I told you never to embarrass me, Callie,” Jesse grinds out.
He leans over my side with one palm still splayed on the granite. The brush of his dress shirt is like a lick of venom against my bare arm.
“I give you everything under the fucking sun, and this is how you choose to show your appreciation?”
I tremble through a shaky sigh, turning away from him. “Don’t ever touch me,” I whisper. I’m spinning around in the next second, seething the same words through my teeth. “Don’t ever touch me.”
He buries his hands into his slacks pockets, his eyes locked on mine as he steps forward. My heart crumbles, my arms fearfully crossing over my torso when I retreat.
“You’re going to honor me the way a husband deserves to be respected. You understand me?” he demands.
My chin is tilted toward him as he invades my space. The beats of my heart evaporate while pins and needles choke my soul. Numbing it to its core. Until the last bit of color Jesse painted on my life fades to black.
And I’m reunited with someone in that dark space.
That broken girl from the trailer park.
She’s sad and angry. Bitter. Scared and hopeless.
She’s stuck.
I always thought when I was older, I would take her hand and lead her into the light that glistens on the other side. But instead, I’m taking a seat right beside her and suffering a familiar pain.
It’s true.
I failed her.
I prioritized financial security, all the while playing with the same demons I once did. I was allured by how everything appeared so different. Everything was so estranged from those hills.
I wanted instant gratification. A prompt solution I was always so desperate for. But I failed to peel back all the layers.
Jesse is lipstick drawn on a pig.
A refined costume thrown over Daddy.
My throat bobs when I nod. I immediately chuck my head away from his stare, and in the next breath, Jesse’s exiting the kitchen.
Leaving me with a tear-soaked face and shattered spirit.
A spirit that doesn’t know what it was trying to fight for in the first place.