27. Callie Rae
Callie Rae
My belly jumps when we park in the garage. He swings the car door open, and my pulse skyrockets as I tug the passenger-side handle.
I step onto the concrete, swinging the door shut behind me. And as soon as Jesse’s murmuring grows distant, I steer my body away.
Before he can press the rocker to lower the garage door, I scurry to greet my Range Rover in the driveway.
“Callie! Hey!”
My chest heaves when my body twirls. I lay my back against the door, wrapping my palm around the lever.
Only to fasten my grip when Jesse invades my space.
“What the hell are you doing?” His dark eyes are saucers as a pout spreads over his face. “What is this?”
I tip my chin up, shaking my head as tears pierce my eyes. “I’ll scream. I swear, I’ll scream,” I whisper.
His lips part before his head shifts to the window beside me. He leans closer to it, laying a hand on the tinted glass to peek through. I clutch the door handle tighter, white-knuckling it as my heart beats my chest to smithereens.
When Jesse lifts up, he pivots his attention to me. Disbelief is etched in every crevice of his face. “You packed a bag. You planned this.”
I knew Jesse wouldn’t be late to an important investment meeting. He certainly wouldn’t miss it for anything. It’s abrupt, but this is the only opening I have.
The last couple days were spent gathering a week’s worth of clothes and toiletries under Jesse’s nose.
Until I can figure out a permanent plan, this is all I have right now.
It’ll have to do.
I fight a swallow through the stone wedged in my throat. “I’ll be back for the rest of my things,” I croak out, lifting my hands to reach behind my neck. “Here—”
Jesse’s arms cage me in an instant. I gasp, my back pressing into the side of my Rover.
“No, I think you should keep it,” he snarls, fury fueling his tone.
I wag my head, the air in my lungs disintegrating. “I don’t wa—”
“This is really fucked up, you know that?” His brows dip, his murky gaze skating back and forth between my eyes with contempt.
“Keep everything so you can realize what a huge fucking mistake this is. You’re really stupid, Callie.
” His lips twitch into a spiteful smirk.
“I know you’ll come back. You don’t have any friends willing to entertain you for that long. ”
“Please. I just need to leave,” I breathe. “I can’t be with you after everything that’s happened.”
He stealthily raises himself off the door, straightening as he says, “I guess my instinct was right. You really are just a cold-hearted bitch, huh?”
He inhales as his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. Then he’s stabbing a long finger at me. “If you keep acting like a little bitch and disrespecting me, you’re not gonna hang around your little friend anymore.”
“You little bitch, get up!” Daddy hollers from his standing position.
My vision grows hazy as I keep my head turned from him. My whole face stings, bitten with the largest wounds Daddy’s ever painted me with.
My eyes snap shut as the heels of my palms lay on top of them. “No,” I mutter, barely audible. “No.” Nausea swirls in my stomach, elevating to my chest when I hear Jesse’s snicker.
“Yeah, this isn’t over,” he warns. “Good luck groveling when you crawl your way back to me.”
I’m wagging my head, mentally shooing him away until he strolls off. His Oxfords drift into the distance, and my breathing evens in sync.
I drop my hands, turning to open the driver’s-side door. My body stumbles inside from the frenzy, my free fingers swiping a lone tear from my cheek.
Daddy’s and Jesse’s words bang against my ears. They pound on them until pieces of my heart fall onto the floor of the car.
Their voices intertwine. I can’t decipher who is who in my mind.
I push the engine on, quickly shifting the Rover in reverse. My arms and hands tremble above the steering wheel, but I manage to maneuver the vehicle onto the street.
I press my foot further into the pedal, swiping another salty droplet as the car gains speed.
And I race away.
Not from Jesse, but from myself.
The woman who failed that little girl by agreeing to marry someone just like Daddy.
Just like Daddy.
“Uggghhh!”
I grunt out the hysteria, my palms slamming the steering wheel with brute force. My eyes gloss over in fright, but they stare down the dusky streets.
It turns out, the only person I’m scared of is me. And the person I’ve become.
I set out to escape Willowhart but somehow managed to replicate a life just like it here.
Somewhere through the clouds, I lost my path.
Because I was never meant to fly alone.
* * *
After cleaning my tears and face, I knock on Brant’s front door.
My head dips to the wood planks before it pops toward the frosted glass of the porch light. I linger on the golden yellow hue for a breath. Attempting to stabilize my breathing, my palms lay on my stomach.
The hinges of the door sing, and I jerk my head to land on Brant’s eyes. His hazel stare sparkles against the entryway light, and my nerves instantly untangle.
“Hi,” I say.
The top two buttons of his dress shirt are undone. That black tie still unfastened and hung around his neck.
He’s lethally handsome. All cleaned up, but in this sort of rugged way that reminds me it’s him.
Dove.
But he’s so big.
His lean muscles are carved with these thick veins that I want to sink my teeth into. His arms have more hair, just like his face does. His tight chest is sprinkled with a light layer of it too.
I wonder where the boy I fell in love with is.
Is he really underneath all of this?
“Can I come in?” I finally ask.
His jaw ticks with amusement. “You shouldn’t insult me so much.”
My lips purse when he steps aside to grant me room. I enter the house before he closes the door, only to dart my attention to another voice.
“Don’t worry, I’m leaving.”
Sean’s throwing a hoodie over his t-shirt as he walks toward us. He swipes a hand through his shaggy hair, and then he’s extending it to me. “Very nice to see you again, Callie Rae. Also, Happy Birthday.”
I grin as I accept his hug. “Same. Thank you so much.”
We peel away, his smile flashing across his smooth jaw. Then Sean looks over to Brant.
“Brant.”
“I know. I owe you,” Brant answers.
Sean points as he grabs for the handle of the front door. “That you do. I’ll see you later.”
After Sean exits the house, Brant’s latching the lock in place. “I didn’t want you to feel awkward if he was here.” He lifts off the door to face me, casually motioning a hand. “Figured we had some things to catch up on, you know? Especially today.”
I nod, a heat sweeping through me. Then my eyes examine him more.
His necklace is entirely exposed, drawing attention to his olive skin. Skin that’s tight and refined, just like the shape of his stubbled jaw and tapered eyes.
“I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience. This is his home. I should be the one to bend,” I reply.
The corner of his lips kicks up. He turns to walk through the slim hallway, and his hand surfs through his hair. I’m a step behind him when he says, “I do solids for him, don’t worry. It’s been an unspoken agreement between us since college.”
We enter the kitchen, the recessed lights casting an even, white glow. Brant’s hands disappear into his pockets, and he nestles himself in the crook of the L-shaped counter.
My legs slow, my eyes lingering on the large, white box parked on the butcher block surface. The blush ribbon hugs the length and width of the gift, knotting into a bow at the center of the lid.
“What is this?” I ask, standing at the end of the counter.
His fingers nudge the box closer to me. “I told you I had something to give you. However, this is only part of it.”
I pop my gaze to his, shaking my head. “This is unnecessary.”
“I respectfully disagree,” he counters, sliding his palm back into his pocket.
“But if you insist on feeling guilty, the other gift is small. So small that you’re going to feel really silly for fighting me on it right now.
You may as well just save yourself from the humiliation and all the jokes I’m going to toss your way after. ”
My teeth roll over my bottom lip. I glide my crossbody off my shoulder, stationing it on the counter.
Brant jerks his chin. “Go ahead. Open it,” he says.
I swallow thickly as my fingers land on the satin ribbon. Tints of the light reflect across the pink material, and I slide the silk off the rectangular box with ease.
Once the ribbon is discarded, I remove the lid. My hands rummage through the blush tissue paper, only for my breath to be kidnapped in the next second.
It’s a pair of cowboy boots.
Pink ones.
My gaze is still trained ahead, popping over the dusty path between the hill we’re on and the barn. I absently shake my head. My eyes roam the rustic beams and worn, wooden walls on the inside. “I want a smile as big as theirs one day,” I declare. “And a pair of cowboy boots.”
Cowboy hats bob in the distance. Leather boots tap the polished wood. Every pastel color is represented within the sea of people, but their feelings are a single shade.
Happiness.
Brant’s chuckle reaches my ear. “I bet you’d get pink ones.”
“With rhinestones,” I add, stretching a tiny smile.