42. Callie Rae
Callie Rae
After work, I came straight here knowing Jesse would be around this evening. That was our agreed-upon time. As much as I wanted to dive into packing boxes when I came home from work, I threw on jeans and a t-shirt to sit under the warm sun.
My legs curl at my side, chin sloping toward the sky. My skin absorbs the cozy beams, the pads of my fingers grazing the lush needles of the lawn. Then I’m dipping my attention to my garden.
I study the canvas of color—vivid yellows, pinks, and purples woven together. The silk petals of the flowers dance with the whispering wind. A sweet fragrance immediately greets the air around me.
My eyes land on the polished stone of the two perched doves. I linger on their delicately carved features, admiring the grace that radiates from their expressions.
A montage of my former life scrolls in front of me, and my eyelids fall.
All I see are smiles and big hearts.
Those are the first snapshots that flash in my mind.
Our life was far from perfect over there, but it was filled with perfect moments. And when you’re able to see those streaks of color on the dark page, you realize just how vibrant that color truly is. Those moments made life over there worth it.
We made those moments.
We did that.
I always liked looking at the stars when I was younger. It seemed to be one of the few activities over there where I could look up instead of down. It was my way of wrapping my faith around something when it felt hopeless to anchor it. I’d even wish upon a star or two every now and then.
Wishes were all we had in Willowhart, and they’d always be the same.
I asked for a cozier home. A better life than the one I was forced into. And no matter how much I believed my wishes were pointless, I made them anyway.
That’s the thing about having nothing. You’re willing to try anything because you know you have nothing to lose or let go of. There’s no great sacrifice that has to be made.
Or so I thought.
I had a best friend. An eternal partner. A soulmate. A lover.
The catch is, these people all lived within the same soul.
Dove.
He fulfills every facet of love. I don’t get one or the other with Brant. I get everything.
Everything I ever wanted.
This side may foster my dreams, but the other side created them. That’s the thing about having a lot as opposed to nothing—you start to dream little dreams instead of big ones.
I miss dreaming big.
There was always something to look forward to, and in the past ten years, I’ve found myself at the peak. A threshold because I didn’t bring enough passion with me from those hills.
I left the most important piece behind.
My other half.
“I knew you’d want to stay.”
Jesse’s buoyant tone brushes against my back. My hand reflexively covers the two velvet boxes at my side, my throat rolling as I peek over my shoulder.
I connect my eyes with Jesse’s usual dress shirt and slacks. The only response I offer is a tiny smile, and then I cradle the jewelry boxes to stand.
Jesse’s hands tuck into his pants pockets. “God, I’ve missed you,” he sighs, relief draining from him. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’ve changed your mind.”
A victorious grin graces his face. His gelled hair and eyes glint under the afternoon sun. My smile remains subdued, stretching a centimeter as my eyes scan his face.
“Jesse, I haven’t changed my mind.” I allow the statement to flow for a beat, and his face falls. Just as I lift the two velvet boxes between us. “I meant what I said,” I add. “It’s over.”
I purse my lips, limbs trembling as I train my attention on the jewelry boxes. One harbors the tennis necklace. The other contains the engagement ring.
“Here,” I offer softly.
Jesse’s motionless, his body and mouth absent of any movement. The light breeze whisks between us, and my throat bobs before I elevate my eyes to his.
“Callie, we’ve gone over this,” he murmurs. “I apologized.”
His stare and voice are infused with regret. There’s a gloom residing in him that I’ve never witnessed in our time together. The onyx shade of his eyes has lightened to chocolate, and I can feel a strand of sincerity in his words.
“It was one time. It won’t ever happen again,” he whispers, shaking his head. “Ever.”
My gaze shimmers with tears as it skates back and forth between his eyes. That honesty laces through his voice again, and I want to believe him.
Not so I can agree to re-enter this relationship.
But to know that people can change.
That if Daddy were to have lived longer, he could’ve loved me the way a father was supposed to love his daughter.
“Jesse, there’s a whole life I lived before you,” I confess softly.
My eyes burn with an onslaught of fresh tears.
“I told you I didn’t grow up wealthy, but I never told you I grew up poor. Not just financially,” I explain. “I was poor in love.”
My face screws tight, my vision hazing under the sunlight. I swear I see Jesse’s face morph into Daddy’s, and I almost cower.
“Hey!”
My body flinches.
Daddy’s arm punches the air; a couple of splashes of Jack now staining the charcoal carpet. “You’re gonna stop talking back to me, ya hear?! Now show me some goddamn respect and unpack those groceries I bought for your ass!”
I scrunch my eyes closed for a single breath, feeling my confidence slip through my fingers. My pulse accelerates, my body stiff as it braces for the strike of his hand.
Whose hand…I’m not sure.
It could be Daddy’s. It could be Jesse’s.
“H-he hurt me,” I whisper. My lips puff a breath out, my eyes flicking to my garden right after. I spot the stone doves, and my composure strengthens when I return my eyes to Daddy’s. “I was just an innocent kid.”
“Is this how that boy’s been touching you?”
I shake my head maniacally, my fingernails instantly clawing at the back of his hand. “N-no, we were just studying, I promise. Please stop. Pleeaasse.”
“Who?”
His eyes narrow as he listens intently. That dark gaze catapults me back to that trailer living room with Daddy, and my heart chokes through the next words.
“I owe that little girl my strength. The protection she deserved back then when she couldn’t defend herself.”
Tears dampen my cheeks. “Daddy, stop! I’m not doin’ anything! Daddy, stop it!” I sob, a mallet clobbering my lungs.
My mind spins in a deafening cyclone. I almost don’t register Daddy’s fingers flying inside my underwear.
I inhale, my chest roughly pumping through the breath. Emotion threatens to spill from my eyes, but I lock it as I shake my head. Adrenaline seeps into me, igniting this unknown superpower.
“I won’t do that to her. I won’t. I refuse,” I grit out. “Never again. He’s never going to hurt me again. You…”
I suck a sharp breath in when my eyes catch the sliding glass doors. Daddy’s standing there, his elbow perched on the frame in his tank top and weathered jeans.
I shriek when his fingers dig into my hair. He’s yanking me off the floor, grunting as he shoves me into the wall. “Are you kidding me, girl?!”
My back smacks into the paneling, a grimace bursting across my face as I absorb the blow. I shoot my hands up, nails grinding at his wrists for him to release me. “Stop it!” I cry.
“Fuck!” Daddy shouts.
My lip quivers when I catch his sadistic smirk. I hear the rumble of his mocking laugh, and those onyx eyes challenge me. They dare me to test him. To provoke him just so he can unleash the inevitable punishment.
And that’s when I see it.
A hummingbird lands on his shoulder, the metallic feathers fluttering. Daddy’s head turns, brows dipped as he stares down the tiny creature. His sardonic demeanor is thrown, and he tries to nudge it off.
But the bird’s feet remain glued. It’s there to stay.
There to win.
Daddy’s attention drags to me, his expression unfamiliar. Foreign. There’s a single glint in his eyes that softens, and that manipulative smirk flatlines just enough.
Just enough to show me the father he could’ve been. The parent he should’ve been. And that’s when I realize…
Love will always win.
I gulp, my glassy eyes staring into Daddy’s. “You will never hurt me again,” I whisper.
Daddy’s chin gently tilts up, and he inhales when we lock eyes. That hummingbird casts a serene umbrella over the yard, paralyzing us in place.
Neither of us move, and my stare sinks into his the way it never could. The energy shifts, and I’m not sure if I should trust it.
I gasp, frightened that he’s going to sprint toward me. That he’s going to unravel his belt and whip my body with it. That he’s going to strike my cheek with the back of his hand or touch me between my legs.
But it’s none of those things he does.
For the first time in my entire life, Daddy doesn’t use his hands to speak to me.
Instead, his throat rolls right before he nods. In acceptance.
His mirage dissolves, and the hummingbird remains perched on the hanging flower pot.
My brows lift as I sigh a breath out. I reach for my shirt, stationing a palm on the center of my chest and clutching at the cotton. My lips fold, and my body replenishes with the courage that began to dwindle at the start of this conversation.
I dip my attention between me and Jesse, nudging the velvet boxes closer to him. Until he finally plucks them from my hand.
“I’m going to spend tonight clearing out my things,” I say. “I might have to spend the night here, but it will be in the spare bedroom or the couch.”
I lift my gaze to his, shoveling up the words I never got the chance to say when Daddy was alive. When I was just a kid. Just a teenager held hostage at her daddy’s cruel abuse.
And I decide that this isn’t for me. It’s for her.
This one’s for you.
“And you will not lay a hand on me,” I assert, jaw set. “Do I make myself clear?”
His chest inflates as he slightly tips his chin up. “I guess so.”
“Do I make myself clear?” I repeat.
He gulps. “Yes.”
I walk around Jesse to enter the house, knowing I’ll be able to chase all the dreams I ever had on the other side.
Finally.
* * *
I open the door of my Range Rover, ducking in to plant a couple boxes on the backseat. I reach over to rotate my duffle bag ninety degrees, grunting when the weight of it sinks over the curve of the leather.
My fist yanks it back, and a couple papers slip from the open side pocket. I bend to snatch the stray sheets, my brows furrowing when I only recognize one.
The first I lift is the invitation letter for Brant’s dinner tomorrow night. The second is the back of a photo.
The back of a photo with Brant’s handwriting on it.
Remember how we got here.
Remember us.
Remember ... the other side.
I pinch my eyes shut, Brant’s words from that last day in Willowhart echoing in my eardrums.
He licks his lips, placing his palm over my closed one. His thick layer of skin alludes to the incredible man he’s about to grow into, and a piece of my heart floats away.
The summer wind carries it off, and my only hope is that someday, it’ll return to me.
The piece that’s hopefully reserved for us on the other side.
“I don’t ever want you to forget me, Callie. And even though we’re excited to see the other side, and we’re eager for a fresh start, don’t ever forget how we got there. Always remember us. This side.”
I throw myself into him, my arms rounding his neck. “I’ll always remember,” I croak. “I’ll never forget this side.”
My fingers flip the picture over, and my lips part as I stare at the watercolor filter over me.
It’s the photo he snapped when we visited the arboretum. My nose is tucked into the pink-purple petals, eyes and mouth beaming at the camera. At him.
He must’ve tucked this in my bag this morning.
There’s so much color. Colors that blend seamlessly. With gentle gradients and a delicate transparency through the watercolor. The garden frames me, and it’s no wonder that in ten whole years, this is the first time I’ve seen a grin that genuine from my face.
My heart glows with a halo of warmth, the heat spreading to my bones. I search the photo round and round, realizing that he never showed me the picture he took that day. I remember asking to see it, but he refused.
And maybe this is the thing about sides.
You can change location, but you’ll only get greener pastures if you water the plantation when you finally get where you want to be.
Turns out, the other side was within arm’s reach all along.