I shouldn’t be thinking about Cal Gatlin this way, not after the way he treated me. But something about the way he said sorry was softening me towards him.
“Because you’re perfect,” he said. “You’ve got friends. You’re smart as shit. You’re gorgeous.” He paused. “You’re everything I’m not.”
My eyes widened. Gorgeous? And more importantly, Cal being jealous? Why would he ever want anything about my life? I thought he hated me and everything I stood for.
“I’m not … perfect.”
“Yeah, well, you’re more perfect than most people will ever be,” he muttered. At that moment, my sleep shirt, a loose sweatshirt that fell off my shoulder constantly, slipped again.
His gaze wandered down to glance at the flesh of my chest before I pulled the sleeve up. I expected him to leer, but his expression was hurt instead.
I glanced down, following his eyes.
A purple bruise was blooming above my right breast, the spot where Nate had shoved me.
Cal zeroed in on it.
“Did he hurt you?” His voice was flat and dark.
“Why? You don’t give a shit.”
“Did. He. Hurt. You.”
“That’s none of your business.”
Before I could stop him, Cal leaned down and touched my shoulder. I froze. The warmth of his fingertips across my skin, pulling my shirt down and resting against my neck, was electric. At first I thought I couldn’t move out of fear. But then I realized I wasn’t afraid of Cal, not when he was touching me so gently.
I felt safe. Safe and cared for, for the first time in a long time. To have someone acknowledge that I was wounded and want to make it better … even if that person was Cal Gatlin, it was something I wanted to never stop. His touch wasn’t forcing me still out of fear. I was still because I liked it.
“You’re hurt,” Cal growled. “I’ll kill him.”
“Cal, just drop it.”
“No. This isn’t the first time he’s given you a bruise, is it?”
“Go away.”
“How many times has he hit you? In public, even? And no one ever stops it, do they? They pretend it didn’t even happen.”
“Cal, please.”
“Or maybe they convince themselves it didn’t happen. No way the perfect kid could hurt his perfect girlfriend.”
“Cal.” My voice was growing weak.
“I saw it happen last year. When you two were in the parking lot a few hours after school, when you thought nobody else was around, I was there. I wanted to fucking kill him.”
“Why do you care, Gatlin?”
My voice broke on the last word. Tears stung my eyes as they welled, and my hands were shaking in my lap.
“Can you quit acting like you don’t know?” he said, his voice irritated. His fingers traced the blooming bruise, their touch feather light. I had no idea that Cal Gatlin, the tattooed bad boy, could be so gentle. “I know you think I’m shit. I know you’d never consider it. But quit acting like you don’t know why I care. It’s getting old, all right?”
“I’m not acting. Just please .…” My voice broke again. I couldn’t stand having him here anymore. “Leave.”
Cal’s fingers lingered on my skin for a second longer, and a part of my wanted him to never let go. But finally, he sighed and picked himself up, crossing his arms again. I kept my gaze fixed on the hands in my lap. I couldn’t bring myself to look up at him, into his eyes. I couldn’t let him see me cry again.
“You can keep pretending everything’s all right, Nat,” he murmured. “But you’re right about one thing. Your life isn’t perfect. And the more you pretend it is, the worse it’s going to get.”
“Cal, just go.”
“I can’t save you if you won’t let me.”
“I don’t need to be saved.”
“I see you,” he said. “I know.”
He turned for the door. His tall, dark form lingered in the doorway, then glanced at me once last time. His gaze was soft.
“When you’re ready to quit acting, you know where to find me. Even if I am an asshole, I’m the only one who isn’t buying your act. And I don’t care if you’re not perfect.”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I waited for the soft click of the door closing, and then dragged myself in bed.
To hell with planning for the week. I needed sleep. And I needed to suppress the warm feelings that were growing inside me, urging me to admit that he was right—my life wasn’t perfect. I ached to confess that to someone.
But not Cal Gatlin. Never him.
Right?
The warmth of my blankets over me was heaven. I buried my face into the pillows, and I was met with a surprising new scent, something other than the usual scent of my strawberry shampoo.
Cal. My sheets smelled of Cal.
And I was surprised to realize it was delicious. Like smoke, the tang of motorcycle grease, the freshness of his soap and shampoo, and a deep musk that was uniquely him.
I buried my nose in my pillow, inhaling the deep, masculine musk. My muscles released and my heart slowed. I wrapped my arms around it, letting the warmth that Cal’s body left on it radiate around me, coaxing me into sleep. It made me feel what I felt when he touched me earlier. Safe.
Wait, shit! What was I doing?
I groaned and threw the pillow away. No. No, no, no. Was I feeling … friendly towards Cal? Something more, even? How on earth could someone so annoying smell so lovely, or even make me laugh like he had just a few minutes ago? Why was I aching to grab the pillow and drown in it again?
No. I refused to even think about what that meant.
I turned over in my sleep and pulled the sheets over me. Cal and I had a truce, sure. That was all it was.
That was all it would ever be.
The next morning, I didn’t slip out of the house as fast as possible. Something kept me lingering, taking extra time to button my cardigan and lace my tennis shoes. I passed by Cal’s room more than I needed to, my gaze constantly flitting to the crack underneath his door.
It stayed dark.
I stayed ten minutes longer than I should have, hemming and hawing in the kitchen, waiting for the sound of footsteps in his room.
They didn’t come.
Why I was waiting? It was ridiculous. Stupid.
Why should I care about Cal Gatlin?
He meant nothing to me.
That’s what I told myself over and over as I rode to school after a morning of stalling. And what I told myself at school, every time I walked through the halls, scanning them for signs of Cal. And what I told myself when I went home and he was nowhere in sight.
Even at home, Cal dodged me, remaining in his room unless absolutely necessary. Even then, he avoided eye contact as if we existed in entirely different realities. This went on for a week. Every day made me more and more anxious.
By Monday, I was going crazy.
I had to talk to him, even if it was ridiculous.
Jess met me in the hall on the way to lunch, chattering that Nate was off at a swim meet and something about Vanessa Miller convincing the other cheerleaders to go cheer them on. She steered clear of the topic of my new stepbrother.
I appreciated it.
And at least the whispers and looks at school had calmed. Now that it was clear I would (probably) not be murdered, I was no longer fun gossip material.
We made our way to our usual table—this time without Nate, which was good, because the first thing I did when I sat was scan the room for Cal. My eyes landed on him tucked away in a corner of the room, leaning against a barrier and gulping a bottle of (what I hoped was) water.
I stood.
“What are you doing?” Jess said in a hushed voice, as if just looking at Cal invoked bad mojo.
“I don’t know,” I admitted as I crossed the room to him.
His head turned to watch me.
A knowing smirk lit up his face. He had had his eye on me the whole time, and we both knew it. It made m
y stomach turn, but I wasn’t about to chicken out now.
His eyes followed me as I met him at his hiding place.
“Morning,” he said.
“So are you going to come sit down or what?” I asked, crossing my arms self-consciously.
He raised an eyebrow. “Is this an invitation?”
I didn’t answer, just waited. His full lips curved into a smile. My heart jumped and quivered in response.
No, stop feeling like that.
“Change of heart since the last time?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.
“Yeah. Well. We’re family. So.”
“Not afraid your boyfriend will get his ass beat?”
“Nate isn’t here.”
I cringed at the way his smile grew, realizing what an utter cop out of an answer that was.
“Oh, yes,” I added in a sharp voice, “of course Nate would get his ass beat, that’s why I’ve planned it all out like this. You got me. I would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn’t for you kids and that pesky dog.”
“Hm. Having strange men over while the hubby’s away. Kinky.”
I rolled my eyes at him, ignoring the way my body reacted to his voice saying kinky.
“Are you coming or not?”
To my suprise (and, strangely, excitement) he didn’t tell me to fuck off or keep teasing me. He slid his hands into his leather jacket and strolled toward the table where Jess was shaking like a spooked rabbit. I took a deep breath as I followed him. This was a terrible decision.
But then again, most of my decisions were.
“Morning to you too,” he greeted Jess. She sat there with wide eyes, staring at him like he might stab her at any moment. Which, granted, was a possibility given the rumors that surrounded him. He stuffed the water bottle into his jacket.
Despite myself, I rolled my eyes again. But not at Cal. At Jess this time. I took me aback that I was defending Cal like that, even if only in a small way. But it was true. He was an asshole, but he wasn’t that bad.
Oh my God, can you hear me?
Cal Gatlin? Not that bad?
What was this boy doing to me?
“Jess, this is my, uh… my brother,” I said, by way of an awkward introduction.
She nodded shortly. I could practically hear her heart hammering in her chest. Mine was the same.
“Stepbrother,” he murmured, leaning back in his chair. His cool gaze landed on me and lingered for a moment too long.
“Yeah. That.”
Cal sized up Jess as I picked through my salad, wondering why in the world I did this in the first place. I had a million things I wanted to ask him. And a few things to interrogate him with. Namely how he could go from so hot to so cold. From the downright nasty man who had asked me to say cock for him to the gentle one that had tended to my bruise.
I sorted out my thoughts, preparing to start in on the Spanish Inquisition, but I didn’t get the chance. Because Jess had built her courage up first, and her head peeked up to stare at Cal again.
“If you’re here to kill Nate,” she said, “he’s gone.”
“Really? Damn.” Cal cracked his knuckles. “Guess I’ll have to stick around until he comes back.”
A few freshmen at the table next to us glanced over and whispered with wide eyes and gasps amongst themselves.
Jess frowned.
“It’s not funny, you know. Causing shit for Natalie. She has it hard enough as it is.” Her eyes were still wide and terrified, but her chin tipped up defiantly.
Wow. Go Jess. She cared about me, of course—she was my best friend. But I didn’t think she’d go so far as to put her life on the line by sassing Callum Gatlin. Cal didn’t seem to expect it either, and his impressed smile appeared, the one he saved for whenever I told him to fuck off.
“I ain’t here to hurt anybody. Least of all Nat.”
Nat. My nickname rolled so easily off of his tongue.
Jess noticed too and glanced at me, incredulous.
“Are you even still with him?” Cal asked, turning his head. “He hasn’t talked to you since last week.”
I stabbed my salad, wondering how Cal would have known something like that. Maybe he was keeping better tabs on me than I thought he was. “I don’t know. It’s not like we were ever really, properly dating. We didn’t even go to prom together last year.”
“You get why that is, don’t you?” he asked. “It’s cause I called him out. Now he’s scared shitless.”
“Drop it.”
“He never appreciated you anyway,” Cal growled. “Pathetic that he’s too fucking stupid—and too busy fucking other chicks—to see what he’s got at home.”
“What?”
The world froze around me.
“I said he’s an idiot. Not like that’s news.”
“No. What did you say about … about other chicks?”
Cal crossed his arms and leaned back, his gaze even.
“Don’t tell me you don’t know. You have to have known.”
“That’s ridiculous. I mean—yeah, we weren’t really, properly dating, I guess, but we still….” I turned to Jess. “Nate would never…?”
Jess’s expression made me want to vomit.
“Natalie,” she said. She licked her lips, pausing to gather her thoughts. “I thought you knew. I mean, with Vanessa always around, and….”
She bit her lip, looking into my eyes. It was the same incredulous look that Cal was giving me. The pitying look.
“That’s such bullshit,” I said weakly to Jess. “Do you hear him? Bullshit.”
Jess didn’t answer, picking at the crust of her sandwich nervously, her gaze fixed on the table. My mouth went dry.
It was bullshit, wasn’t it? Nate had his problems, sure, but he had never fucked around on me. I mean … surely he didn’t even have time for that between swim practice and studying and whatever else he did … right?
I looked back at Cal, expecting to see his mocking gaze back. Instead he was just sad.
“You really don’t know?”
“Fuck off, Gatlin.”
“I’m not antagonizing you. I told you, I’m sorry I was an asshole earlier. But I’m telling the truth now.”
Jess’s head lifted, and she sucked her bottom lip as she watched us. I could read her expression: Cal Gatlin told someone he was sorry? That was the biggest bullshit of it all.
But it was true. And if that was true, what else could be?
Oh God. I was going to be sick.
“I’ve got to go,” I said, stuffing my lunch back into my backpack. Where was I going? Why did I have to go? I didn’t know. I just knew I was feeling dizzy, and the sound of Callum’s words kept echoing in my head: fucking other chicks, fucking other chicks, fucking other chicks.
My stomach twisted again.
I had to get to a bathroom before I vomited.
“Natalie, wait—” Cal said, standing up with me. His voice was soft. It was warm and comforting instead of the hard orders that Nate would give. He reached out a hand to me.
I flinched.
His eyes went dark, and his jaw locked. His anger wasn’t directed at me, but it didn’t matter.
“I have to,” I choked, shaking my head and stumbling. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“Nat, can I come in?”
Cal’s voice was joined by three sharp raps on my bedroom door. My eyes burned, and my cheeks were sticky with dried tears. A teardrop splashed against the glowing screen of my phone as I glared at it, my ass planted on the floor in front of my bed, silently begging Nate to text back.
I had been waiting for five hours with no response.
A bundle of missed calls from Jess flashed across the screen, but I wasn’t ready to talk to her yet. I loved her, but I needed to talk to someone else. Someone who understood.
I wet my lips and rasped, “Come in, Cal.”
Why did I let him in? I don’t know.
I just knew that I needed him there with me.
Save Me: a Stepbrother Romance Page 4
