He says nothing to that.
Nothing.
He looks at me for a moment, his mouth moving like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. Not knowing what else to do, I sit down with him on the floor.
That song he was singing in the barn that night, Randy Travis, “Are We In Trouble Now” is playing in the house, softly, though I don’t know where it’s coming from.
When I sit next to him, he won’t look at me. And when he does, I know something is up. He is giving me that look I’ve seen. The same look he gave me in the barn so many times. I don’t want to hear what he’s going to say to me. I just know it.
When Jackson died, my dad told me about the accident. But even before he told me, I knew by his face it was bad. An impending doom maybe.
I feel that now.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my palms sweating so bad I have to run them down my thighs.
Callan shakes his head at a thought maybe and reaches for the whiskey bottle in front of him. He takes a drink and then sets the bottle back down on the floor.
He’s struggling, but he has something to tell me. “Alanna. . .I. . .”
My anger rises when I see what this is, my eyes stinging that he can’t just say it. Why can’t he? Why is it that bad? Why does it have to be that bad?
“What Callan? What!?” I shout.
His eyes snap to mine, a little shocked and then he catches himself. “You need to leave,” he breathes, his voice monotone, staring at the bottom of his glass. A confused expression comes over his brow and then he runs his hand over the back of his neck.
My heart sinks at his words. It’s immediate, the feeling that rushes over me, collapses me at just four words.
“I. . .can’t have you around.”
If he’s wanting to break me down to tears, he’s done that. I feel them burning in my eyes immediately.
“Why?” I stare at the glass in his hand as I try to grasp what he’s saying to me.
“Because you’re a distraction. One I can’t have.” He sighs. “I got hurt because I looked up at you and couldn’t wait to get up there and kiss you. That’s a problem for me.”
I let his words sink in and I hate the feeling it gives me when they settle over me. I don’t know why I thought he was different. He’s clearly not. He’s just like the rest of them. Used me until it wasn’t fun for him anymore.
I want answers. I want to demand he answer me and give me a better reason than just being a distraction, but then again, I didn’t want anything from him. Headstrong, maybe, but I’m breaking and I think he sees it. My problem is, I’m that girl who’s always playing with fire, knowing she’s going to get burned but overlooking the flames for the heat she feels warming her frozen soul.
I say nothing as I stand and I still don’t say anything when I’m walking away, even as he’s calling out my name. Maybe he wants to make me feel worse.
Whatever the reason, I don’t turn around.
“Alanna. . .” He stands immediately and comes down the hall after me. “Wait. I didn’t mean you have to leave here, I just can’t have you come to Thackerville with me.”
I turn to face him and he turns to walk away. “Don’t worry, Callan. I know when I’ve been used and it’s time to go.”
He stops, dead in his tracks and turns to face me. His eyes are intent on mine like he’s trying to burn a hole through me. He is too. I feel the heat and my heart being ripped out of my chest.
I recognize this look because it’s the one he gave Sheldon in the bar the other night. Only now, it’s directed at me.
He swore softly, groaning, shaking his head. “Why do you do this to me?”
“What are you talking about, Callan?”
“Nothing.”
Fucking nothing? What?
It’s really just another piece of my heart being chipped away. Sooner or later, it’s going to be nothing but a pile of dust, chipped pieces of stone that nothing can put back together again.
He puts his hands on his hips, facing the wall. His head dips forward, contemplating and then I see it in the sudden change in his posture, he’s regretting the words he said.
When he hears my sobs, he whirls to face me. Like he can take back his words. You can’t. You can never take back words. Ever.
“Alanna, wait!” He tries to bring me to his chest, his arms wrapping around my waist but I push back away from him. His fingers dig into my flesh, desperate for me to not move.
“No!” I pound my fists into his chest, my tears flowing freely over my red cheeks. “Let me go!”
Jessie’s truck is parked in their driveway and I know there’s no getting her out of Ty’s room, so I decide I’m going to sleep in her truck. When I turn back to the house, I see Callan in the kitchen through the dim light.
I watch his knees fall to the floor.
Just watch.
I watch because it’s where my heart is, waiting for someone, him, to finally pick it up. Only he’s not going to.
When I wake up that morning, my skin burns from the sun. Sitting up, I see Jessie walking towards me, a little slower than usual eating a bag of beef jerky in her bra and underwear and cowboy boots. She reminds me of a toddler who refuses to get dressed and eats what she wants on the road.
“Is Ty here?” I ask when she gets in the truck with me and looks over at me.
“He just left. They’re heading for Thackerville.” She takes another bite of beef jerky. “Why did you sleep in the truck?”
My heart hurts at the words so hard to accept, let alone say. “Callan told me to leave. He says I’m a distraction.”
I tell her everything he said and that I refused to stay there with him after that.
Jessie doesn’t say much. She’s a listener. She’s just there for me.
“Do you want to go home?” She finally asks, stroking my hair back to cup my face with her palms. “If that’s what you want, we will.”
“Ty’s expecting you to be in Thackerville with him, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, but we’re just messing around, Alanna.” She shrugs and her eyes drop from mine. “It’s not like he loves me. I know that.”
“But what if he does?”
Her cheeks flush because though she knows it’s not there, I think she wants it to be. They’re cute together. “Let’s go to Oklahoma. Fuck Callan.”
It’s only an hour drive to Thackerville from Decatur and thankfully, Jessie and I don’t get lost this time. We stop off in Gainesville for food at Dieter Brothers Restaurant. It’s the first time in weeks that we’ve really been able to talk. Jessie tells me all about Ty and how funny he is. It’s nice to see her so happy, but I can’t help that I’m feeling a little down. I want to tell her everything about Callan but then it hurts.
I want to be happy for her and I am, but it’s one of those things where you keep thinking to yourself, why can’t I have that too?
I want more than anything for Jessie to be happy. “Are you glad you came?” I ask, dipping my fries in ketchup.
Jessie takes a drink of her milkshake and then smiles. “I am. I never want to go home.”
It makes me a little sad to hear that because I don’t know what I’m going to do now. I knew chasing Callan around wasn’t a life, but goddamn it, it was one I was starting to enjoy. I could easily see myself traveling with him to rodeos and cheering him on. If that made me one of those buckle bunnies, I don’t care. I’ll take that if I can have Callan.
And then, it hits me. Why am I like this? Why am I doing this to myself over a guy I’ve known less than a month?
Well. . .because I love him.
There.
That’s exactly it. For the first time since Jackson, and four years to the date he died, I fell in love with someone. It was something I never thought possible but happened.
“I think he loves you,” Jessie says when we’re almost to the WinStar World Casino where the show is being held.
“Why would you say that?” My heart beats fast
er at the words, wondering how she could tell.
“I see the way he watches you. I think that’s what scares him.” Jessie says, keeping her eyes on the road. “Ty says love scares Callan.”
Yeah, clearly it does.
“Too bad he can’t figure out what he wants.”
Jessie sighs. “I’m sorry honey.”
We’re late getting to the casino and by the time we’re inside and Kayla finds us, Callan’s in the chute getting ready for his ride. I tell her what happened and I see her face, she feels for me because she knows that feeling herself. He pushed her away too.
Her arm wraps around mine as we take a seat, same front row seats we always have. “I’m sorry.”
That’s all she says. I’m sorry. Like that’s supposed to make me feel better.
When I watch Callan in the chute, my heart aches so badly. He looks conflicted and I wonder if he’s thinking about what he said to me and if he regrets it. Maybe he’ll take back what he said?
Not likely.
And then he looks up as if he knows I’m here, his eyes immediately finding mine in a crowd of thousands. The look he gives me rips my heart out because that’s what it feels like he’s feeling. Like I really am a distraction. The reason he can’t concentrate.
He shakes his head at a question from Reed, gives me one last look and then nods. The bucking shoot opens and Catcher barrels out into the arena. He spins and rears once, twice, and then comes down hard and Callan’s thrown over the side of the bull landing on his knees. You can see he’s in obvious pain, slow to get up but then he looks at me like he’s telling me with that look that he’s nothing when I’m here. Without turning back around, he heads toward the arena fence.
Pulling in a shaking breath, tears roll over my cheeks as I turn and walk up the steps. It’s clear he doesn’t need me around.
Jessie and I end up staying the night in Thackerville at the casino with the rest of the bull riders, but I don’t Callan him that night. Jessie says he didn’t leave his room.
And neither do I.
The next day, I go to the rodeo, but I don’t sit with Jessie and Kayla. I want to stay away from Callan’s vision to see if I’m really the problem.
He gets tossed off his bull in the first four seconds and finishes fifteenth overall in the round.
When Jackson died, I thought to myself, this is the worst feeling in the world. I think I was wrong. This is the worst pain I have ever felt. It’s numbing too. Like slowly, I may be dying inside, or already there.
After the event, everyone’s in the bar celebrating, Ty won his first pro event. It’s a big deal for him. Jessie’s there with him, all dressed up and looking great. I stay in the corner near Kayla and Reed contemplating how I’m going to get home later. I can’t stay here and there’s no way I’m pulling Jessie away from this. Reed hands me a rum and coke. “Here. Looks like you need this.” His voice sends a spark to my heart because he sounds like Callan.
I smile, taking the drink and see Callan for the first time since the event. His mournful shoulders hunch as he walks, his head down. My heart tugs and I want to follow but I know I can’t.
I hate this feeling that comes over me. It hurts so bad and burns even worse, destroys me.
So I drink. And Reed helps me, stealing drinks every so often. Before I know it, I’ve had ten and I’m dancing with Sheldon, another rider. He’s whispering to me, touching places only Callan has touched recently.
I know what this means. I know where this is going, but I do nothing to stop it. I hate today. I hate the date, the meaning behind it, what was taken from me and what was decided wasn’t for me all of a sudden.
We’re at the bar, waiting for drinks when I hear, “You’re with Sheldon now?”
I turn to face him, my heart thudding loudly when I see those eyes and that face so close to me again. “Why do you care?”
Callan smiles, but it doesn’t touch his eyes. It’s forced. “I don’t but it didn’t take you long, did it honey?” His words are delivered slowly but have a strange impact on me. His voice is deep when he speaks, scratching at me and leaving blood in its wake. It’s like he knows exactly what to say to me right then. The exact words to make me hate him.
“Hey, Cal. . .” Sheldon says, smiling at him, his hand around my shoulders. I know why he did that and fuck if I didn’t lean into him. As if to say, you had your chance, Callan.
“It’s Callan. Cal is an old man’s name.” He smiles, a little provoking. “And I’m certainly not that.”
Sheldon laughs. “I suppose not.” And then he turns to me. “Ready to get out of here?”
Callan doesn’t like that at all. He shakes his head in annoyance, the hatred present in his glare toward Sheldon.
“Yes,” I reply immediately, walking away and then reaching out to grab Sheldon’s hand. Callan tenses, his jaw tightening as he watches a hand he reached for so many times in the hands of another man.
“Alanna!” Callan shouts after me. I don’t turn around. “I’m fucking talking to you, Alanna. Don’t you walk away from me!”
I turn immediately and I glare. Oh God, do I fucking glare at him. “You told me to walk away. You told me to leave!”
His face flushes at the remark and I think he’s going to say something else. Maybe break me down completely only he doesn’t. I watch his face and his dim-lit eyes, refusing to register a reaction. Nothing. It gives nothing. Then he blinks and it’s all at once, like my love for him. The rage hits him. When his eyes meet Sheldon, the chaos in his head is clear. He looks livid.
He pushes past me knocking his shoulder into mine but then stops, wanting to steal another piece. “Yet here you are. . .still here.” He’s being an asshole. He’s trying to be. He gives a nod to Sheldon, waiting for me at the door. “You look pretty comfortable already. Guess that’s really your thing, huh?”
I walk away. Again.
Before I reach the door, Jessie catches me, holding up her palms and giving me a disapproving look. “Don’t go with him, Alanna.”
It’s a feeling that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard I try to make it. It spirals inside of me, wrapping around my heart, tugging at my soul. It’s suffocating me, drowning, dying, slow and so painful that it’s excruciating to feel.
My body shakes when I step into the night, ignoring Jessie’s pleas. The sky is dark, angry clouds moving in but it does nothing to the heat. If anything, it makes it even more unbearable, like walking out into a steamy shower.
I shake my head and attempt to clear my thoughts.
Sheldon reaches for my hand. It’s not the hand I want to hold. It’s not the comfort I want.
What I want hates me.
I ache so bad that tears sting my eyes, burn like drops of acid. My chest feels heavier with each step in the parking lot. I can barely see to get in Sheldon’s truck with the tears, a lifted Chevy parked near the highway.
I hate myself for what I’m about to do. I hate myself even more when I think about Callan’s expression and the way he spoke to me.
Hatred makes you do things you said you wouldn’t. It makes you believe that maybe you deserve that pain you’re dealt.
When I get inside the truck, the leather feels warm on my bare legs. I slide over closer to Sheldon, my body seeming robotic in a sense. Like if I don’t think about this, it’ll be okay. If I don’t think, I won’t feel.
Right?
I know what I’m about to do is wrong. I pray I won’t give in to him in the ways I usually do when I have this feeling, but when Sheldon reaches for the button of his jeans, I know I will. It’s what’s expected of me.
“What do you want?” I ask anxiety, regret and disgust laced in my words. I run my hands down my face wiping tears away. I can feel Callan in my beating heart. It’s filling my visions with memories of rainy nights in his truck and his buckle. His starry eyes and the way his slow southern drawl always made me smile.
I stare at my hands in my lap and think of Callan’s when he reach
ed down and grabbed my hand that first night, palm to palm, and the way I never wanted him to let go.
He let go.
I breathe in, counting the beats in my chest, waiting for Sheldon to tell me what he wants.
“I think you know.” He finally says.
My eyes water, my throat burns and my hands shake.
Hot tears fall from my red-rimmed eyes and down flushed cheeks. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, shakes my bones, rips at my heart.
I know what he wants.
I don’t want to give it.
Not again.
Stop taking.
My body shifts, facing Sheldon. The feel of the warm leather on my palms reminds me of the heat in Callan’s touch.
Sheldon’s hand wraps around my hair, fisting, and then he shoves my head in his lap and my mouth to his erection he’s pulled free and holds with one hand. Tilting his head, he watches as he forces me down.
I’ve been here before.
It’s all so familiar.
It’s a devastating reality for me.
A wasted life.
It hurts. Sheldon groans, strong hands forcing me down and up, over and over again.
I cry and break apart, die a little more, surrendering my soul, shaking and regretting my reasoning. I know this is wrong and I want to stop.
I cry for my stupidity.
I cry for why. Why am I like this?
Why can’t I have forever?
The fourth time he shoves my mouth down on him, I gag, my stomach wrenching.
Sitting up, I push myself away from Sheldon. “I can’t.” I cry into my palms, spit soaking my lips. I attempt to wipe the back of my hand over my mouth, breathing heavy, calming but shaking deep breaths against my hand. I only cry harder now, sobbing.
Sheldon reaches for my hand and jerks it away. “You’re not finished.”
“I can’t.” I try to force myself away, crying harder than before.
“The hell you can’t. Get over here and finish what you started.”
I don’t want to look at him, but I do and I know I’m in trouble. He’s going to force me to finish. The idea of having to makes me want to puke. My stomach rolls, the blood pulsing in my cheeks with the beat in my chest. It feels like fire is ripping through my veins, clawing at my lungs, suffocating my heart.
Remember Tonight Page 15
