Remember Tonight

by Chelsea Landon

  “I can’t. . .” My words end short by a loud thump and the breaking of glass from the driver's side window. The sound causes me to immediately jump. My hands fly to my ears as tiny shards of glass fill the cab, exploding around us. Glass covers my bare legs and hands.

  It takes me a moment to comprehend what’s happened and my mind to catch up with what happened.

  “What the fuck, Callan?!” Sheldon shouts, flinging his door open. It hits Callan who’s standing there, eyes trained on mine.

  Sheldon buttons his jeans and then jumps from the truck.

  Callan’s eyes dart from mine to Sheldon, and then he’s shoved backward into another car. His head snaps back at the force and into the window.

  What was he doing out here? Did he see? The thought that he might have seen what I was forced to do. The thought sends a sharp jolt to my heart.

  The shouting outside grabs me and I see Callan laying into Sheldon. He’s delivering punch after punch, intent on one thing, inflicting pain that’s coursing through him.

  My shaking hands reach for the handle and run around the back of the truck where they’re fighting. They’re both bleeding, never giving up. Callan sees me, his eyes completely despondent as he wipes blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and then rushes Sheldon again.

  “Callan! Stop!”

  He doesn’t.

  He can’t.

  “What’s your problem?” Sheldon shoves him back, staggering from the blows but still meeting him head on. “You left her alone. What’d you expect to happen with a girl like that?”

  That’s not what Callan wanted to hear. It’s obvious he’s ready to bleed to death to defend whatever it is he thinks he’s defending. Dropping his right shoulder, he draws back and delivers another crushing blow to Sheldon’s stomach.

  Sheldon grunts in response and hunches forward in obvious pain. Callan then grabs his shirt, fisting the fabric between his hands and then raises his knee to Sheldon’s mouth.

  “Please stop! Please!” I cry watching his fist, the fire in his eyes and the blood on his hands. He’s not going to stop.

  His bloodshot eyes meet mine, his fists gripping Sheldon’s shirt. “That’s the problem, Alanna. I can’t when it comes to you!”

  Sheldon falls forward against the pavement, slumping against the side of his truck in obvious pain.

  “You touch my girl again,” Callan spits blood at him, “and I’ll kill you!”

  “Callan! He’s hurt!”

  “Fuck him. Get in the fucking truck,” He gestures to his truck parked on the side of the road. “Now!” He roars, but I hear the torment in his voice. I jump having never heard him so angry with me. “I told you to fucking leave!” He roars at me, hands shaking. “This is why! You can’t keep your legs closed for anyone, can you?”

  “Fuck you.” I shove him hard.

  His back hits his truck and then he smiles, slow, condescending. “Get in the goddamn truck, Alanna.”

  Sheldon coughs and moans in pain on the ground and I know despite feeling bad that he’s hurt, I don’t feel all that bad because had Callan not come, I know what would have happened.

  “Jesus, Callan, was that necessary? You didn’t have to hurt him like that.” I yell until my voice gives and my tears blind me.

  “He’s fine. And yes it was fucking necessary!” He throws the door to his truck open and then my back hits it. Not hard but my eyes draw to his. “Get inside that truck. Now.”

  “No!” I cross my arms over my chest, demanding I stay right here. No way I’m going anywhere with him now. Fuck that. He’s a lunatic. A mad man.

  His eyes flare with aggression hatred and disbelief that I’m questioning him. He doesn’t wait and lifts me up, setting me on the seat. I go to get out and he glares at me, “Stay in the goddamn truck, Alanna.”

  By the look he gives me, one that demands to be heard with no warmth to his blues, I decide it’s a warning I finally take.

  He walks around the front of the truck, his eyes never leaving mine. He runs the back of his hand over his bleeding mouth and then spits blood. When he gets in, he slams his door shut. I jump at the sound and then the sky lights up with a sudden bolt of lightning followed by the booming crack of thunder.

  “You’re an asshole!” I don’t give up because damn it, he’s going to fucking hear me.

  He nods. “I am. I don’t know why you expected anything else of me.”

  Sometimes I’m afraid Callan’s crazy. Most bull riders are I guess. They have to be to saddle up for an eight second ride on a one-ton beast.

  Sensing he’s not in the mood for provoking, I wait until he’s not driving. He throws the truck into gear and peels out of the gravel parking lot spraying up rocks in the wake. He takes me about a mile down the road to a hotel room.

  “Don’t you dare run away from me when I stop this truck!” There’s no mistaking the warning in his voice. “This storm isn’t going to just blow over and it’s not safe out here.”

  I knew that. I’ve lived in tornado country for years. The last place I want to be is caught in the storm. Though it’s certainly tempting to run away from him, I don’t.

  We get inside the hotel room and I want to strip away my wet clothes but I also don’t want to in front of Callan. Fuck him. He doesn’t get to see me naked anymore. Maybe never again.

  I collapse on the floor near the bed, crying and he slams the hotel door shut with his foot. With frustration, he tosses his wallet and keys on the table by the door and then rips his wet shirt over his head. It slaps against the floor and then he leans back into the door, sliding down to a seated position and bringing his knees to his chest. “Fuck!” He shouts, pulling at his hair.

  I see it right then, he’s hurting and on the verge of either blowing up or falling to his knees. It’s a good thing he’s on the ground already because I’m pretty sure it’s the falling that he’s about to do.

  His face pales, each labored breath shaking his regretful frame. I’m concerned about him but then again, I shouldn’t care after the way he treated me.

  He watches my face closely and I know he feels my desperation. With a frustrated sigh, wanting to get up and leave, but knowing I can’t in this storm, my head leans against the side of the bed.

  “Look at me.” He says, his voice heavy as he wraps a towel around his bleeding hand from where he punched the window.

  Unable to control my sobs, I shake my head. I never want to look at him again. Anger rises in me, heating and prickling my skin.

  “Do you think I wanted to see that?” He whispers, hanging his head, his forearms resting on his knees that are pulled up. His hands find his face. “Is that who you want—Sheldon? You know he’s not good for you.”

  “You told me to leave.” My tears constrict my words, so relentless they won’t quit. “And now what? Because you saw me with someone else you’ve suddenly changed your mind? I’m not some piece of property you can just take back when you decide it’s your turn. I’ve lived like that and I never will again. Not even for you.” The words came out in a rush as if all of a sudden they flooded my brain and needed to come out all at once before I can breathe right. But even then, once they’re said, I can’t.

  “I’m not saying that.”

  “Then what are you saying because it’s confusing. You told me to leave.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “No, I didn’t because you forget, your brother fell for Jessie. Remember?” I ask, my chest heaving with heavy breaths. “Or did you forget that already? He is capable of having both.”

  “You should have just left. . .” He mumbles, so quietly I’m not sure I hear him correctly. I can hear the wind whipping around outside, hitting the window with what could be a tornado. I wouldn’t care at this point.

  “What?” I whisper over my tears and pounding heart. I count the beats as I wait for him to reply, give me an indication as to what he means by that.

  “Did you think of me at all before you broke my
fucking heart?” He asks, that desperation returning. I look at him then, needing to see his eyes.

  My breath rushes out in a gasp, my lips parting in shock.

  “Or was that your plan? Because I told you to leave you wanted to rip my heart out and make me see that?”

  “What are you talking about? You told me to leave! You didn’t want me! So what made you think I needed you to protect me?”

  “Don’t treat me like I’m the asshole for wanting to protect you.” He spits and I hear the absolute torment in his voice.

  I have to take a breath right then. I have to because we’re both getting so worked up that I’m afraid of what we’re going to say next. I know this argument. I had the very same one with Jackson the night he died and I don’t like this one bit. It brings back memories I intended on keeping hidden forever.

  “You know. . .I’m so mad at you,” I tell him, wanting him to understand my sadness over this. “I came here because I thought you were different. Not that I was expecting you to fall in love with me, but you saw me as me.” He’s listening, his bloodshot eyes on mine. “Every night I used to stare at the stars. They were like these little flickers of hope that I wouldn’t always feel this way. And then one day, a guy comes to town and I didn’t feel that way anymore. Suddenly I had hope.”

  “I’m sorry, baby.” Callan reaches forward to touch me, pushing himself away from the door, but I push back away from him, not ready to feel his touch on me. “I just. . .I got distracted and it scared me. I’ve had one passion my entire life. One way I wanted to live and now I see that a little different and I’m not sure how to take that.”

  “Why am I a distraction?”

  He shakes his head, not sure how to answer that. “Because I worry about you. I. . .well you’re not the only one that saw things differently.”

  “If you. . .” I couldn’t finish.

  His head is in his hands again, not looking at me. “I love you, Alanna.” He whispers into his hands.

  My mouth opens wide when the words register. I stare at him wondering where the “but” is.

  Though he said it, surely there was more to that statement. Loved me but couldn’t be with me?

  He waits for my reaction.

  “But you don’t want me around. . .” I finish his words for him, wondering if I’m right.

  “It’s not that. It’s just that I’ve never loved anyone but Kayla. And I don’t know how to deal with it. I don’t know how I can have that and bull riding. It’s dangerous. You have to be prepared that when I mount that bull, it could be for the last time.”

  My stomach burns, my heart pounding erratically as I remember him hitting the ground and the feeling that surged through me that day. My hands shake, the images of him bleeding and stumbling around. What if he hadn’t been okay? What if it happens again?

  “I can’t break your heart like that.” His words are delivered with a certain amount of anger. Like it kills him to say that. “It’s already happened once.”

  “What?”

  “With Jackson.”

  “What about you?” He’s stunned, taken aback by my question. His happiness was never considered. It never was with Kayla either. He knew he couldn’t give her what she wanted and he let her go. In his world, he has happiness. He’s making a living doing what he loves.

  What he never considered was the he could have both. Someone could love him the way he needed.

  I can love him like that.

  I want to love him like that.

  I should be mad at what happened, but I never considered this side until now. He pushed me away because he thought it was the best for me. He didn’t want to break the broken girl’s heart again.

  The problem was he had already. And he was the very person that could put it back together again.

  “I want you, Callan. I don’t care what happens next because I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.” I don’t move from my place next to the bed and he doesn’t move either, his head still in his hands. “I also know that I wouldn’t change any of that for the sake of never jumping and getting my heart broken. Break it. I love you and I’m giving it to you.” He finally looks up at me. “Rip it apart because at least you gave me the chance to see how that felt.”

  “I don’t know. . .”

  “Look at Reed and Kayla now.”

  My statement doesn’t register. “What about them?”

  “They’re together and happy. How come we can’t be like that?”

  “Because Reed’s better than me. I can’t be like him. I don’t know how to balance it.”

  I smile, uneasy. “We can try. Together.”

  He’s conflicted. He wants to, but he’s scared.

  “Say something.”

  I feel the panic flood and rush through me when he speaks. “I don’t see how we can ever work.”

  “Don’t say that, Callan.” He groans, running his hands down his face. “Don’t tell me it’s over. Don’t make me sit here with you in this storm and break my heart again.”

  “I know I don’t want to lose you again.” He finally says. “When I saw you with Sheldon, it fucking ripped out my heart. That’s when I knew I loved you because nothing had ever felt like that before. I wanted to kill him simply for being there. And then I saw your head. . .” He can’t finish, his bloody fists clenching again.

  “I’m sorry.” My words shake my wavering stare on the floor.

  “I know. . .”

  I scan the room at the Red River Inn for the first time. My stare had mostly been on the carpet that was playing tricks on my teary eyes with its crossed colors. While the teal walls are easier to look at, a burnt red comforter and drapes aren’t. They remind me of my bleeding heart and how bad it hurts right now.

  “Why did you tell me to leave then?”

  “I’m sorry.” His voice is tender as he comes forward. This time I let him. I need to let him because this is the part where we forgive each other. “I just. . .all I thought about was you. For the first time in my life, that didn’t make any sense and I was distracted. I have all these people looking to me to keep up my performance from last year.”

  “Do you regret it?” The words spill from my lips before I can stop them. I need to know if he regrets what we’ve done or me coming here in the first place. I know he told me to leave, but I also know that he feels love for me now and I can’t let that go so easily.

  The corners of his mouth tug into a slight smile and the memories hit me and my breath catches. He comes closer, his hand that’s not wrapped in a towel moving across the carpet as he reaches for my hand. The feeling of his palm on the back of my hands sends a jolt straight to my heart. It’s such a simple gesture, holding hands but it means so much and I think he gets it. His eyes beg me, plead for me to see the truth. It’s a warmer smile than I’ve seen in the last few days. “No, that’s not one of my regrets.”

  “I never meant to hurt you with what happened in the truck with Sheldon. I just. . .it’s been four years today since Jackson died and it hurt that of all the days that I would feel like this, it was today.” And then I take a deep breath because I tell him something I’ve never told anyone before. “Jackson and I got in a fight that night. The reason he died was because he was speeding away from my house.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for that.”

  “Yes, I can. I broke up with him that night.”

  “Why?” He moves to sit next to me drawing his knees up, his elbows resting on his knees.

  “He went to Kasey’s baseball game and didn’t come over until later. I was fourteen and a brat. It was completely childish and I regret it but there’s nothing I can do about it now.”

  Callan lets out a heavy breath and it makes me nervous. Like he’s going to say something I don’t want to hear. I feel the warmth spread throughout my chest and face, waiting for that unknown again. “I’m afraid you need me in ways you shouldn’t.”

  “That’s not true.” I swallow over the dryness
in my throat that feels like I have sawdust in my mouth. “I don’t need you. I can live without you in my life. The thing is. . .I want a life with you. I know that sounds crazy, but I do.”

  He’s silent, unmoving, maybe even not breathing. And then he clears his throat, thinking about what I just said. My stomach does a flip when he barely raises those long lashes.

  What’s he thinking? It’s driving me mad not knowing. I just basically said I didn’t want to live without him and he’s saying nothing.

  Nothing!

  “Please don’t tell me that you want me to leave again, Callan. Please don’t do that to me.” I’m going on a bit of a rant and I think he knows it because I’m ready to say more, but I stop when I see the look on his face.

  He scratches his cheek, waiting for me to finish my speech. “Are you done?”

  “I was just letting you know.”

  His sighs, shaking his head in amusement and then pulls me against him. “I’m not going anywhere and neither are you.”

  I can feel his heart pounding, the strong muscles of his chest flexing as he wraps his arms around me. “Callan I. . .”

  He stops me, pressing his fingers to my lips. “Tell me. . .”

  “No!” I interrupt him shaking my head. I want to tell him that I love him and have him hear me right now. I don’t want to wait like I did last time. “I’m not waiting another city to tell you.”

  He laughs, his head leaning back against the mattress. “I was going to say tell me after I kiss you.”

  “Oh,” I turn in his arms and grab his shoulders pulling him to my chest. “In that case, I will tell you later.” My mouth presses to his, eager, desire filled and passionate. This time there’s more to it. I know that this is one of those kisses that lasts a lifetime. The ones that you remember in those moments and go back to. You say to yourself, I remember that kiss for the way his tongue felt gliding over mine or the gentle way he cupped my cheek and held me close. I’ll remember the sighs and the tiny groans when he wants to take it further but then sighs again, being content with the moment and what it meant for us.