"Doing what? Talking to HER?" She points to Callie. "The town loser?"
I get out of my chair and face Katie. "Why the fuck would you call her that?"
"Because that's what she is. She hides away in her house all day. She never comes out except to work at that coffee shop or go to the grocery store. And people say they've seen her at the store counting to herself like some psychopath. She should be locked up in a mental ward. She's crazy."
"And you're a bitch. Now get the hell away from me."
"How dare you call me that! You're an ass!" She throws her drink at me. Luckily it's clear so doesn't stain my shirt. She storms off and I turn back to Callie but she's not there. "Callie?" I look all around me but can't find her. Her glass is empty. And so is mine. She drank the rest of my whiskey. Great. So she ran off and she's drunk.
Maybe she just went to the restroom. I head over there and ask one of the girls waiting in line to go in the restroom and call her name. She does, but says Callie isn't in there. I return to the bar, searching for her.
Bryce comes up to me. "Who are you looking for?"
"Callie. Have you seen her?"
"No. Why? Did she take off?"
"Yeah. I gotta find her. I'll see ya later."
I hurry outside, but she's not in the parking lot. I hear some noise on the side of the building and walk around it and find Callie crouched down, her body shaking, her hands covering her face.
"Callie!" I race over to her. She's sobbing. I crouch down in front of her and pull her into my arms, then sit on the ground, holding her in my lap. "Callie, don't listen to her. She's a bitch. A cold, heartless bitch."
Callie grabs hold of my shirt and buries her face in my chest, still sobbing.
What Katie said was rude and mean, but I didn't think it would affect Callie so much. She knows Katie's a bitch, so why is she letting her affect her this way?
"Callie, just forget about her. She only said those things because I ignored her and she was pissed."
"It's not that," Callie says, sniffling.
"Not what?"
"It's not just about Katie."
"Then what's going on?" I stroke her hair. "Please, just tell me."
"I shouldn't be here," she whispers.
"At the bar? Why?"
"It's wrong."
"Why is it wrong?" I ask, feeling like she's finally going to tell me something.
But then she doesn't answer.
"What's wrong about being here?" I ask.
"I shouldn't be out. Having fun." Tears are pouring down her face.
"Why not?"
"Because it's wrong. I shouldn't be here."
I'm trying to figure this out. Why shouldn't she be here? Is she a recovering alcoholic? Or did something happen at this bar that brings back bad memories?
"Why can't you be here?" I ask. "Is it just this bar or any bar?"
"It's not just the bar. I shouldn't be here. Or anywhere. I'm not supposed to be here." She breaks down sobbing again so I just hold her and let her cry.
She's scaring me with those comments. She's not supposed to be here? Or anywhere? What does that mean? It's almost like she's saying she wishes she weren't alive. God, I hope that's not what she means. Maybe this is all just drunk rambling, although I've found that the truth often comes out when people are drunk.
When her crying slows, I lift her face to mine to get her attention. "Callie. Tell me what you meant just now. Why aren't you supposed to be here?"
She lays her head on my chest. "Can we please just go home?"
"Yeah. Let's go find Austin."
"You go. I don't want to go in there again."
"I'm not leaving you out here alone. I'll just call him." I get my phone out. It takes a few rings before he picks up. "Austin, meet me outside."
"Why? What's wrong?"
"I need to get Callie home. Can you drop us off?"
"Sure. I'll be right out."
"Come on," I say to Callie, helping her up to standing. We walk around to the front of the building. Austin is already there waiting. I give him a look not to ask questions. We drive in silence all the way to the house. Austin parks in my driveway and I help Callie out.
As she waits off to the side, I go up to the driver's side window and Austin rolls it down. "Yeah?"
I hand him my house keys and lower my voice. "I'm going to stay with her tonight. You can have my bed if you want. It's a lot better than the couch."
He glances at Callie. "Is she gonna be okay?"
"I don't know yet. But I don't want to leave her alone."
"What happened?"
"Some girl at the bar said all this bad shit about her. But I don't think that's why she's upset. I think it's something else. I'll talk to you in the morning."
"Yeah. Okay."
"Remind Jake he needs to be here at eight."
"I will."
We both know Jake won't be coming home tonight. He'll be going home with the blonde.
"Let's go." I take Callie's hand and walk her back to her house. "Got your key?"
She finds it in her purse and hands it to me. I open her door and we step inside.
"Thanks for taking me home," she says. "But you didn't need to leave the bar. You should've stayed."
"I went there with you. So if you leave, I leave."
"Okay, well, goodnight." Her head drops and she wipes her face, which is covered in dried tears.
"I'm not leaving. I don't want you to be alone tonight."
She looks up at me. "Why?"
"Because I'm worried about you. I don't think you should be alone. I'll sleep on the couch. If you need me, just come get me."
"You don't need to stay. I'm fine now. I just..." She squeezes her eyes shut and takes a deep breath. "It's just the alcohol. It was too much."
That's not it. I know it's not.
"Let's get you to bed." I help her down to her room and when we get there, she starts undressing like I'm not even there. She's definitely drunk. She wouldn't be doing this if she was sober. She lifts her dress up and over her head, leaving her in a black bra and matching panties. She has soft, beautiful curves and gorgeous smooth skin. Fuck, she's hot. I need to get out of here.
"I'm just gonna go." I step back toward the door.
"Wait." She comes up to me. "Would you stay here until I fall asleep?"
"Yeah." I glance away from her body. "Where are your pajamas?"
"In the second drawer."
She takes her bra off as I go to the dresser. Don't look, I tell myself, but of course I look. I'm a guy. I can't help but look at a gorgeous woman wearing nothing but a pair of lacy black panties.
"Will this work?" I hold up a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt.
"No pants. It's too hot. Just give me the shirt."
I toss it to her and she puts it on. There. At least now, half of her is covered. I put the pants back in the drawer and pull out some shorts.
"Here." I offer them to her.
"The shirt's enough." She yanks back the covers on her bed and gets inside, scooting over to make room for me.
"I'll just lie on top," I tell her.
She nods and closes her eyes. I cover her up, then turn the light off and lie beside her, holding her in my arms.
"Nash?" she whispers.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"One night." She pulls the covers up higher and scoots farther back into my arms.
I don't know what she's talking about or why she's thanking me. There's still so much I need to know about this girl. Tonight just made me even more confused.
Chapter Seventeen
Callie
When I wake up, I feel a big, heavy arm draped over my waist. I turn my head and see Nash behind me, his large body curved around mine. What is he doing in my room? In my bed? And then I remember I asked him to stay here last night. At least I think I did. I was so out of it I'm not sure. That alcohol went straight to my bloodstream, and al
though I remember part of last night, I don't remember all of it. Nash found me outside the bar and I said something to him, but I'm not sure what. Shit. I hope I didn't tell him about my family.
I know I need to tell him, but I'm not ready to yet. Doing so will change everything, and I don't want it to change. I like being the carefree college student living here for the summer and working a part-time job and hanging out with the hot guy next door. That's the reality I want. The fake one, not the one that's actually true.
"Callie?" I hear Nash mumble behind me. "You awake?"
"Yeah." I sink back into his chest. He doesn't have a shirt on. He must've taken it off in the night. He's still above the covers but I can feel the warmth of his body. If only I could feel this every night. Someone next to me, holding me, making me feel like I'm not so alone.
"I wasn't planning to sleep here," he says. "I was going to sleep on the couch but I never made it there."
I turn onto my back and face him. "You seemed to have lost your shirt in the night."
He chuckles. "I tend to undress in my sleep when I get too hot. Sometimes I wake up completely naked and don't even remember taking my clothes off."
"That's a skill. Or a problem, depending on how you look at it."
He sits up on his elbow and skims his hand over my cheek. "How are you feeling?"
"I have a headache and my throat is dry but other than that, I'm okay."
"I'm surprised you don't feel worse. You drank a lot last night, in a short amount of time."
"Yeah, I probably shouldn't have done that."
"Do you want to tell me why you did?" he asks in a soft caring tone.
I shut my eyes. "Not really."
"Callie." He slides his hand under my hair along the side of my face and gently turns me toward him. "Callie, look at me."
I open my eyes. "What?"
"I need to know what you meant last night."
"About what?"
"About what you said when we were sitting outside the bar."
"I don't remember what I said." It's true. I really don't.
"You said you shouldn't be there, not just at the bar, but anywhere."
Dammit. Why would I say that? I'm such an idiot. Getting drunk was supposed to help me get through the night, but instead it made me say things I shouldn't have.
"I don't know what I meant," I say. "I was drunk."
"I think it was more than that. You were crying, and you kept saying you shouldn't be there. Or anywhere. Like you shouldn't be here." He pauses. "Like...with the rest of us. Callie, you're not thinking of...doing something to yourself, are you?" He asks it cautiously, as though he's either afraid to ask the question or afraid of the answer.
The answer is that I have thought of that. Right after the accident, I missed them so much that I was willing to give up my life for a chance to see them again, and to get rid of the pain and make it end. But then I came to my senses and forced those thoughts out of my head.
"Callie?" he asks, his thumb rubbing over my cheek.
I force out a smile. "No. Of course not. I don't know what I was talking about. I don't even remember saying that."
"Do you remember seeing Katie?" he asks.
I didn't, but now that he said it, I do remember seeing her. Then I remember what she told Nash about me and I panic. What if he believed her? Does he think I'm crazy like she said?
"Yeah, I remember." I glance away from him.
"If she were a guy, I would've hit her. Who the hell says shit like that? God, I was so pissed when she talked about you that way."
"It's okay. That's just the way she is."
"It's not okay. I don't know why she would say those things about you. You don't even know her, do you?"
"Only from taking her order at the coffee shop. Other than that, no." I chew on my lip. "Can we just not talk about her?"
"Of course." He leans down and kisses my cheek. "I'd love to stay here but I should probably head over to the house and get those guys out of bed."
Just then, we hear a grinding noise outside and some metal clanking.
"I guess they're already up," Nash says. "What time is it?"
I check the clock. "Eight-thirty."
"Shit, I need to get going." He climbs over me and out of bed, then goes to the window. "They've already got everything set up and ready to go. Even Jake's there." He turns back to me, smiling. "They're a pain in the ass, but I love my brothers."
I'm jealous. I wish I had brothers, or sisters, or anyone I could consider family.
Nash puts his shirt on and buttons it up. "Now they're gonna yell at me for sleeping late with my girlfriend when I should've been working."
I flip on my side, watching him dress. "I'm not your girlfriend."
"Doesn't matter. They'll still call you that." He comes over to the bed and sits next to me, smiling. "Would the girl I'm in an undefined relationship with mind going out and getting us some breakfast? I'll give you some money."
"Yeah, I can do that."
He kisses me, then sits back, looking at me with concern. "Are you sure you're okay? You'd tell me if you weren't, right?"
"Nash, stop asking me if I'm okay. I'm fine."
He's already treating me differently. Acting differently. All because of what I said last night, and because of what Katie said. This is why I can't tell him the truth. I don't want him feeling sorry for me, walking on eggshells, afraid to talk to me because he thinks he'll say the wrong thing. Lou acted like that for months after the accident and I hated it. I'm not going to have Nash act the same way. We have a few short months together, then before he moves back to Chicago, I'll tell him the truth. He'll be so angry at me for lying to him that he'll leave me alone. He'll never speak to me again. And I'll go on like I have the past year, surviving one day at a time.
After I have breakfast with the guys, I go inside and clean the house, which I usually do on Saturdays, not Sundays. Nash has got my schedule all messed up, which normally would make me feel nervous and anxious, but surprisingly I'm okay.
I dust around Greg's book on the side table in the living room, taking a deep breath and pretending it's just a book, not a memory. But then I see him there in his chair, reading, with Ben sound asleep on his shoulder, and it starts again.
One, two, three, four, five...
"Callie?" I stop when I hear a voice at the door. It's Austin.
"Hey." I smile, but I'm panicking, wondering if he heard me. "You need something?"
"I just need to use the bathroom."
"Go ahead."
He doesn't have to ask, but it's nice that he does. His brothers do the same, always announcing themselves at the door and then asking before they come in. I really like Nash's brothers. They're really sweet guys. Very considerate and polite. And I don't think it's because Nash told them to act that way. I think that's just how they were raised.
"Tell the guys I'm making lunch again," I say to Austin when he comes out from the bathroom.
"We thought we'd just go out for lunch so you wouldn't have to make it."
His bare chest with those chiseled muscles, glistening with sweat, is making it hard to concentrate. I wonder how many hours a day he has to work out to look that way?
"I don't mind making lunch," I say, forcing my focus back to what we were talking about. "Tell them lunch is at noon."
"I will. Thanks." He leaves, but then comes right back, a grin on his face. "Nash would kill me for saying this but..."
"What?" I ask.
"He's totally into you. He said you two aren't dating, but I know he wants that. He never looked at Marissa the way he looks at you. He told you about Marissa, right?"
"A little. I know they were engaged."
"I never liked her. None of us did, but we didn't say much to Nash about it because we were trying to be supportive. Thank God he didn't end up with her. You're so much better." His grin reappears. "Anyway, I just wanted to say that. Don't tell Nash. He'll kick my ass."
Aus
tin leaves before I can say anything, although I don't know what I'd say. Nash has made it clear he wants to date me, but that's too much of a commitment. We need to keep this casual. We can be friends who make out, or do more than that, but not friends who tell each other everything. I can't get too close to him. If I do, it'll be that much harder when he leaves.
Nash walks in. Unlike his brothers, he doesn't announce himself. He just walks right into the kitchen to fill his cup with ice. He acts like he lives here. It bothered me when he did this when I first met him, but now I kind of like it.
"What are you up to?" he asks, stopping to give me a kiss. Somehow our relationship went from talking and flirting to kissing whenever he sees me. How did that happen? I'm not sure, but I don't mind it.
"I'm just cleaning the house." I reach down and dust the coffee table. It doesn't really need it but I dust it anyway.
"Is this a good book?"
I glance over and see Nash holding Greg's book. It hasn't been moved since the day they died.
Before I can even think, I scream, "Put it down!"
He's too startled to move, looking at me like I'm crazy. Maybe I am, but I don't want him touching that book.
"Put it down!" I scream again, shaking a little.
He drops the book on the table. "Why are you screaming?"
I move the book so that it's exactly how it was before, slightly angled toward the couch.
Nash sets his cup of ice on the coffee table. "Callie, what's going on?"
"Nothing." I take some breaths, hoping to appear normal, but knowing that's shot to hell after what he just witnessed. "Go outside. I need to finish cleaning."
"Why did you scream at me for picking up that book?"
"Because I didn't want you touching it." I go back to dusting, making small circles over the wood in short, fast movements, while he stands there, watching me. "It's not your book, and you shouldn't touch things that aren't yours. It's bad manners. You should ask before touching people's stuff."
"Sorry. I didn't know. I'll ask next time, okay?"
I nod, and go over to dust the TV and the table it's sitting on.
Nash comes up behind me and I tense up, worried he's going to keep questioning me about why I acted that way. But instead he says, "Austin mentioned something about you making lunch, but we're just going to go out."
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