It feels like hours, and we’ve searched through almost every piece of furniture we can, and still we stand empty handed. Sweat dots along the back of my neck overexerting myself, but other than that the chill to the air keeps me comfortable.
We slowly make our way back to each other, him destroying everything he gets his hands on. Just like me, he wants to know, but I have a feeling he’ll never admit to it. His pride would never allow it.
“There has to be something here,” I say, desperately riffling through a set of Chester drawers.
My stomach is in knots, as I, again, come up with nothing. Shoving hard, I nearly scream in exasperation. My abrupt anger has Asher craning his neck from a pile of documents he’s been reading for the past ten minutes. His eyes search mine, but he says nothing. It’s like he can tell I’m almost to the point of breaking and he doesn’t want to do or say anything to push me over the edge.
We’ve been at this for fucking hours, with no respite. Turning, tossing, delving—we’ve torn this place apart with only a tattered armchair and a few chests left to go through. The chair, it can’t hold anything, but those two chests—I’m not holding my breath at finding anything in there, either.
“Maybe we should just go.” I exhale, trying to dismount my rising frustration. I need to keep calm, relax. That’s what the doctor told me to do until he released me to go back to school. Technically, I shouldn’t even be here, trying to find something that probably doesn’t even exist, but my curiosity is leading my actions.
“As bad as I hate to admit it, sweetheart, there’s nothing here.” Tears prick at the corner of my eyes, my exhaustion and vexation rising to a precipice. All it would take is one thing, just one, and I will not be responsible for the things I do.
There is only so much a person can take, and with everything that’s happened, all I wanted was some goddamn answers. Is that too much to ask? I’ve been living a life of pure hell for the last seven months. The only thing that has made it manageable has been the guys, but that’s purely been recently.
Kicking aside a few boxes next to me, I shuffle my way toward the tattered armchair. I spy the forlorn look on Asher’s face, and I know he’s trying to be sympathetic to my plight, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to kick him in the shin for it. I’m tired, irritated, and just over today in general.
Dropping with a huff, my entire world lights up in pain. “Ow, fuck!”
Agony encompasses my tail bone, causing a garbled sort of cry to force its way from my lips. Discomfort ricochets up my spine, and I can do nothing except fall forward onto the floor on my hands and knees, clutching my tailbone through the seat of my pants.
“Are you okay?” Asher jumps over a pile of boxes and makes his way over to me.
I mean mug him, caressing the injured part of my butt that’s still sending jolts up my back. “Does it look like I’m okay? That chair is a piece of shit with no cushion.”
He regards it with a critical eye, narrowing his eyes as if he can scare an inanimate object into death. I’d find it hilarious if I weren’t in so much pain.
“Why did Debra keep a piece of shit like that, anyway? It goes with absolutely nothing in the house, and to be quite honest, it’s an eyesore.” He barely shakes his head back and forth.
But then, something catches his attention, and he stops altogether. He shifts forward on his knees, delicately laying a hand on the cushion. I watch with bated breath as he pushes, but it doesn’t give. At all. It’s like the cushion has hardened over time, leaving behind an instrument of torture.
“Do you see that?” he whispers, and I don’t know why, but I whisper my “yes” in return.
When my tailbone tapers down into a dull ache, I test the waters and find I can sit on my butt as long as I tilt to one side. Scooting closer, I hesitantly bring my fingers up to run across the cloth alongside his, but instead of it being smooth and soft, it’s hard and clicks when I push too hard.
My mouth parts in shock as the cushion portion pops open, revealing a hidden cavern inside. My mind whirls with possibilities as Asher grabs the lid and forces it the rest of the way open.
However, what I find inside is nothing what I thought I would. It causes my stomach to revolt the breakfast I had this morning. I gasp. My entire skin pales, the blood draining from my face. Asher is as white as a ghost when his hand dips into the contents, pulling out a bunch of pictures, agreements, and contracts that make absolutely no sense.
Why does she have any of this?
Asher goes extremely quiet when he reads over the page in his hand. I can practically feel the anger and resentment leech off him in waves. I don’t want to know what it is, but I can’t help pressing forward with the need to understand. There was something in this house after all. I just don’t know what it is, but I can guess what it pertains to if the pictures are any reflection on the contents.
“Jess,” his voice is as cold as ice, cutting me to the bone.
“Y-Yes?” I ask, biting into my bottom lip so hard I taste hints of copper.
When he peers over at me, the look of horror on his face has me sliding away from him, my gut churning. He looks between me and the paper several times and even swallows hard at the contents. My breaking point is when I see the first hint of tears gathering in his eyes, giving it a glassy sheen. My own tears mirror his when he finally settles his gaze on me once more.
“I—” he stops, his mouth hanging open. Then he closes his eyes, takes a deep, calming breath, and reopens them. “I think Debra had something to do with it.”
My face blanks of emotion. “With what?”
He bites his lower lip, then his mouth fishes open as he tries to gasp for air, a single tear sliding down his face when he glances back toward the paper he’s holding. It’s like his entire world is ending and he’s desperately trying to grab at anything to keep from falling.
“Do I really have to spell it out for you, sweetheart?” He brings his eyes back to mine, more tears cascading down his handsome, rugged face. “She had something to do with your accident two years ago.”
CHAPTER 13
So, Callum didn’t come over to my house. He didn’t even show his face all weekend. There were no calls, texts, or even a piece of snail mail. Trust me, I would have gladly accepted it, even if it was a letter saying fuck you, because at least it’s something. Not like the radio silence that’s slowly eating away at my insides.
He hasn’t even been in contact with the guys, and that’s definitely not like him. Usually, they’re all on their phones constantly with each other, unless they’re in the same room. I can see the worry in all three of their faces whenever Callum’s name comes up.
You want to know the shitty part about it? Asher and I still haven’t told them what we did on Thursday. There just hasn’t been a good time to get it out there. Especially, not now with Callum ignoring us.
Even with what Asher and I are doing, I can tell that would be the least of their worries. According to them, Callum is not the type to ghost someone without valid reasoning. He’s been a little closed off and wary of them, yes, but he’s never outwardly shunned them.
My eyes scan the room, seeing the guys lying all over in various stages of undress. Ellis is half on my bed and half off, his shoulders, arms, and head turned upside down as he scrolls through his phone. Asher snuggles up to my side, but even still, every so often I can see his fingers twitch, like he wants to reach for his phone but doesn’t. Quinn—yeah, he’s just mean-mugging the window that looks out toward the gates of my father’s estate.
All are shirtless. All are wearing nothing more than boxers or jeans that settle precariously low on their muscular hips.
“Maybe someone should call and check up on him,” I say, and three gazes swing toward me. “He was supposed to go with me to my appointment in the morning, to see if they can release me early.”
Quinn scoffs. “I wouldn’t count on him making it, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I’ll take you.”
&nb
sp; That’s the whole point, though. Callum promised that he would be the one to take me. Yes, I know all this shit is going on with him, but a promise is a promise. I don’t take too kindly to them being broken. I also know Quinn would take me, because that’s just how he is. He pretends to be this brooding, hard-hearted man, but he’s nothing more than a cuddly teddy bear once you get to know him.
“It’s not your day tomorrow.” I frown at the tightness that enters his eyes.
“Well, it doesn’t look like it’s his, either. He’s too stuck up Alessandra’s ass.”
I sigh. “You and I both know he’d rather be here.”
We’re all silent for a beat. It’s hard to come to terms with it, knowing Callum isn’t just ghosting me, but he’s also shutting out his three best friends. That was never part of the plan, and to be honest, it pisses me off. Just because Callum has to do this doesn’t mean he gets to shuck his responsibilities as their friend.
I mull it over, hugging my arms tighter around Asher. He trails his fingers up and down the top of my thigh, but instead of it being a provocative gesture it’s sweet and innocent. It’s a sign he’s as lost in his thoughts as the rest of us.
It burns me up seeing them all so despondent, like they’ve lost their best friend and don’t know how to function regularly. In a way, I guess that’s true. Because anytime you see any of them, unless business drags them away, you see all four of them. They’ve never been apart longer than the few hours it takes to sleep, shower, eat, and return to school the next morning.
Quinn makes a sound of disgust in the back of his throat, then turns his attention away from me. He’s never outwardly this hostile, at least not anymore. It has my brow raising to my hairline. “Quinn, is there something wrong? You know, besides the obvious.”
I can tell he doesn’t want to say anything. His features pinch in pain, and he stays mute as he turns his attention away from me and peers out through the window. But I know him. Probably better than I know myself. Something is bothering him more than the mere absence of Callum, and I hate to think of what it could be. It takes a lot to ruffle Quinn’s feathers. Trust me, I’ve tried.
So, whatever this is, it has to be eating away at the very core of his soul.
His eyes catch on mine, face softening instantly. “No, sweetheart. It’s all good.”
For the first time, I don’t believe him. Quinn usually isn’t the type to beat around the bush or make excuses—he’s the type to lay it all out there, whether or not the truth hurts. I wonder what has him in a tizzy, staring out into the vast landscape surrounding us. It’s like he’s here, but he’s not. Like he’s part of the problem, but also the solution.
“I’m going to call him.” I tap on Asher’s shoulder, smiling when he grunts in disapproval but moves, anyway.
Sitting up against the headboard, I roll my eyes but can’t stop the smile that comes to my face when Asher lies back down. He wraps an arm around my waist once more, digging his face into my side. He’s like a big cuddly teddy bear, I swear.
“You may not want to do that,” I hear Quinn say from the window. “Callum’s texted. He’s fine but said he didn’t want any disruptions. He said, and I quote, ‘I’m out of order.’”
Ellis pops up at that, swaying as his equilibrium rights itself once more. He scans the contours of Quinn’s face, then apparently sees something I don’t, because he goes from complacent to pissed in two seconds.
“Are you fucking serious right now?” he growls.
Okay … maybe I did miss something. My gaze flits between the both of them. It pokes at the knot that developed in my stomach the morning Quinn, Callum, and I were in the school parking lot. It’s an unease that slices me to the bone.
“Again. Is there something you want to tell me?” I grind out, steadily slipping faster and faster toward the end of my patience.
When Quinn says nothing, Ellis’ releases a bark of obscene laughter that nearly startles me out of my skin. It’s so different from the look in his eyes. But then again, when I listen closer, I can tell this is different, more sinister.
“Quinn, are you meaning what I think you’re implying?”
Quinn’s blank stare meets Ellis.’ “We both know the answer to that, E. He only says that when he’s going dark or he’s about to get laid—take your pick which one he’s about to do.”
“Get laid?” I inquire, my voice breaking. Callum wouldn’t do that, would he?
He would, I think to myself, because I told him to sell it. But I also told him to refrain from doing that, because it would hurt me beyond all compare.
Snatching up my phone, I quickly dial his number. All three of the guys try to stop me, but I mean mug them into submission. If he’s fucking around with that bitch, then I want to know about it. I also want to know the reason why. Because it better be a damn good one.
I know, rationally, it shouldn’t piss me off if he did anything with her. But let’s be real, if he does, I’m a woman, I’ll hold that shit over his head whenever we have a disagreement. And we will, I know we will. It’s like it’s embedded into our DNA to make our significant other’s live their faults repeatedly. I just hope he knows what is at stake between the five of us and doesn’t allow outside sources to force his hand.
I also know if Alessandra wanted him to, and he doesn’t, she will blab to his mother about him not paying her the proper attention she deserves. If that happens, he’ll be in a bigger barrel of trouble than he is now.
What is one supposed to do in this situation? When there are people from all sides trying to force your hand, but you know deep down you’ll hurt at least one person you don’t want to. I have a feeling we’re in this predicament now. I just wish I could get him out of it. Him and the others may be the cause of my pain, but I don’t have to be the cause of theirs. And right now, I am Callum’s pain. I am the reason he went back to her; the reason his mother is forcing his hand and making him date Alessandra.
Fuck, I hope he isn’t. He doesn’t have to sleep with her to date her. He doesn’t have to kiss her to be seen with her. He doesn’t even have to touch her. He knows this, and I hope he remembers it, too. Because his mother may dictate his life regarding whom he dates, but she doesn’t have a say in who he screws.
At least, I hope she doesn’t.
When it goes to voicemail, nausea churns in my gut. I pull the phone away from my ear, immediately hitting redial. It rings, and rings, and rings, but goes straight to voicemail once more. Almost frantically, I dial his number again. All three guys are watching me, but this time it doesn’t ring at all. It goes straight to voicemail.
“He’s ignoring my calls.” I pull the phone away from my ear, staring blankly at the screen as it goes dark on his name.
“Jess,” Quinn says, and I hear rustling as he gets up and makes his way over to me. When he sits down on the bed, I feel his fingers grab my chin, tilting my face up to his. I can’t even try to hide the tears dancing along the surface of my eyes even if I wanted to, and a mask of pain pinches between his. “We knew this would be a possibility. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
“He gave me his word, though. If I can’t believe that, then what should I believe.”
Before he can reply, my phone lights up in my hand. My heart stalls when I break my face away from Quinn’s hold to see Callum’s name and a goofy picture of us staring back at me. I should answer it, demanding to know if it’s true and where he is, but I know that’s not fair to him. He’s literally doing what Quinn and I told him to, and I’d be a hypocritical bitch if I berated him for it.
The phone goes silent for a split second before it lights up once more. This time, I peer up into Quinn’s eyes, seeing the harsh reality staring back at me. He hates this just as much as I do, only he’s much better at hiding it.
“You better answer that,” he says. “He won’t stop calling until you do.”
My bottom lip quivers. “What if he was just fucking her? I—After everything that’s happened between
the three of us—him, me, and her—I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle hearing him breathless or-or-or,” I stammer, growling as I bang my arms down on my crossed legs.
He lays his hand down on my knee, silencing me. “You’re strong, sweetheart. If you can get through everything you’ve been through, you can get through this.” He leans over, pressing his lips against mine in a quick peck.
My body fills with renewed vigor, but it takes everything in me to slide my finger across the screen, correcting my emotion laden voice, and speak to Callum as if nothing is wrong.
“Hey.”
“Are you okay?” he asks.
My eyes squeeze shut, silent tears breaking away from the surface of my lids to slide down my cheeks. Asher hugs me tighter, and I’m silently thankful for his anchor. Because if not for him, Quinn, or Ellis I feel as if I’d sink deeper and deeper into the darkness swirling inside me.
I clear my throat. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
He’s silent for a moment, then there’s rustling around in the background, like he’s going into another room. It proves my suspicions correct when I hear a door closing.
“Jess,” he whispers, like he’ll get caught if his voice is louder than the fluttering of a hummingbirds wing. “You don’t sound fine. Is everything okay?”
I can’t help it. I tried to hold it back, but a piece inside of me cracks. “Was she good?”
He chokes on something, probably his saliva, and coughs into the receiver. Before he can give me an excuse, I hear a knock, then clear as day, Alessandra’s grating, disgustingly sultry voice filter through the line.
“Come on, baby, we have things to do.”
I slap my hand over my mouth as a choked sob leaves my throat. Callum hurries to explain, but I disconnect the call before I can hear anything else. My chest feels like it’s caving in, just like it did that night. I feel a sense of betrayal that seeps all the way to the marrow deep inside me. It infects my heart, lungs—all of my organs.
Love Me, Baby: A High School Bully Romance (Silver Creek High Book 3) Page 9
