It means nothing.
I repeated it to myself over and over and over, until the sunrise filtered into the room.
The creak of the lowest stair stole my attention. I looked up to see Cal walk into the living room with his shoes in one hand. He’d pulled on his shirt but hadn’t closed the buttons. The waistband of his jeans was undone and the denim draped down his long legs.
Of course he’d have the gall to look sexy. The bastard.
“I meant to leave.” He yawned. “Didn’t realize how tired I was.”
“It’s fine,” I lied.
He raked a hand through his hair and sat on the opposite end of the couch, leaning forward to pull on his shoes. “You didn’t run me out of your house. And you haven’t tried to run me out of town in a while. What gives?”
I shrugged. My make-Cal’s-life-agony plan had fizzled early on. “I don’t like doing mean things. I don’t like feeling guilty.”
“Because you’re not an asshole.”
“You drew that straw in high school, remember? You’re the asshole. I’m the smart one.”
He chuckled. “True.”
“What about you?” I asked. “You haven’t tried to make my life miserable. Don’t you want me to leave Calamity?”
He stared at the TV, his shoulders falling. “I don’t know what I want, Nell.”
This man was killing me. I had to fight myself to stay on my end of the couch and not hug the jerk.
His phone rang and he shifted to dig it out of his pocket. He took in the screen, then blew out a long breath before answering. “Hi, Mom.”
There was a cheerful voice on the other end of the call, though I couldn’t make out her words.
“No, it’s fine. I was awake.” There was a softness to his voice, a tone I’d only heard him use with Elias. And now his mother. “Yeah, getting ready for a workout. What’s up?”
He frowned as she spoke, shaking his head. “I already told him no.”
Told who? Wade? Was this about the commentator job with ESPN?
“Yeah, I get that it’s important to Dad. But like I told you yesterday, Benton is going to have to find someone else.”
Benton. What was happening at Benton?
“Look, Mom. I’d better let you go. Talk soon, okay? Love you.” He ended the call and glanced over. “They’re having some fundraiser shit at the school. They wanted someone to speak to the donors. I haven’t talked to my father directly in years, but without asking, he pitched my name to the dean. Had Mom tell me. Guess he thought she’d be able to convince me to do it.”
“Oh.” I wouldn’t want to talk to those stuffy alums either, but that was Cal’s crowd. At least, it had been. Apparently, it was still his father’s. “You haven’t talked to your dad in years?”
“No.” He shook his head. “The piece of shit talks about me. Brags to his friends. But he doesn’t contact me, and I sure as hell don’t contact him.”
Wait. Piece of shit? In high school, Cal had told me the problems he had with his dad. But I’d assumed those had passed as he’d gotten older. That they’d eventually bonded over extreme wealth and arrogance.
“This will sound strange,” I said. “But I like you more if you dislike your father.”
He huffed a laugh. “Figured you would.”
“And your mom? Are you close?”
“As close as we can be. I love her. I’ll do whatever I can for her. But she’s chosen him. And until he’s out of the picture, we’ll always have that strain between us.”
I couldn’t imagine not having a loving relationship with both my mother and father. I couldn’t imagine how it would feel to take sides. If I was having a bad day, Dad was my first phone call. If he didn’t answer, I went straight to Mom. And the older I got, the closer we became.
They weren’t just my family, they were my friends too. I genuinely enjoyed every minute we spent together.
What had Cal done on his trips home to Denver? Where did he go for the holidays? Granted, during the football season, he’d usually had games. But what about now that he was retired?
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That must be sort of lonely.”
“It’s not as lonely in Calamity.”
Because he had Pierce, Kerrigan and their kids. He was as much a part of their extended family as I was.
And for weeks, I’d been ordering him to leave.
Except where else did he have to go?
That familiar guilt began creeping through my limbs, making me squirm in my seat. There were feelings here, besides the guilt. Besides the lust. And they churned my insides into a tornado.
If I wasn’t careful, he’d destroy me. And I’d vowed a long time ago to never let Cal Stark win.
“I’d better get out of here.” He stood from the couch and walked to the door. “Thanks for the good time. I’ll see you soon.”
“Cal,” I called as he twisted the knob. “Not soon. I, um . . . I need some time. Some distance.”
The guard he’d dropped last night came slamming down over his face. His jaw clenched. “You got it, Blondie.”
I flinched as he slammed the door behind him. It didn’t matter if he was mad. It had to be this way. I’d learned a long time ago not to trust Cal.
That was never going to change.
-
Hey Diary,
* * *
Cal was nice to me today. For like five minutes, he was not Satan’s spawn. I was walking to biology from English and the bottom of my backpack broke open. It wasn’t even the strap I had duct-taped. Seriously the thing is a piece of crap. I knew I should have bought a new bag instead of spending my extra money on this padded bra. But hey, the nipple comments aren’t coming as often. Winner. （That’s sarcasm, in case you couldn’t tell.） So anyway, my bag broke and all of my books flew out in the middle of the hallway. No one stopped to help me pick them up. Shocker. （More sarcasm for you.） Someone kicked my history book and sent it flying down the hall. The spine is broken now. If it would have happened at any other break, I would have at least had Sareena there to help. We’ve been trying to stick together more. Power in numbers, you know? They pick on her when she’s alone just like they tease me. Anyway, Cal stopped. He actually stopped. I thought I was going to die of shock for a minute when he handed me my bio book and didn’t like, throw it at my face or something. He sort of smiled at me too. Cue me almost falling on my butt. I totally froze. I just stared at him as he stacked my books. For a split second, he was that guy who’d kissed me. And stupid, stupid me, I fell for it. He even walked with me to English, like I was this real person, not some random who sits in the front row and actually reads our Shakespeare assignments. He could have just walked in and sat down. He could have just left me to pick up my books alone and continued pretending like I was a nobody. Instead he walked through the door and told Mr. Robinson, loud enough that everyone could hear, that he had to help the scholarship kid because she can’t afford a decent backpack. The whole class laughed. Because that’s all I am to them. Poor. Have I mentioned that I hate Cal Stark? Yeah. Still do. He’s such an asshole.