Call You Mine

by Claudia Burgoa

  While they were wheeling her in the ambulance, my grandparents were taking us into their house where we stayed for a long time. It was less than a month, but still, it felt like years. Seth and I never left each other’s sights.

  We love our grandfathers, but no matter what they said or did to keep us entertained, we were afraid to lose Mom. I still remember Grandpa Chris and Grandpa Gabe assuring us that they were fine. I also remember listening to the adult conversations where they said they had no idea if Mom would make it this time. I learned then that she was sick when I was born too.

  My grandparents, uncles, aunts, and Beacon’s family tried their best to care for us. We never complained. But everything was so strange. We went from having a house, a mom, and a dad to going from one home to another without understanding what was happening. We only knew that my parents were gone. I behaved because what if they got tired of taking care of Seth and me?

  I cried every night because I thought I had lost my parents just like Beacon did—or worse, what if they were dead?

  Mom came back with a tiny baby who I adored. I had my parents back, but it was hard to go to sleep. I would stay up all night watching them, making sure they wouldn’t leave. They sent me to therapy to help with the trauma. I didn’t lose them, but it felt like a loss.

  When Dad said, “I can’t just do nothing, Grace. I can’t lose you. Do you know how many times I’ve been close to losing my family? Several. I lost one kid. Almost lost you and Nathan. I can’t take any chances.”

  My parents lost their first child, James, before he was born. He’d be thirty-five this year.

  I was nine when I ended up in the ICU at the local children’s hospital due to diabetic ketoacidosis. You’d think that because Mom has type 1 diabetes too, they would’ve caught it in time. It wasn’t their fault. I have a tendency to keep any pain or struggles to myself. I never told them I wasn’t feeling well. It’s part of not upsetting my parents, who already had dealt with a lot.

  Needless to say, they figured out something was wrong with me when they found me lying on the floor, pale and unresponsive. It’ll be unreasonable and maybe even selfish of me to invalidate his fears. It’s true, it’d kill him, losing one of us. That doesn’t make him right, either. He should’ve handled this situation differently.

  “You’ll understand when you have your own children,” he said.

  “Maybe you’ll never find out,” I answered and hung up the phone.

  I stare at the food that Lang brought. I have to eat, but I’m not hungry. While I’m debating, my phone rings. It’s Mom.

  Instead of greeting her, I say, “You knew?” with an accusatory voice.

  She sighs.

  “Of course, you did.” I groan. “I can’t believe you sided with him. Neither one of you trust me enough to let me be on my own.”

  “It’s not like that, Grace,” she argues.

  But it is like that.

  “I feel like all the concessions were just a farce. Seth doesn’t have a bodyguard. Nathan doesn’t have one either. But I do because I’m the girl. A fragile one for that matter.”

  “No, you’re our little miracle, Grace,” she says. “After James, we didn’t know if I’d be able to have children. You gave us hope. Your dad has tried his best to include you in everything. We hated the idea of letting you go to college so young.”

  “Instead, he sent me with bodyguards. Dad used my best friend as my shield,” I snap. “He could’ve at least told me. He didn’t trust me.”

  “He wanted it to feel normal. Beacon’s idea of having your friends watch over you sounded good at the time,” she continued. “I hate when your dad uses you as bait. It kills me knowing that either one of my children is part of some dangerous mission. He doesn’t have an issue with that. That’s how his brain works, Grace. Mason trusts you enough to let you do it. He knows you’re capable, just like him.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. It is like you’re telling me that he’s afraid of me being in the real world.”

  “That’s where people get hurt the most,” she answers.

  “Don’t justify his actions.”

  “I’m not invalidating either one of you. You are right. He should’ve trusted you. I just want to make sure that you know that this is his way of saying you’re our little girl, and we can’t lose you.”

  We’re both quiet for a long time. “This should be the part of the conversation where you tell me you know someone who had a big fight with her parents and regretted not speaking to them in years.”

  “You know that I do.” She sighs. “Whatever I say might not be enough. Just remember that you’ll regret all the time you missed being around your family.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “What you told him when you hung up the phone.” Her voice is loud. “You’re cutting ties with us?”

  “Ugh…No, I don’t even know if I’m going to have children. I just need time,” I protest, quite sure that Dad told her what I said, and she blew it out of proportion. “I know your family tends to be a bit dramatic. I’m more practical, like Dad, in that regard.”

  Grandpa Gabe is an actor. I swear some of my cousins crank up the drama so high they are a walking soap opera.

  “He’s concerned.”

  “Tell him,” I pause because I can’t say anything to make him feel better when I’m still so mad, “that I need time to cool down.”

  “I love you, Gracie.”

  “Love you too, Mom.”

  My options are to stay and brood in a strange house or go to my friends’ place.

  Grace: Where are you?

  Mane: At Beac’s

  Grace: Ugh. Why not at your place?

  Mane: Because we don’t have a cool game room or food at our place. Come over.

  Grace: I’d rather not.

  Mane: Are you going to start making things weird for us? Don’t be a Lang.

  I laugh when I read the text. He’s right. Lang is the dramatic one of us.

  Grace: Fine. I’m on my way.

  It’s not like I have many places to go to at this time of the day in this small town.

  I could gather the Aldridge wives. They are surprisingly good listeners, except they can’t listen to what I have to say.

  So, my father had a bodyguard babysitting me for eleven years. By the way, your brother-in-law is a secret agent for…Nope, I can’t say that.

  I can be a mature adult. Things won’t be awkward. I change my clothes before I make my way to the Aldridge place. The evening is chilly, slightly dark, and quiet. There are a few stores still open. Unfortunately, the bookstore is closed. I could use a book or two.

  They have old editions of books, handmade jewelry, and some souvenirs. Grandpa Bradley loves when I send him something from wherever I visit. I’m staring at the window of the bookstore when I feel Beacon’s presence. I should’ve known he’d come to find me.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” he greets me when he’s just a few steps away from me.

  I turn to look at him.

  Hey…I don’t know what to call him. Idiot, Beac, gorgeous man?

  I recognize that I feel so much better just by being in his presence. His devastatingly handsome face is all I need to relax after the conversation with Dad.

  It’s hard to admit how much I need him.

  His green eyes are bright yet worried. He opens his arms. The corners of his lips stretch toward the sky. I adore that smile. It’s one of my favorites. This is his “everything will be all right” smile. And you know what, he ensures that things work out for me. It’s crazy that this enrages me a little. I’m sure it doesn’t make sense that I love so many things about him—and I hate them too. The one thing that upsets me the most is that I can’t be mad at him for long.

  “I hate you,” I mumble, walking into his warm embrace.

  “I know,” he answers, holding me tight.

  “This doesn’t mean I’m not upset,” I continue, but I break down in seconds.

&
nbsp; It’s so hard not to cry. The emotions inside me are too strong to ignore. I shed angry tears, sad tears, even a few happy tears. Thinking about the eleven years of lies infuriates me. What enrages me the most is that I can’t just be emotional and say fuck you to Dad and Beacon. I wish…I don’t even know what I want.

  “Dad should’ve trusted me,” I say between sobs.

  “Let’s go to my place,” he offers. “Did you eat?”

  “Not yet.”

  He grunts. “G, you know what can happen if you skip a meal.”

  I want to yell at him for reminding me that my body is fragile. When can it be my turn to be irrational and not care about the consequences?

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Grace

  Holding hands, we walk to the restaurant one more time, where the manager is outside waiting for us with a takeout bag. When we arrive at Beacon’s place, I realize that it’s empty.

  “Where is everyone?”

  “The guys left to give us space.”

  I want to argue that I wanted to be with them, but I don’t. The truth is that I just need Beacon right now. We eat in silence. Once we finish, we go to the studio. The box with the new cello is already there, waiting to be opened, but I’m not ready for it.

  “I wish you had a gym.”

  “We do,” he says. “Who do you want to punch first, him or me?”

  I snort as I take a seat on the stool and caress the piano’s keys. “I wanted him to yell at me the way he does at Nathan when they’re fighting about my brother’s indecisions. The way he does at you when you get in his face and defy him.”

  Beacon raises an eyebrow. “He didn’t?”

  “Nope. He used that firm voice I hate. The worst part is he’s right, even when he’s wrong. He can’t help himself because what if he loses me? I remember how sad he was when Mom and Nathan were still delicate after my brother was born. He wouldn’t move from the hospital when I ended up in the ICU.”

  I pause and look at Beacon. “Why do I have to be so rational?”

  “It’s part of your beauty.”

  I snort. “That’s such a lie.”

  “No. It’s refreshing to be with someone who makes sense in a world where everything is chaos.” He waves his hands fast. “There’s this crazy cyclone in my mind all the time. When you’re around, you’re the anchor who grounds me. My grandparents never understood why I could be so calm when you were nearby.”

  “I like your chaos.” I curl my index finger, calling him to me, and pat the empty space beside me. “It creates some of the best songs in the world.”

  He smiles, taking a seat right next to me. “You’re the only one who understands it.”

  “Sometimes, you only need one person to appreciate you for who you really are, Beac,” I say, resting my head on his shoulder.

  When I say that, I feel like there’s a deeper meaning within those words. A lot more emotions are involved. Emotions I don’t want to analyze because what if I can’t handle them?

  I understand why he did it, but can I trust him?

  Who am I supposed to trust?

  My best friend, my bodyguard, or the guy who swears he’s been in love with me for years.

  Head exploding in five, four, three—

  “I’m not sure when I’ll get past this. I should go back home.”

  “You’re giving up on us already?” The tone in his voice breaks my heart. “At least, give me a fair trial.”

  “It’d be best if we—”

  He huffs. “Too many emotions?” He shakes his head. “We’ll deal with them together. You’re not doing this alone. I’m not leaving you hanging. Sometimes I think that I’m responsible for that part of your personality. The one that would rather not deal with feelings.”

  “I kept telling myself that what I felt for you was only a crush,” I mumble. Maybe I should confess to him it was more than a crush. “Eventually, I got over it.”

  I think?

  “It feels like eleven years of lies that we told to each other, to ourselves, and what am I supposed to do now? Trust you blindly?” I slam my hands on the piano, closing my eyes and confessing, “I loved you so much, and you broke my heart.”

  He exhales harshly at the same time that I gasp in surprise. This is the first time I admit openly that I was in love with him. That it hurt when he called it off.

  “I had no idea,” he says, standing up from his seat. He walks back and forth. “If I had known—but you wouldn’t have admitted it, would you?”

  “What does that even mean?” I argue.

  “You never tell people how you feel, Grace!” His voice echoes through the studio. “You didn’t stop me.”

  “Because what if what happened to Mom and her first love happened to us? They were best friends…” I stop for a second, trying to remember if she ever told me about her relationship with that guy. She didn’t. I don’t even know his name. “I think.”

  He groans. “Of course, it was your mom and her fables.”

  I could argue about Mom, but the part that’s making me furious is that he said I never tell people how I feel. “Are you calling me frigid? Emotionless? What is it that you implied by I never tell people how I feel?”

  I’m so mad. I stand up and walk toward him. My chin tilts up, and I dare him to tell me the truth. “Is that what you think about me? That I’m devoid of emotions?”

  The way his eyes transform takes my breath away. They darken with anger and need. He lifts me by the waist, pushes me against the wall, and presses his body against mine. Our noses almost touch. I can feel his shallow breath caressing my face.

  “No, you confine all your feelings inside your music,” he says, nipping my ear. “I know your soul, your heart. I feel your music—every note. That’s the only way you handle them. This mess is my fault, but you are responsible too. If you had told me…”

  I shiver as his teeth pull my earlobe gently. “There’s no point in discussing the shit that went wrong between us. It’s killing me to know that I broke your heart. If it makes you feel any better, I broke mine too.”

  Who do we blame for this?

  My father, the circumstances, or our ages. Maybe we were too young, inexperienced, and afraid.

  We’re usually pretty daring.

  He’s bold, courageous, and spirited.

  I’m not as audacious as him, though. He’s one of the few crazy people I know who’d walk toward open fire to catch the bad guys. Our biggest fear is to lose each other.

  “What now?”

  “Don’t leave,” he begs me. “I need this time. You want to know why I was hammered for three days? I thought you had found the guy, and that was it. I had lost you forever.”

  He wouldn’t lose me. It takes me a second to realize what he’s saying. He’s not afraid of losing me as a friend. My heart is confused. I’m sad because he spent two days mourning a loss. Upset because he could’ve avoided it if we had talked—but it’s not that simple, is it?

  “So, what’s going to happen when your sabbatical is over? When you have to go back to your fans? When I go back to my life?”

  “I’ll quit everything that comes between us,” he assures me, slanting his mouth on top of mine, running his tongue along the seam, parting my lips. A spark ignites, starting a wildfire burning through us while we kiss deeply, passionately.

  “You are my life. Nothing else matters to me but you. Let me show you, Grace. Let me make up for what I did.”

  He kisses the center of my chest. “I’ll gather all the shattered pieces and put them together. I promise never to break it again.”

  Forgiveness is so complicated. I don’t think it’s going to happen instantly. I don’t even know who I have to forgive—or to blame. There’s my father, Beacon, the circumstances, and I’m the cause of my own pain.

  “I choose to stay and to grow,” I answer. “To learn from the circumstances that kept us apart while our hearts heal. Also, I’m staying because I made a commitment to Leyla
and your brothers.”

  “Thank you for never giving up on me, even when I always fuck up.”

  My heart hurts so much because this man always thinks that everything is his fault.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Grace

  “Why do you do that?”

  “Apologize?” he says.

  I glare at him. He’s infuriating when he pretends to be dense.

  “I—”

  Before he continues talking, we get interrupted by Dad’s ringtone. I silence it and focus my attention back on Beacon. It rings again.

  “You should take that.”

  “He can wait.”

  Beacon laughs. “Yeah, right. If you don’t answer now, he’s going to call me. If I ignore him, he’ll send whoever is closest to this location—or fly to us.”

  I sigh heavily because even when he’s right, it irritates me that Dad can’t just give me space. “Two hours isn’t enough time,” I say instead of greeting him.

  “To an extent it is,” he argues. “There have been times when I only have thirty seconds to dismantle a bomb or an entire place, city, or country could disappear. If I wait, thousands or millions of people could die.”

  “Drama doesn’t look good on you, sir,”

  “The point is,” he continues, “that I understand your anger, but you never asked me about my motives.”

  “You explained everything,” I remind him.

  “No, I told you I couldn’t afford to lose you. Then, you began to give me all the reasons why you loathe me. You think I’m misguided and overprotective, yes?”

  “Seriously, Dad, you’re ready to invalidate my feelings and tell me that I should be thankful for your services.”

  “You’re putting words in my mouth, Grace Aiko!”

  “Fine. Enlighten me, father.”

  “It’s a well-known fact that you’re Gabe and Chris’ granddaughter. We always try to ensure that you guys live a normal life, but there are some limits,” he explains. I stay quiet. “Most of your cousins have security—unless they are well trained.”