by Bella Jewel
“I can imagine,” I say, giving her a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure it’ll work out. You can’t stay just because of the drama that would follow if you left.”
She sighs. “Did you see that magazine report a few days ago?”
I did see it.
An article of her and some caption about the town’s local millionaire’s wife not living in the same house, and is their marriage over? I didn’t read it. I didn’t need to. It’s trash. Still, people love that kind of gossip. Pat is young, he’s good looking, and he’s rich. It’s not going to be easy for Jo to walk away without anyone bothering her. Not to mention all the media shit that will come with it.
I feel for her, I really do.
“I did see it,” I answer her question. “Just tell Pat that if he causes any problems when you leave, you’ll tell the media about his bed farts.”
Jo giggles. “God, can you imagine?”
We both laugh. Making light of a troubling subject.
“So, I think we should go outside and you should call Chase,” Jo says, after eating in silence for a few minutes. “I think it’s time to find out what he knows.”
“What do I say to him?” I ask, pursing my lips. “If I stuff it up, he’ll know I don’t know anything and can just as easily block me.”
“I think you just tell him you know what he did to Celia, and you know that she ended he life because of him, and if he doesn’t come forward, you’ll tell the media.”
I raise my brows. “That’s brutal, Jo.”
She shrugs, her face hard. “Him letting you get locked up was brutal, Callie. This is justice.”
Ouch.
But she’s right.
I exhale. “It’s a risk.”
“Everything is.”
She’s right about that. Everything is.
“Okay, let’s do this.”
We finish our dinner and our wine, and then we pay and head outside. We walk down the street a little, and I’m feeling more than a bit tipsy. We find a quiet area of the street and I pull out my phone, dialing Chase’s number. Then I glance at Jo as I put the phone on speaker phone. Here goes nothing.
It rings a few times, and part of me, a tiny little part, hopes he won’t answer.
Facing this, uncovering this hell, it’s going to bring forward a lot of pain, for everyone.
It has to be done, but that doesn’t make it easy.
“Hello?”
A croaky, sleepy, male voice comes across the other line and, for a few moments, my heart races so hard I can’t find my voice.
I take a deep, shaky breath and say, “Chase?”
Dead silence.
I look to Jo, and she nods for me to keep going.
“I know it’s Chase.”
“Who is this?” he asks, his voice a little more awake now.
“It doesn’t matter who it is. We need to talk. We can make this easy, or hard, but if you hang up, it’ll be hard.”
“What do you want?” he demands, angry now.
“I want the truth,” I say, my voice a little more confident now. “I know what you did to Celia Yates. I know what happened.”
He goes silent again.
“How did you get this number?”
“That’s irrelevant. What matters is what you’re going to do with this information. I want you to come forward, I want you to tell your family and her family what you have done. If you do, I won’t go to the police ...”
It’s a risk, throwing the police in, because I don’t actually know what he did, but either way, I’m playing this card, because it’s the only one I have.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, low.
“But you do, Chase. I have proof, if you’d like to see it. I have Celia’s test results. I have emails and I have text messages. I know what you did.”
I hold my breath.
I hold it so tightly I feel like I’m going to pass out.
He’s either going to call me out, or I might just get away with this.
“I never meant to hurt her,” he says, his voice pained. That hurts, I won’t lie. I don’t think Chase ever meant any harm, but regardless, he is the reason she is gone. At least, I think he is. “I didn’t mean to get in so deep. I wanted to give her nice things. I was making money from the drugs, and I screwed up. I owed them and ... I didn’t think they’d take it out on her. I didn’t think they’d hurt her. I couldn’t stop them, the drugged me and made me watch. I couldn’t. It wasn’t my fault.”
Couldn’t stop them?
Who is them?
What did they do to her?
“She got HIV from it!” I accuse. “She took her own life because she couldn’t go on! It is your fault, Chase. It is!”
That’s the only tiny piece of information I have, but I’m going to use it.
“I never meant for it to happen!” he yells. “I never meant for her to get hurt. I tried to stop them. I tried.”
“Not hard enough.”
“Who are you?” he yells. “Who the hell are you? Why are you doing this?”
“I’m the girl you let go to prison for her death.”
He goes silent.
Then the phone line goes dead.
“Chase?” I scream.
I pull the phone away from my ear and dial the number again. It rings a few times then hangs up. When I try again, it’s blocked.
“No,” I yell, throwing my phone to the ground. “No, dammit. No!”
God dammit.
No.
7
“IT’S OKAY,” JO SAYS as we stand on the street after having tried to call Chase back a million times even though I know he blocked me. She even tried on her phone, but he blocked that, too.
My only lead. Gone. He’s not going to answer any calls now, no matter who they’re from. The only person who would get through is Tatum, and getting his phone would be like pulling teeth out of an angry lion.
We’re screwed.
“We’ll find him,” she continues.
I look to her, my head spinning. Being tipsy isn’t helping, my thoughts are running wild. “I have to pop into the café, I left my house key in there. I’m going to go and get it, then come home, okay?” I tell Jo.
“Isn’t the café close?” she asks me, looking concerned.
“I’m opening tomorrow, I have the key.”
She raises her brows. “Andrea gave you the key?”
“Well, she gives it to all the staff, so if she doesn’t give it to me, it’s going to look suspicious, isn’t it?”
Jo nods. “Are you sure you’re okay? I have our apartment key. You don’t need yours. We can go home and talk ...”
I shake my head. “I just need to clear my head. It’s okay. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you at home.”
“Are you sure, honey ...”
I smile and step forward, hugging her. When I let go, I say, “I’m sure. I need to take a walk.”
She exhales. “We’ll find Chase, I promise you we’ll find him.”
I nod and then turn and walk off, the weight in my chest making me feel like I’m dragging my body. It hurts. Everything hurts. I want to scream, and yell, and punch something. I’m so angry, so hurt, and so sick of lies. I want to grab Tanner and scream into his face, I want to slap Ethan over and over again, and, at the same time, I want to curl into a ball and just cry because it all makes me feel so damned helpless.
I walk a few blocks, to clear my head a little, the cool night air helping me think more clearly. Then I flag down a cab and give them directions to the café. When I arrive, I pay the cab driver and step out, feeling a little tipsy still as my heels hit the sidewalk. My head is swarmy, not drunk but definitely not as clear as it should be.
I walk toward the café, digging around in my purse for the keys. When I curl my fingers around them, I look up and see the lights on inside. I stop, squinting, and I see Ethan and Andrea talking. I blink a few times, and then step a little closer. They’re standing at the
counter, clearly arguing about something. Oh, god. Ethan is here. With Andrea.
I step back into the shadows of the trees lining the sidewalk and then move down closer to the café before ducking around the back. There’s a good chance I’ll get busted for what I’m about to do, but I want to hear what they’re saying, and the only way I can do that is to go through the back door, through the kitchen, and listen.
I carefully unlock the back door, step inside, and, very slowly, walk through the kitchen and try not to make a sound. I reach the door and press my ear against it. I can hear them, being that the counter is so close to the kitchen.
“It has to stop, Andrea,” Ethan growls. “If it doesn’t, someone is going to get hurt.”
“You think I don’t know that, Ethan?” Andrea snaps. “But Tanner is determined, and he’s not ready to back down anytime soon. Maybe he just needs to do this, to get it out of his system ...”
“To do what? Torment Callie for something he can’t let go of? Where will it end? How far will it go? She could get hurt. I’m not going to sit back and watch that happen.”
“What other option is there? You were in on this, too. Now you’ve gone soft and want to call it quits, but you know it’s not that easy. You can’t just change your mind because you have fallen in love with her.”
“I’m not in love with her,” Ethan rasps, low, “but she matters to me.”
“She didn’t matter to you when you were setting those girls in the prison onto her, Ethan. How do you think she would feel if she found that out?”
My heart explodes.
Pain, so much pain.
I make a wounded sound deep in my throat and grasp at my chest, which feels like it’s going to bring me to my knees.
Ethan was behind Trisha?
No.
It’s not possible.
It isn’t.
No.
“Don’t,” Ethan warns. “Do not. I know what I’ve done, but I refuse to be part of this any further. You need to stop. I believe her, Andrea. I also think there is more to this than even we know. She’s going to find that out, and when she does, she’s going to bring all of you down.”
Andrea goes silent for a minute, then exhales. “Yes, so do I, but we all made this choice, we can’t just back away from it now. Tanner will lose his mind, and that is when something bad will happen.”
“I’m not going to let him keep doing this.”
“You haven’t got much choice. You try to stop him, or you go to the police, we all go down. Is that what you really want? To lose everything?”
Ethan curses under his breath. “I’m leaving. I can’t deal with this much more. Tell Tanner to back off, or I will do something about it. No matter the risk.”
I hear Ethan’s footsteps go toward the front door, and I turn, rushing out. I’m so angry I can’t think. So hurt, I can’t breathe. I lock the door when I leave, and then I rush around to the front of the café, still out of sight. I see Ethan walking off down the street toward his car. I go after him. Risking it all and not caring.
I can’t.
I just can’t do this anymore.
Hearing my footsteps approaching, Ethan turns.
When his eyes fall on me, his mouth opens, and he begins to say my name, “Call—”
I reach him and slap him. I slap him so hard his head swings to the side and the sound echoes through the still night. Then I slap him again, harder this time, so angry my whole body is thrown into the movement.
“How could you?” I scream, shoving his chest, over and over. “How could you do this to me? How could you pretend to be my friend all this time when all along I was just part of some sick, twisted game you were all playing with me?”
“Callie,” Ethan tries, but tears are rolling down my cheeks, and I’m not done.
“Don’t!” I cry, throwing a hand up. “You let Trisha hurt me. You let her attack me and make my life hell.”
“I let her get to you once,” he defends himself. “Once, and then I couldn’t do it. I did protect you, that wasn’t a lie.”
“Everything is a lie!” I scream. “Everything about you is a lie!”
“Callie, please ...”
“I trusted you, Ethan,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “I trusted you more than anyone else in my world. You were my best friend. You kept me sane. How could you?”
I turn on shaky legs and start walking away, my body heaving with sobs as I cross the road. I hear him call my name, but I don’t stop.
I just keep walking until I can’t see him anymore.
Until I can’t feel the pain in my chest anymore.
Until I can’t do anything but numbly put one foot in front of the other.
How much more can I possibly take?
SOMEONE BANGS ON MY door.
I press pause on the Hot Pocket in the microwave and listen for a moment. My stomach grumbles and my heart aches, a combination that calls for serious overeating. The knock sounds again.
Great.
It’s likely Ethan, considering I just abused him, slapped him, confessed that I know, and ran.
I probably screwed up telling him, but I don’t care.
I couldn’t hold it in any longer.
I proceeded to come home, drink more, and now I’m eating to make things all that much worse. I know I shouldn’t, that I should probably do something productive, like write in a journal or something. Eating seems like a better idea right now, though.
Exhaling, I ignore the knock, knowing it’s not Jo because she’s in bed asleep, and anyone else isn’t worth seeing. There isn’t one other person right now that I’d actually want to see outside of these walls. Not my family, not Tanner’s family, no one. I have all I need right here, which is incredibly sad, if you ask me.
“Callie, I know you’re home.”
Tanner’s thick, husky voice radiates through the door, touching my skin and making it prickle. Damn him for still having that effect on me. Sometimes, when it hurts really bad, all I want is to curl up in his arms and feel the way his strong body encloses mine. Then I remember he’s the reason for my pain, and it just makes it hurt even more.
“Not leavin’ until you open the door.”
Fuck.
I walk over, alcohol giving me far more courage than I actually have. Maybe Ethan told him I know. Maybe he’s here to confront me.
Bring it on, I say.
Bring it the fuck on.
I swing the front door open and am faced with a very rugged, very drunk, very gorgeous Tanner Yates.
He stares at me, his eyes glassy, his hand resting on the door to help support that big body.
Why is he here?
“What do you want, Tanner?”
My voice is snippy and short. Do I care? Absolutely not.
He tips his head to the side. “How can you be so beautiful?” he murmurs. “I hate that you are so fuckin’ beautiful.”
God.
Why does he have to go ahead and say things like that? Things that make my heart ache. Things that confuse me even more than I already am. Things that make me wish, for a single second, that things were different.
“You’re drunk.”
“Tipsy,” he corrects, with a wave of his finger.
I roll my eyes. “Drunk. Why are you here?”
“I wanted to see you.”
A not so subtle snort leaves my lip. “I’m not entirely sure why.”
Considering you’re a sociopath currently trying to ruin my life.
“Me either,” he says, his voice low. “I shouldn’t be here, but there is something about you ...”
“Go home, Tanner,” I say, my voice tired, my body sore, my heart broken. “Please.”
I go to close the door, but he stops it with his hand. “Tell me something about you, Callie. Tell me something nobody else knows.”
I lean in close, smelling the beer on his breath, loving the way it tickles my face. Then hating myself for loving it. A range of emotions in a matter o
f seconds. “I’m not a liar,” I whisper.
His eyes flash with a strange emotion, and then he says, “So you say. Tell me something else.”
“You are.”
I push the door, but he stops it again, narrowing his eyes. “What did you say?”
“Go home, Tanner.”
“I’m not goin’ home.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
I exhale and rub my hands over my face. “I have enough going on without you being here. Please, leave.”
“I shouldn’t be here,” he says, leaning his big body against the door. “So, tell me why the fuck I can’t stay away?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.
He steps closer. I don’t move back, even though I know I should. I know I should move and shut the door and never look at Tanner Yates again unless I have to, and yet I can’t seem to get my legs to agree on that. I stand firmly in the spot I’m in.
“It’s complicated,” he tells me, his voice slightly slurred. “It’s so fuckin’ complicated. Wish I could make sense of the fuckin’ mess in my head.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tanner,” I say again. “You need to go.”
“What if I don’t want to go?” he asks, holding my eyes, making my tummy do a silly little flip flop. “What if I just want to stay here and forget everything else in the world? What if that’s all I fuckin’ want? What if you’re all I fuckin’ want?”
“You can’t have everything you want,” I whisper.
He steps closer, reaching up and curling his hand behind my neck. “You think I haven’t learned that by now, Callie? You think I don’t know that life is a big fuckin’ mess and never works out how you want it?”
“I don’t know what you’ve learned, I don’t know a single thing about you, Tanner. You’re a mystery. You’re a lie.”
He tips his head to the side. “Aren’t we all?”
“Please,” I beg, my voice shaky. “Please leave.”
“It’s so fuckin’ hard to stay away from you. I try, I fuckin’ try, but there is somethin’ about you ...”
He’s killing me.
Because I’m so conflicted.
A huge part of me hates him and, yet, when he’s here, touching me, saying things like that, another part of me becomes confused and I don’t know how to react. I don’t know how to think or how to feel. I hate it. I hate that he somehow has this effect on me, when all I want is for him to just leave, to forget about me, to stop tormenting me with these little mind games.