Trusting You: The Switched Series book two

by Bromley, Brittany

  Throwing the covers off my body I follow the ringing sound to the bathroom. Finally, my phone is found. Clay, I should have known. He is probably the only person who could call me at any hour of the night and know I would answer no matter what.

  I met Clay ten years ago. I remember it very clearly because it was the absolute worst day of my life. I was sixteen years old and coming home late one night after going out with some friends to a Fourth of July party. I got home to find the front door of my house standing wide open. My dad was a cop, so safety always came first. Doors were always locked, especially at night if they had already gone to bed.

  I walked into my house thinking maybe they just hadn’t gone to bed yet or had just come home from somewhere. With a dad as a cop and a mom as a nurse, their schedules could get a little crazy sometimes. Instead of finding my mom and dad when I walked in, I walked into my living room to find a man wearing a black ski mask standing there. I couldn’t tell what he looked like, but I could see his eyes. I will never forget those eyes. They were the bluest eyes I have ever seen. In that moment, staring into these strangers eyes, I knew I was about to die. It’s a funny feeling in that moment. A million things passed through my mind. How I would never see my friends again. All of the things I would never be able to do because I had always been too scared to do them. How bad those last few moments of my life were going to hurt. Most importantly I remember praying that my parents weren’t home. That maybe they had been out late that night too or maybe this guy just never found them. I knew I should run. I also knew he would catch me and I was going to die. Then the strangest thing happened. Sirens, there were actually sirens coming down my street. Then an even stranger thing happened, the guy just ran out of my house leaving me standing alone in my living room. Once my head realized my legs would work, I went running up the stairs. I ran straight into my parent’s bedroom.

  Big mistake, it was like a tornado had gone through their bedroom. I could barely make out their bodies lying on the bed. All I could see was the blood. It was literally on every surface. My dad still had his cell phone in his hands. I guess that explains the sirens that were now just outside our door. My dad will definitely always be my hero. If he hadn’t made that call, I would probably be dead. My legs had completely given out on me the second I looked in the room.

  I was still sitting right inside the doorway when the cops rushed in. Clay was the first person to me that night. He stayed with me the entire night until he knew I had somewhere safe to stay. He was the one who got me placed into a witness protection home here in Miami, Florida. He had found a nice older couple I could live with. Our cover story was I was their granddaughter who moved to Florida to live with them after my parents deaths from a car accident. I only had to stay hidden until I was eighteen since I never really saw his face.

  In one week I went from being Callie Porter in Nashville, Tennessee to Callie Scott in Miami, Florida. I liked Florida, but missed my friends like crazy. I did have one amazing friend here in Florida. Leighton Lancaster. We met the first day of school our Junior year. We went to college together and even taught at the same school now. She is definitely the best friend I have ever had. She knows more about me than anyone except for Clay. Clay knows almost everything about me. Almost.

  Clay has been my rock for the past ten years. He always calls to check in on me and make sure I have everything I need. He’s the closest thing to a dad I have now. He even made it to my high school and college graduations. We also spend almost every holiday together. Holidays suck when you have no family. We never make a big deal out of them, usually just go eat. There’s only one thing he doesn’t know about me. One thing only I know and pray every day no one else will ever find out about. I found out about a week after my parents died. That ended up being the worst day of my life. I’m really hoping that secret stays buried. It could change a lot of things for a lot of people. It could ruin a lot of lives.

  “Hi Clay, I hope you have a very good reason for waking me from my wonderful thanks to my sleeping pills coma,” I answer.

  “Nightmares again?” he asks.

  “Just a few, nothing too awful I guess, just having a bad day. How are you?”

  “I’m good, actually I am on my way to town and was hoping I could come by in the morning to talk,” he says. Clay never asks if he can come over. He always just drops by whenever he has a chance to come down. There has to be something else going on with him. Why would he be on his way at midnight? Could he not wait until morning to leave?

  “You know you are welcome to come by anytime Clay. What do you really want?” I ask him. I’m beginning to think we have lost the connection because it’s so quiet on his end when he finally starts talking again.

  “I need to talk to you about something serious actually. I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. It’s more of an in private kind of conversation. I’ll see you around eight in the morning. Hope that’s not too early, it’s really important Callie.”

  “Okay,” I whisper back before hanging up. Clay never sounds serious. He never refuses to tell me stuff over the phone. My mind is all over the place. Maybe they have finally found the person who murdered my parents. That would definitely not be an over the phone conversation, but if he’s found, what would be the harm in telling me over the phone? Please don’t let it be the secret that better have been buried with my parents. Please don’t let them be looking for me.

  It may be midnight, but I am wide awake now. I wish he was here now so we could get this conversation over with. I have no idea what he could possibly want to talk about. I decide to clean my house from top to bottom when I realize there is no way I am going to be able to sleep now. Even after cleaning, doing laundry and watching two really bad movies, it’s only six am. Maybe I should go running. I like to run when I’m stressed. Most people hate exercising, but I really think its great stress relief. I get back home from running with just enough time left to jump in the shower and get dressed before Clay should be here.

  I have just finished drying my hair when I hear the doorbell. I open the door to find Clay standing on the other side looking like he hasn’t slept in a week. I open the door and let him. He gives me a long tight hug and whispers, “good to see you sweetheart.” This is not the Clay I know. He looks beaten and down.

  “Good to see you too. Are you okay? Don’t take this wrong, but you look a little rough,” I say.

  “It’s been a long week,” he says, letting me go and going to sit on the couch. “I have some news for you. Come sit with me. We need to talk.”

  “Okay,” I tell him. “You are really scaring me. What’s going on?” He looks at me with his tired eyes and begins telling me a story. A story I never wanted to hear, a story I have known about for ten years. A story I am going to sit here and listen to and hope he never finds out I already knew about. A story about people I never ever want to meet.

  “It started about a week ago. I have some really good friends that live in a small town an hour and a half outside of Nashville. Bo and Cindy Taylor are their names.” This is bad. This is my biggest fear. They finally figured it out. It only took twenty six years, but they finally figured it out. This may have just turned into my worst day ever. “They have three sons and a daughter, Brody, Jaxon, Collin and Molly. About a week ago, Molly was in a pretty bad car accident. She’s okay, but got bruised and scratched up pretty good. She lost a lot of blood in the accident and needed a couple of transfusions.” That’s how they figured it out. She probably needed blood and they couldn’t give it to her. I really don’t think I can listen to any more of this. I have to stop him.

  “I’m really sorry your friend got hurt, but I don’t know what it has to do with me,” I say to him as I start to stand up. I know I’m acting funny, but I really don’t think I can listen to this. I have got to calm down or he is going to know I know.

  “She’s not their daughter, Callie.”

  “Okay,” I reply. I don’t really know what else to say.
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br />   “There were four baby girls born that day in that hospital. They have found two of them and had them tested. They are with their biological parents. They are having trouble finding the other baby. She seems to have disappeared. They asked me to help them. It’s you, Callie. You were the only other baby born that day.” I don’t even know what to say. It’s not every day you find out your parents may not have been your parents. Of course I already know the truth. I have known for ten years. I have thought about these people, researched these people, dreamed about these people for ten years, but I have never wanted to meet these people and I still don’t want to.

  “It has to be a mistake. My parents were my parents and there’s not a test out there that will change that.”

  “I’m not saying your parents weren’t your parents. They loved you more than anything I can assure you of that. The Taylors are good people, Callie. I can assure you they will not stop until they find you. They want to meet their daughter.”

  “You don’t know they are my biological parents. There is no proof. It’s been really great seeing you today Clay, but I think I’m ready for you to leave.” I have never kicked Clay out of my house. I have never said anything negative or hateful to him. I owe him everything. He has been my rock for the past ten years. I don’t know a lot about his past. All I know is his wife and daughter was killed and he is not very close to his son. I know I should be thankful I do have a family somewhere out there, but it just makes me mad. It shouldn’t have taken twenty six years to figure out you took the wrong baby home from the hospital. Aren’t moms supposed to know they’re not even holding their own baby?

  “Okay, I’m going, but Callie, just think about it. I know if I had a daughter out there and I could get a second chance I would do anything to meet her. I’ll call later,” he says, lying something down on the table by the door before walking out the door. I go over and pick it up. It’s a picture, a picture I have seen before. It’s a picture of a mom, a dad, three boys and a girl that definitely does not fit in that family. It’s actually kind of funny that no one figured it out before now. She looks nothing like these people. She does look just like my mom though.

  My mom was beautiful. She always reminded me of Snow White, just with red hair. She never would have made it here in Florida. Her skin would have burned just walking to the car. I never really thought about why I didn’t look like her. While I didn’t look just like my dad, I still had his dark hair. I do, however, look a lot like the mom in this picture. They are a beautiful family if you are just looking. They are all dark skinned with dark hair. She even has my annoying curls, even though her hair is cut a lot shorter than mine. Why couldn’t they have figured all of this out twenty six years ago?