The Resolution of Callie & Kayden(58)

He takes a deep breath and immediately I know whatever he called for has to be bad. ‘It’s my dad. He’s dead.’

‘I’ll be right there,’ I say, practically running toward the exit doors at the end of the hallway. All I can picture is him locked in the bathroom with a razor in his hand. ‘Are you at home?’

‘No, I’m actually in the parking lot.’ Emotion surfaces through his voice, cracking down the line, and I swear I can actually feel it. ‘I needed to see you so I’ve been sitting out here waiting for you to get out of class.’

‘I’m coming.’ I burst out the doors and sprint across the snow, grasping onto my bag. ‘Where are you parked exactly?’

‘At the front.’ There’s a vulnerability to his voice, like he’s fighting not to break apart before I get there.

I scan the parking lot and when I spot his car, I veer right, not slowing down until I reach it. I throw open the door and jump in. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat, staring ahead at the campus quad, his jaw set tight, as his chest rises and crashes. He has on his pajama pants and a hoodie which means he probably left the house in a hurry.

The warm air kisses my skin, but the silence of him chills my heart. I’m not sure what to say – if there’s anything I can say. What the heck does one say to someone in this type of situation?

I’m sorry.

That you lost your dad.

Lost the monster in your life.

That you’re hurting.

That you’re confused.

That you have to go through this.

‘I love you.’ It’s all I can think of and it seems to be exactly what he needs to hear because he turns to me, eyes soft as he leans over and wraps his arms around me, pulling me to him. My stomach presses into the console, but I still give in as he hugs me closer, almost in desperation.

‘I love you, too,’ he whispers with his head buried in my neck. ‘God, I f*cking love you. And really, that’s all that matters.’ I can feel the exact moment when he starts to cry, not because I can feel his tears or even hear him. I can feel it because of how tight his hold on me gets, like every one of his muscles is forcing the emotion out of him.

I wrap my arms around him and run my fingers through his hair, remaining quiet while he cries because there’s not much more I can do. He needs to get it out and I’m glad he is. It’s when he holds it in that things become a problem.

I’m not even sure how long we sit there like that, well into the evening, but I don’t dare move, afraid he’ll suck all the emotion back inside himself and trap it there.

By the time he pulls away, the sky has cleared, but the sun is lowering behind the mountains, casting its orange neon glow against the snow on the ground. There are hardly any people left on campus and the parking lot is nearly vacant.

‘Are you okay?’ I ask as he wipes his bloodshot eyes with the back of his hand.

‘Yeah, sorry about that.’ His voice is hoarse ‘I just lost it for a second.’

‘You know, it’s okay to lose it,’ I say, reaching over to wipe away a few tears remaining. I’m about to pull away when he leans into my touch so I keep my hand there. ‘And it’s okay to cry.’

‘I know it is,’ he says, letting out a heavy exhale. ‘And I think I needed to do it – let it all out. I’ve needed to for the last twenty years.’

There’s a pause and I’m about to ask if he wants to talk about it when he leans back in the seat, facing forward then puts the car into reverse. ‘I know you have questions,’ he says as I buckle my seatbelt. ‘And I’ll answer them, but I just want to be home when I do, if that’s okay?’

I nod, turning forward in my own seat. ‘Of course that’s okay.’

He looks relieved as he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the street. On our way back to the apartment, we stop to pick up some takeout because neither one of us is great at – nor do we enjoy – cooking. Then we settle on the sofa with our hamburgers, fries, and drinks, and eat in silence even though it just about drives me crazy.

‘It was my mother who called,’ he finally says as he picks up his drink and fiddles with his straw. ‘She found out my number and called to tell me herself.’

‘Was she …?’ I pick at my hamburger. ‘Was she nice?’

He shakes his head as he takes a sip of his drink. ‘No, she was exactly herself.’