“You were three, just about to turn four. The ice cream truck had been circling the block for half an hour. You and Petal were in the middle of the flu, but you both begged for bubble gum ice cream.” The memory brings him joy.
“I wish I remembered.” I truly do. I want to. I want to experience what life would have been like here instead. I want to know what it was like to be loved.
“We never stopped looking for you. I was filled with so much rage at your mother that I never wanted her to return. But you? We missed you every day. We celebrated every single birthday, all the holidays, everything with you in mind.” Turning to look at the man who helped give me life, I feel like I’m suffocating. “There was one year when you would have been turning nine that I thought maybe celebrating was doing your sister more harm than good. I didn’t put out the presents we chose, I didn’t get a cake, and instead of having your favorite dinner, I ordered out. She was furious with me and didn’t speak to me for three days.”
“I always wondered if I was forgotten.” Choking on my words, I swallow hard as I try to picture them celebrating the birthday of a child who hadn’t been there for years. They wouldn’t do that if they weren’t constantly thinking of the child ripped from their hearts, would they?
“Never. Not a day went by that we didn’t wonder if–”
“If I were dead?” I finish for him, and he nods. “Jace and Cali tell me that if I want to move on with my life, to leave the past where it belongs, I have to tell you and Petal what happened. That instead of hiding from your questions, I have to answer them honestly, even if they hurt you.”
The crumpling of paper draws my attention to his hand. Seeing the perfectly folded piece of paper I’ve kept, no…more like held onto like a lifeline to my past, tarnished, breaks something inside of me, and I drop to the floor on my knees. Slamming my fists against the wooden slats, I scream.
I cry until I’m hoarse and can barely breathe.
Dad holds me through the storm as I tell him of that day. The day she tried to kill me. I expulsed my hatred for the woman who birthed me, and finally, finally, I feel like I can begin to breathe again.
To live again.
Jace
* * *
Arriving at Wesley Davies house earlier than Calla told me to, there’s a charge in the air, and from the ominous clouds rolling in, I can sense a storm is well on its way. Hopping out of my truck, I see Wes exiting the house. Exhaustion strains his face, and I know that Calla has finally talked with him. Maybe not told him everything but enough that she can let go of some of her guilt and resentment.
“Everything alright?” I ask him as I open the gate.
He nods, a crumpled piece of paper in his hand. “I wish I’d known everything my daughter went through. I wish…”
“You know there’s nothing you could have done. This isn’t your fault.” I don’t blame the man. Calla doesn’t either, so he sure as hell shouldn’t.
His head bobs up and down, but I don’t think he even realizes it. “No, I know. It doesn’t make me wish I couldn’t have helped her any less, however.”
“Yeah. I understand that.” I have the exact same feelings. “She’s home now, though. You have years to show her just how much she’s loved and has been missed.”
Wes nods again. “I know. And I plan to make up for it.” I have no doubt he will. “Listen, Jace, I wanted to talk to you.”
“What’s up?” But I already know. This is the father-to-boyfriend talk.
“I know you guys pretty well; love all three of you boys like my own.” The feeling is mutual for us. “Don’t break her heart. Please. I couldn’t protect her before, but I can now.”
“You got it, Wes.” Holding out my hand for a shake, he pulls me in for a hug instead.
“She’s in her room. I’m going to sit out here for a bit. I need the fresh air.”
Leaving Wesley on the porch, I head to the back of the house to find Calla sitting on the floor in her old room, back against the bed, staring at the closet.
“Did you know they celebrated every birthday with presents and cake, hoping I would come home?” She doesn’t look up at me as she asks.
Sitting down next to her, I see what she’s staring at now. “I didn’t.” A huge pile of presents sits on the floor of her closet. And pictures of her birthday cake from every year are pinned to a board on the wall.
“That’s twelve years of presents and cake without me. They had five with me. Why would someone do that? Wouldn’t it be harder to celebrate than to forget?”
Clasping her free hand in mine, I kiss her wrist. “It’s always harder to forget, Calla, because then it means you were really gone. And you’re not. You’re here and alive. You did come home.”
“Did I, really? Because half the time, I feel like I’m not even here. I’m stuck in my mind all the time. The nightmares live and breathe inside of me every minute of every day. Sometimes I don’t think I’ll ever vanquish all the pain she brought me.”
“What’s the last good thing you remember about your mother?” If she can focus on that, then maybe it’ll help her.
Calla bites her lip as her legs drop and her brows draw together. “Shortly after she stole me and we left here, I have no idea where we were or where we were going, but I couldn’t stop crying. The next day we went out for ice cream and rode a carousel all day. It was just the two of us because any other children were in school. I should have been too, but we ate our cones and pretended to be on unicorns flying through the sky. She told me one day my knight would rescue me, and I’d be free.”
“That sounds like a good memory. One you could hold onto when all the bad things try to invade your mind. Keep it close to your heart, Calla, and that could be what you remember when the nightmares close in on you.”
“It was. It was a fantastic day. Something I haven’t thought about in years.” The hand I’m holding clutches mine. Turning my head, I see the gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you, Jace.”
Crawling up to her knees, Calla straddles my lap. I remain still as she leans forward, placing her lips on mine. It starts out slow at first, then deepens. Her tongue peeks out to push at my mouth, and I happily open for her.
Calla has always been reserved and has hidden behind her past. But tonight, she’s opening up to me more than emotionally. She’s making the first move and going with it, so I let her. I allow her to remain in control as I hold her close and enjoy her perusal of my mouth.
When she pulls away, I can feel the reluctance, but she returns for more small, light kisses. “I really love kissing you,” she confesses with her eyes hooded and lust-filled.
Brushing the hair back from her face, I can’t help my satisfied grin. “That’s good because I’m a pretty big fan of it too.”
Sitting back on my thighs, the blush working its way up her flesh stiffens my dick, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do to hide it. When the crimson hue intensifies, I know she notices it too.
“Do you, uhm”—her gaze slides away, so I strengthen my grip on her hips, redrawing her focus—“that is, would you stay with me tonight?” Shocked at her request, I don’t respond immediately, and her insecurity reappears. “Never mind…it was silly.”