Page 89 of Fighting Jacob

My thighs quiver with every stair I climb at the house I used to call home. It's different than I remember. Darker and more lifeless. There are more weeds in the planters I put under the windowsill than flowers, and the screen door has more holes than an eighteen-hole golf course.

I’m about to knock when the creak of old wood under my feet announces my arrival before I can. “Look what the cat dragged in.” Callum strolls down the long hallway of his childhood home, his eyes darting between Hank and me. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Pretending he didn’t just swipe his index finger under his nose like all drugs addicts do to ensure they get every last morsel of powder they’re sniffing, I ask, “Can we come in?”

After a short period of contemplation, Callum jerks up his chin. “He looks harmless enough.”

He shouldn’t underestimate Hank. I’ve seen him take down men twice his size.

When we enter the living room at the front of Callum’s house, he zooms around to clean up the mess of beer cans and pizza boxes covering nearly every surface. Although his home is a dump, nothing can distract me from seeing the three lines of white powder on his glass coffee table.

“I thought you were clean?”

Callum shrugs like it isn’t a big deal he’s using again. “Thought if I were clean, you’d come home, but that never happened, did it?”

After pushing the debris from his sofa onto the floor, he gestures for me and Hank to sit.

“I’d rather stand.”

“Of course you would, because you’d never do anything I ask without first whining.” After tossing a moldy pizza box into his unlit fireplace, sending ash floating across the room, he turns his massively dilated eyes to me. “Is there a reason for your visit? Or did you just come here to fuck with my head all over again?”

I nearly rebut, but Hank's jacket brushing my wrist when he puts himself between Callum and me reminds me that my trip down memory lane isn't about me. It's not even about Callum. It's for Jacob.

“I want you to amend the statement you issued to Ravenshoe PD two years ago.” My voice is surprisingly firm for how hard my heart is raging. “I want it changed to say you hit Jacob first.”

Callum cocks his brow as a grin inches his cheeks high. “And why the fuck would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll have you charged with attempted murder. You choked me with the intent to kill me. That’s more than a standard assault charge. ”

Hank’s eyes rocket to mine at the same time Callum laughs. “That was years ago. You don’t have a leg to stand on.”

“There’s no statute of limitation for attempted murder, which means I can proceed with charges at any time. The photos the detective took of my neck and wrist are damning enough, let alone the official statements from Maggie and me. You’ll go away for a very long time if you don’t follow my demands.”

Callum’s smirk doubles. He’s not convinced. I’m sure I can get him over the fence.

"I wonder how many years the DA will add to your sentence when the arresting officers tell him about the white powder you have all over your house." I nudge my head to the cocaine lines on his coffee table. "I'm sure that's not the only coke you have stashed here."

I yank my phone out of my pocket and dial two numbers: nine and one. My finger hovers over the one when Callum swipes his hands through the air. “Hold on, just wait a minute. Give me some time to consider your suggestion.” When he skittishly peers at the silver chest that used to hold his mother’s ashes, I realize my assumption that’s he’s hiding drugs is accurate. “I can’t just have Jacob un-arrested. It doesn’t work that way.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that. All you need to say is that you swung at him first. If it’s self-defense, Jacob’s original probation period could be shortened.”

Callum throws his hands in the air. “Why does it matter? He only has a week left.”

"It matters, Callum. Not just to Jacob, but to me as well. I made a mistake not having you prosecuted. I should have told them what you did just so Jacob wouldn't have to live with a conviction hanging over his head for the rest of his life."

Callum hears something in my confession I didn’t mean to expose. “You love him.” He drags his fingers through his hair before tugging the ends into spikes. “I can’t believe this. You’re bringing this here! Into my fucking home to save him.” He thrusts his hand to his front door like Jacob is standing behind it. “What the fuck does he have that I don’t have? Is it money? A big dick? What?!”

When Hank attempts to pull me behind him, I sidestep him. What I'm about to say should have been said years ago. I'm not willing to hold it back for a second longer. “That isn't what this is about. It's about justice and doing the right thing. Jacob didn't assault you for no reason, Callum. He did it because he cares about me like you once did—"

“Still do,” Callum corrects.

With a shake of my head, I fold my arms in front of my chest. “That isn’t true. If you cared about me, you wouldn’t have hurt me.”

“I was high! I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing.”

“That time, but what about the first time you shoved me, and the second and third? What about the time you beat me until I was barely recognizable? What were your excuses then?”

Sparks of the boy I once knew flash through his eyes when they glisten with tears. “I made a mistake, one I’ve regretted every day since.”

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