Page 162 of Crazy for this Girl

“I just need a minute... please, just...” Another fractured sob escapes my lips, and I cower over a tad to try and reel it in.

“Don’t cry,” Cal mutters, erasing a little more of the space between us. “I’m...I’m really trying here, but I’m terrified.”

“Shut up, Cal,” I snarl out, pulling all the inner strength I have in me to calm down.

“Take all the time you need. I just want you to know that I’m all in. I’m late, but I’m here.”

“Please stop talking,” I mutter, staring at his chest because all I want to do is cry like a big baby in my bed and not come out of my room for days. “We’re going to get to the hard part, and I just need to relax before I go do something really stupid to your dad’s grave.”

I hear Cal chuckle to my utter surprise at the situation. “Yeah, Laynee Peabody Reese, I’m going to marry you one day.”

“I’m not getting married.” I stretch my jaw out once before adding, “Ever.”

“Since when?”

“Since now.”

“Why, because it’s me?” He doesn’t sound angry with his question, more like amused. Meanwhile, I have so much unresolved resentment and hurt connected with him that it’ll take me another solid decade to get it all out. And I can’t take it out on a dead man. “Laynee, did you think I stopped caring about you?”

“Yes.” I don’t even have to think about it. I lived through it.

“That’s bullshit,” he carps out confidently, shoving my feelings aside to make room for how and why he did what he did.

“What else did you think I was going to think? I waited at that airport for hours. I thought something happened to you.”

“Technically, it did, but it wasn’t my decision.”

“But you decided to take my virginity with you, didn’t you?” I crane my neck up to scowl at him. “You made it worse when you just admitted that you knew you were more than likely going to leave.”

“Bad choice of timing, but I don’t regret being your first.” I ball my hands into fists at my sides, honing my anger to stay put and still.

It lasts all but two seconds before my hand is cocked back and flying at his face. But in record time, Cal’s fingers wrap around my wrist, holding it inches from his cheek.

“I guess your tax dollars are well spent,” he recites placidly, and I can’t read if he’s mad or plain amused at my failed attempt to hit him. “I was transformed into a machine, but they forgot to fucking fix the haywiring in my brain to make me forget everything I saw.”

“I wish they’d do the same to me. I wish I could forget everything because you dipped out on me quicker than you came into my life. I’m sorry…before you forced yourself into my life.”

His brows lift as he abruptly releases my hand. “Forced?”

“Forced. I didn’t stutter. You should’ve stayed on your side of the grass and not come traipsing onto my porch when I was in the middle of minding my own business.”

“And I don’t remember you telling me to fuck off, either.”

“I was being nice.”

He tsks with a scowl. “So for a very long time, I crushed on a girl who didn’t want me around?”

I tsk now to match his own because—you know—everything is a competition. “That’s bullshit.”

“The get fucked part or the crush?”

“The little too nice, I led your ass on for years part.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t you have eighty girlfriends in high school?” I snap my fingers knowingly. “Oh wait, you did. I know because you wrote and told me all about them.”

“Five. I had five girlfriends. You act as if I was a fucking whore.”

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