Page 52 of Redeeming

She ignores me. “And do I know this man, Caitlin?”

Forget cracking. What’s left of my heart is shattered.

“It turns out, I’m not sureIeven knew him.”

“And then what happened?” Bellamy asks, lying next to me in my bed the next day after she gets off her double shift at the hospital.

“I made her promise I could have a few weeks before we talked to my dad. I need to wrap my head around this before I can handle the freak-out he’s going to have.” I shove my hands under my pillow and ignore the fact that I’m wearing Callen’s shirt to bed.

Bellamy mirrors my position. “And Amelia’s going to keep it from him?”

I nod. “But I have to call the doctor’s office today and schedule an appointment. That was her one demand.”

“I figured your mom and dad had that wholeyou tell one, you tell boththing going for them.” Of course she did. Bellamy grew up in a normal house. With a schoolteacher for a mom and a fisherman for a dad. Secrets were probably never kept in her house.

“Secrets are part of my parents’ lives. She wasn’t happy, but I’m an adult, and she respects me. So she agreed.” Thankfully. Because I can’t imagine doing this without my mom, and the thought of telling my dad right now scares me almost as much as the idea of being responsible for keeping a human alive.

I’ve had plants die in less time than it takes me to pick out my clothes for work.

“So what are you going to do?” B asks after a few minutes. “You know you don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to. It’s your choice.”

“I know in theory it is. But for me, there is no choice.” Once I calmed down enough to think more clearly, I knew what I was doing. I wasn’t excited about it. I’m still not. But my heart told me this was what’s right for me. Of course, my heart also told me I loved Callen, so its judgment skills are somewhat lacking. “I’m going to have it. I’m probably going to fuck up its life the way I’m apparently excelling at fucking up my own though. So there’s that to look forward to.”

Maybe I should start a therapy fund instead of a college fund.

Do they have them?

“What about Callen?” she asks the question I haven’t stopped asking myself since I climbed in bed last night. One I still don’t have the answer to.

“What about him?”

She holds my glare for so long, I think she may have forgotten how to speak. “You’ve got to tell him, Cait,”

“I know,” I answer softly. Aching. Wishing this was happening in a different time under different circumstances. One where he was here with me, and we were both happy about this surprise. “But I’m not even ready to talk about this with anyone else yet. I can’t think about Callen’s feelings now. I will. I promise. When I’m ready.”

Bellamy slides one of her hands under my pillow and links her fingers with mine. “The longer you wait, the harder it’s going to get.”

“Pretty sure I’ve already hit that wall. I’m not sure how much harder it can get.”

I know just how wrong I am before the last word even leaves my lips.

I thoughthardhit the day Callen left, but it’s gotten incrementally worse each day since.

And that was before I learned exactly how much my life was about to change.

Another lackluster showing from our Kings tonight has left this reporter almost as disappointed by their lack of performance as a virginal bride on her wedding night is with her husband. Even worse... another loss means another lost opportunity for our favorite ballers to show up and show off in force to celebrate. Ahh... the good old days when all it took was Callen Sinclair appearing at a bar and bam—we’d have ourselves a juicy headline.

This reporter isn’t giving up hope though. With now twelve games behind us in the regular season, the Kings are leaving us desperate for two things: A chance at the taste of a post-season victory and a chance at a bite of some deliciously, decadent gossip.

#KroydonKronicles #TheGoodOldDays #FootballBlueBalls

CALLEN

“This seat taken?” Dad asks as he climbs the last few steps of the nosebleed seats and sits next to me in a now-empty Kings stadium. He zips his heavy jacket and kicks his feet out as he looks out at the empty field. “Looks different up here, doesn’t it?”

“Sure does,” I admit. “Kinda looks peaceful.”

“Not something you often say about a football field, son.”

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