Page 94 of Stolen Voices
“I hate running.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re hot girl fit.” Callie lowers her voice like a dude in a mocking tone. “‘I don’t do cardio. I only lift weights, and I eat nothing but protein.’”
I can’t wait to smack her butt when she sasses me. “You know I eat like a normal person, you smartass.”
She giggles. “I know. I’m just teasing. Since you don’t surf anymore, what do you do now for exercise?”
“Lift weights. Yoga. Row.”
Our conversation has Callie settling against me and a sense of contentedness washing over me as I hold her close.
“Rowing? Like, a boat?” she asks, confused, sounding cute as fuck.
“No, it’s a machine.” I explain how it works as she listens intently.
“Oh, that makes more sense. Do you miss surfing with your brother?” Her innocent question stirs a deep longing I’ve felt inside.
While I’m close with all my brothers, Jace and I were thick as thieves growing up. I didn’t think Jace’s absence would affect me as much as it has, but it does. Sometimes. Then, I remember how happy he is, and how we have Rhys and baby Sariah in our lives, and the mournful feelings pass.
“I do, but he’s much happier here, and that makes me happy.” My brother has everything he’s ever dreamed of, and as I get older, the more I share Jace’s sentiments. I want a beautiful woman to come home to and share my life with. A family of my own.
And I want it with Callie.
Sliding my hand up the mattress, I seek her hand to curl my fingers through hers and tug her tighter to my body, closing the small gaps of space between us. Callie’s body relaxes further as she sighs in what I hope is comfort. I take pleasurein knowing I’m the one bringing her solace.
“I’m ready,” she whispers into the darkness, breaking the silence.
“For?” I ask, confused.
“To tell you the truth.”
My body stiffens like a corpse as an icy dread settles in my gut. “The truth about what, Callie?”
“My family.”
My body relaxes, fear receding back into the recesses of my mind. “What about your family?”
“Do you remember how I told you my dad died in a robbery gone wrong?”
Like I’d forget the unmistakable sadness and grief that tarnished her beautiful features as she told me the short version of her story.
“I do.” I wait for her to continue.
“I was there too,” she sobs.
“Fuck, Callie. I’m so sorry you had to see that.” Her confession makes my heart collapse into itself. No words can heal the part of her soul that’s broken from witnessing and losing a loved one from such a heinous crime.
I pull her closer and press my body heat into hers. I hope my warmth and comfort heal just one splinter in her heart. Callie cries in my arms, and I hold her through it until she’s ready to continue.
“Me too.” Her voice cracks with emotion. “I called 911 as soon as the thief ran off, but my dad was in terrible shape. He was bleeding badly. Me and Mom tried covering the wounds with our hands to stop it, but nothing was helping. She held onto him, screaming and crying, begging for him not to leave her. He tried, but I could see the hopelessness in his eyes. He just kept repeating how much he loved us. His last words to me were, ‘take care of your mom’. We lost him before the ambulance arrived.” Callie sniffles.
I pull her closer, careful not to hurt her, and slide my hand under her pillow. Words of condolence will never be enough, but I give them to her anyway. “I’m so sorry, princess.”
She shrugs, having accepted her fate long ago. “Not as sorry as I am. I didn’t just lose my dad; I lost my mom too.”
“What do you mean?” I didn’t visit Callie’s mom during our trip to Malibu before we left. When we pulled up to the retreat, I had an inkling that someone important to her was there, and when I asked who was inside, she confessed it was her mom. I gave Callie the space she deserved to visit her mom alone, and I knew she’d tell me about it when she was ready.
“My mom couldn’t deal with dad’s death. She sank into a depression so deep I couldn’t help her. I tried, Eli. So hard. I fed her, bathed her, and held her while she fell apart. I didn’t tell a single soul she wasn’t taking care of me. I didn’t want to be taken away. Then who would help her? I was all she had, but I was also fourteen. Someone reported her to Child Protective Services.”
