Save Me: a Stepbrother Romance (17 page)

“For you, Nat.”

His voice was painfully soft and hurt.

“You know I didn’t want you to start a fight.”

“I didn’t.”

“Explain.”

Cal groaned and dropped his head.  “He attacked me, Nat.  I saw him waiting for you after school.  Knew he wanted to hurt you.  Couldn’t let that happen.  He tried going after you when you left campus, which is when I stepped in.  He got pissed.  He attacked me.”

“And you slit his throat?” I hissed, gesturing at his bloody shirt.  I couldn’t pretend that I didn’t appreciate the Batman level protection.  But I didn’t have to pretend to hate the fact that he was covered in my ex-boyfriend’s blood.

“It’s not his blood, Nat,” he said softly.

“What?”

Cal peeled back one of his many bandages, this one on his forehead above the right eye.  I gasped and covered my mouth.  Jesus, that was bad. 

“He cut you?”

“It’s not as bad as it looks.  Just bleeds a lot.”  He patted the bandage back down. 

“So…”

“I didn’t hurt him.  Because I know you didn’t want me to.  Even if he fucking deserves it.”

I stared into my coffee mug for a moment.  Well, crap.  I hadn’t expected that.  My fingers crawled to his, and instinctively, he clasped my hand. 

“I’m sorry it happened, Nat.”  He brought my fingers to his mouth and kissed them.  “I tried to avoid it.  It’s fucked up.”

Fucked up.  A good summary of the evening.

“He’s fine,” Cal said.  “It’s why he didn’t bother going after me legally.   And anyway, it lets him seem like a hero.  The good overachieving hero taking pity on the poor fuck up, right?”

“Where is my son?”

James voice echoed throughout the room, harsh and bellowing.  I heard my mother’s footsteps scurrying in from her bedroom, and James’ footsteps stomping to the kitchen.

Cal winced. 

I squeezed his hand, then let it slip out of his grip.  I wanted so bad to hold him, to protect him from his father like he protected me from Nate.  But maybe part of really protecting each other was knowing when to pick our battles.  Stepping in would only make it worse.  Especially now.

“Is he going to hurt you?” I asked in a small voice.  I didn’t know what to do.  I had pepper spray in my purse, and my hand felt its way inside.  It wasn’t a lot, but at least it would give him time to run.  I could put up with James until then.

“No.  He won’t, at least not in front of your mother.”

James appeared in the doorway.  His face was bright red with rage, and his hands were clenched into fists at his side.  A vein popped in his forehead.  Beside him, my mother poked her head into the kitchen.  Worry was etched across her face.

“What.  The.  Hell.  Do you think you were doing?” James growled, stalking forward.  Cal stood, and I felt his arm subtly move in front of me.  Shielding me again.  Like always. 

“I asked you a question, you son of a bitch!”

“James, don’t talk to him like that,” my mother said softly.  She reached forward to touch his shoulder, but hesitated.  The hatred was radiating from him now.  Maybe she was finally seeing who he really was.  Her gaze flitted to Cal, suddenly softer and more concerned. 

“Don’t tell me how to talk to my own son, goddamnit!”

“Don’t talk to
her
like that!” Cal yelled.

Mom was really taken aback at that.  Her gaze flitted from James to Cal and back again.  Second thoughts, maybe?

“Stop,” I said, standing up.  James ignored me, but Cal glanced back at me.  His gaze was concerned—
Don’t involve yourself if it will put you in danger.  Please, sweetheart.

I had to.

“You said we were going to have a talk,” I said to Mom.  “That’s why we were waiting down here.  That’s why we were waiting for James to get home.  Just tell us what we need to hear before we start fighting, alright?”

James bristled at the mention of ‘a talk.’ 

Hm.  Strange.  But as long as it kept him from screaming at Cal for a few moments, I would take it. 

Mom sat down.  “You’re right, honey.  I think that’s really all we can do at this point.  Especially after…”  She glanced at Cal’s bloody shirt, then sighed and put her face in her hands.

“Right.  A talk,” James spat.  He glared at Mom, then pulled out a chair with a screech and fell into it beside her.  He was enraged, but there was something else there.  They had been keeping a secret from us, hadn’t they? 

What were they planning?

“We might as well get to the point,” Mom said, pulling her face out of her hands and resting her chin on her fingertips.  God, she looked tired.  Tired and old.  These last few months had aged her even worse than Dad’s death.  A shithead for a husband will do that, I heard. 

Cal glanced at her.  “Which is….?”

“We’re getting a divorce.”

You could have heard a pin drop.

Cal’s hand tightened on my knee.

“A divorce,” I repeated numbly. 

Only, I didn’t say it.  I mouthed the words.  I was too weak to put any real voice into it. 

I knew their marriage was fucked up.  The screaming matches were a testament to that.  But there had been no sign that they would actually … well, split up.  Mom wasn’t a quitter, even if she really should be sometimes.  And I got the sense that James despised the idea of failing at anything.

It must have been even worse than I thought.

“We’ve been thinking about it for a long time,” James said coldly.  “We think it’s best for both of us—all of us—if we separate.  Callum and I will do much better living on our own—”

“You’re moving out?” I cried.

James shot me a glare.  “—living on our own, moving out of this house, yes.  It’s better for all of us, you in particular.  Healthier.”

“You mean easier to beat your child you son of a bitch!”

Both James’ and my mother’s jaws dropped.  Cal’s hand bit harder into my knee, more out of shock than to hush me. 

“Natalie Amelia!” my mother gasped.

I shouldn’t have said it.  But I didn’t regret it.

“That’s it,” my mother said, standing again.  She slapped the table top with a harsh
smack
.  “That’s why they’re moving out, Natalie!  My daughter never used to talk to me that way.”

“I told you,” James growled, glaring at his son across the table.  “I warned you that he ruins whatever he touches.”

“Don’t fucking talk about him like that!”

“Natalie Amelia Harlow, you will not raise your voice in this house,” my mother cried.

“Not if he’s going to hurt Cal!”

“And what about Cal hurting you, hm?”  My mother shook her head wildly.  “Do you have any idea how much you’ve changed since he moved in, Natalie?  You’ve lost your boyfriend.  I’ve heard you skipped a class last week.  Your grades are slipping.  You got a B in math last report card!  You used to be so good, Nat, and ever since he moved in … ever since we shook up the household, you’ve changed.”  She touched my shoulder.  “It’s for your own good.” 

I couldn’t hear a word of that monologue.  I was deafened by the horror of what was going on.  They were taking Cal from me.  They were taking Cal from me, they were going to hurt him, they were pretending it was good for us.

“So I’ll work harder!” I said.  “I’ll get my grades up.  I’ll help Cal in school, I’ll—”

“Cal has been expelled,” James spat.  “Funny, the school doesn’t want around a thug who assaults its students.  Who would have thought.  Which is another reason we have to leave.  I have to find a school stupid enough to take my son.”

“Don’t talk about him like that!”

“Stop, Natalie!” said Mom.  “We are not discussing this!”

I realized hot tears were staining their way down my cheeks.  Cal’s shaking hand reached for me, but I stood up.

“No!” I sobbed.  “You can’t!  You can’t just—just tear us apart like this!  It’s not fair!”

“Natalie Amelia, control yourself!”

I tore myself away from her grasp, but she grabbed my sleeve.  “Natalie, you have to understand that this is better for all of us.  Cal needs help, help he can only get if he’s taken away from the distractions here.  And you, Nat!  You’ve changed so much since he moved in!”

“It’s because I don’t have to pretend anymore!  I don’t have to lie!”

“Bullshit, Natalie!”  Even in the midst of my meltdown, my eyes popped open.  My mother had never, even in all her fights with Dad, used a curse word.  It was anathema to her.  “We’re not discussing this.  He’s moving out.  James is moving out.  We’re getting a divorce.  This conversation is over.”

My mother grabbed her housecoat and stormed out of the kitchen.  The slam of the bedroom door reverberated in the walls.  Cal was still silent, avoiding looking into his father’s eyes.  James glared at him hard, but he kept his arms crossed.  No more screaming.  No more hitting.  At least not tonight.

“We’re moving out on Friday,” James said shortly. 

“No,” I choked.

“Make sure your things are packed.”

“No!”

“I’m sorry this little experiment didn’t work, Natalie.  But some families aren’t meant to be together.”  He was back to Fake James, the disgustingly personable James with veneers and a bad tan.  Pretending to be my friend.  I hated him.

“Make sure to get your goodbyes done,” he said as he stalked out.  “If anyone cares about you enough to want one.”

On Friday morning, the crowds of hired hands arrived to begin packing.  Callum and his father waited on our lawn, the exhaust of their truck blackening the cloudy sky.  Mom had pushed an umbrella into my hands and pulled a rain poncho over me as we watched the crowd of people slosh through the mud to pack boxes into the U-Haul.  Everything about that day was horrible—even the weather.

My grandmother used to tell me that rain is God crying. 

If so, I appreciated the sympathy.

“Do you know where you’re moving?” I asked Cal as we shoved a box into the truck.  It held the sheets from his now empty bedroom.  Something about how bare the room was now made me sick to my stomach.

“No.”  He gritted his teeth.  “He won’t tell me.”

“Is it because….”