9. Rhys

9

RHYS

C ould you have a stroke at twenty-one years old? That was impossible, right? Maybe I should have checked Web MD just in case. I was pretty dang sure that could be the only plausible explanation for why I had not only approached Callum Hawkins on the street at night, but agreed to get a drink with him. On top of that mess, he was clearly not in a great frame of mind, which didn't exactly bode well for me.

Cal was a conundrum to me. He had the ability to be charming, funny, and interesting in a way that drew me to him like no other, but in the same breath he was cold, calculating, and manipulative. I couldn't get a read on him even though to an outsider it was fairly freaking clear he was crazy. He was a bully who delighted in torturing me with cruel words and crippling shame. The miscreant had already managed to wrangle two outrageously inappropriate orgasms out of me in public, and what did I do?

Did I scream? Did I shove him off? Did I put up any fight at all?

Nope. Why? I'm so glad you asked, imaginary other half of this conversation!

Because he's Callum. Freaking. Hawkins.

Despite all the bad he'd done so far, there was something about him that left me unable to walk away or fight against him…much. I couldn't rationalize it or find any logic behind my thought process, but I just had that unyielding feeling in my gut that “Hawk” was just the mask. I co uld see it every time I called him Cal, as if that one word had the power to crumble the facade he hid behind. Both times he had stared at me as if coming out of a trance, and in those split seconds I had seen pure emotion, visceral and raw, but somehow hopeful too.

There was something beautiful and real in the man behind the mask. For now, Hawk didn't exist to me. I was choosing to see him as Cal, just Cal. I simply had to be careful until I was either proven right…or I ended up ruined from being proven terribly wrong.

Well, no time like the present to test out my completely unreasonable, incredibly idiotic theory about this gorgeous, potential sociopath.

The walk was tense and heavy with all my uncertainties and Cal's troubles hanging between us. He kept his distance, walking at least a couple feet off to my side. It was like his moment of vulnerability in asking me to talk had to be corrected with physical space. That was all well and good, except for the pit forming in the bottom of my stomach because of it.

I followed Cal into a hole in the wall joint that I didn't catch the name of. He steered us to a booth in the back corner and I was oddly grateful for it. Maybe if he felt like we had decent privacy, he would open up and let me in even a little. All I wanted was a glimpse of who Cal really was when he wasn't Hawk, The Lacrosse God.

Yep. People actually called him that. I know. I can't make this crap up.

The silence that stretched between us was palpable, like I could reach out and pull it like taffy. He hadn't made eye contact with me yet, and I was beginning to think he'd changed his mind about talking with me at all. Just as I opened my mouth to say something, a perky blonde waitress appeared.

“Hey guys, how's it going? Can I get ya started with anything to drink? Maybe an appetizer?” she asked, her smile sweet and cheerful.

“Can I just get a Corona with lime, chips and salsa, and whatever he'd like to drink. All on one bill please,” Cal answered before looking at me expectantly for my order.

“Um, a Corona for me too,” I said quickly. She sashayed off to grab our drinks and I warily brought my gaze up to Cal's. He was fidgeting with his fingers, avoiding my eyes again. I felt a spark of irritation that he seemed to be ignoring me after asking me here for a reason. I cleared my throat and squirmed uncomfortably in my seat.

“Cal—”

“You're the only one who calls me that, you know?” He murmured under his breath. He was so quiet I almost missed what he said, but his words caught me off guard.

“Oh…should I stop?” I asked, confused.

“No. I haven't had anyone call me that in a long time,” he said softly, his dark brows pinched together as he continued to stare at the table. “I don't know why, but I…like it when you call me Cal.”

I was stunned at his admission, especially since he sounded pained to say it. I didn't get to respond before our drinks and chips were brought out, and Cal finally met my eyes.

“Are you close with your family?” he asked, his face weirdly blank. It felt like my brain was glitching because I was unprepared for his question and wary about why he was asking. Did he truly want to know or was he trying to find out information that could somehow be used against me later? I'd had experience with people trying to get close to me and then using the secrets I'd shared to cause me pain. However, I decided to take a stupid leap of faith.

“Well, it's just my Gran, but yes. I'm extremely close with her. Why do you ask?” I replied, not breaking the contact that seemed so evanescent, but significant in this moment. Cal merely nodded, his face giving nothing away.

“Where are you parents?” he asked quietly, head tilted in curiosity.

This conversation was quickly veering into uncomfortable territory considering I'd come here to talk about him . However, perhaps a little give-and-take was needed to draw him out of his shell.

“I lost them when I was ten. Car accident,” I sighed, trying like hell to compartmentalize and not let the ache of that statement hit me. I hadn't talked about my mom and dad in such a long time that even a flicker of memory was like a gut punch.

Cal's face crumpled as his brows furrowed, a swirling torrent of emotion clear across his features. “You're an orphan too?” His voice was rough and low, but his tone didn't seem offensive.

“That's a little too Charles Dickens for me, but yeah. Guess you could say that,” I muttered, sipping my beer and avoiding his intense scrutiny. It took me a second for it to click in my head what his question implied. “Wait. Too? You…also lost your parents?”

His chest heaved with a deep breath, but those mismatched eyes stayed latched on mine. I could see the answer there without him uttering a syllable, but I wanted…needed to hear it.

“My mom had Ovarian cancer. She died right after I turned eleven. I don't really have a dad,” Cal confessed in a gruff whisper. My heart clenched at his words, sympathy for him striking me in the twin wound I shared with him. The rational part of my mind lit up with thoughts that this was the reason for Cal's behavior, my brain fighting to find the logical cause behind his callous actions so far.

Guilt filled my gut thinking about the comment I made about his mommy issues that first night. I just had to go and open my big fat mouth. I knew it didn't justify the things he'd done to me, but this revelation was putting him into context and made it difficult to hate him as much as before. It was a tragic thread that tenuously connected us. It probably made me a sick person, but I liked that we shared something, even something as terrible as that.

“I'm so sorry, Cal,” I replied gently. “Were you close with your mom before she passed?”

He took a long swig from his bottle and started peeling at the label as he spoke. “My mom was my best friend. She had me pretty young and raised me alone even though her parents had wanted her to give me up.”

“But why? Was it just because she was so young?”

The look on his face was one of embarrassed discomfort. “Partly, but I wasn't exactly conceived in the…best circumstances. My mom got mixed up in something she shouldn't have and got pregnant with me. She also had to drop out of UT to have me. My dad basically became just a sperm donor and never acknowledged me as his son. She told me that from the second the strip turned pink she loved me. There was no giving me up and she was determined to make it work. Our life wasn't perfect by any means, but we were everything to each other.”

His eyes grew glossy and I had to fight the stifling urge to grab his hand and provide him what little comfort I could. “What happened after she…I mean, who did you live with after that?” I cringed internally, not wanting to pull up painful memories for him, but I was eager to learn more. I wanted to peel back every layer of him I could until I saw everything he hid from the world.

“My aunt and uncle took me in. My grandparents had been gone for a long time and they were the only family I had left. Growing up, I loved my Uncle Jack and he was always good to me. My Aunt Blair…well, she was always distant and I never saw too much of her, but I thought that living with them might be a good thing. I'd have a family ag ain. Didn't exactly turn out that way,” Cal said bitterly, his eyes hardening and jaw clenching.

“Why?” I asked against my better judgment.

A shadow crossed Cal's face and I instantly felt bad for asking. I was surprised when he answered me, though he didn't meet my gaze.

“Let's just say things got bad with her, and we weren't the family I thought we'd be. Uncle Jack traveled for work and was barely around once I moved in, so it was mostly me and Aunt Blair. She became abusive and…” He trailed off and I didn't have the heart to ask him to elaborate. I wasn't sure I wanted to know what put that haunted look on his face, but he continued anyway.

“I tried to get help once, but no one believed me, not even Uncle Jack. It's hard to take the side of a punk kid who never did anything right over the sweet, perfect wife who took in her grieving nephew. It didn't help that there were never any visible marks, so it wasn't like I had physical proof. I gave up on the idea that things would ever get better until I left that house. UT and Lacrosse gave me the escape I needed.”

My stomach churned in protest at the thought that he'd been abused by someone who was supposed to take care of him. It was even more distressing to know he hadn't gotten help the one time he reached out for it.

“So what happened tonight?” I cautiously inquired. He was lost in thought, staring at his bottle and I wondered if he'd heard me.

“My aunt called. She tricked me using my uncle's phone because she knew I wouldn't answer her. It got ugly fast between us, like always, and I…it brought up too much in my head. And that was on top of a long, shitty week and I just felt so close to snapping,” he said, rubbing his eyes roughly.

“Sounds like that was the Mentos in your Coke bottle this week,” I replied absentmindedly, ruminating over the crazy things I'd just learned about him.

“…my what?” Cal asked, his eyes wide and unblinking.

“Oh, um…you know, like when you put a Mentos in a Coke bottle that's already been shaken up and then it pfft , explodes? It's like a science experiment that kids do sometimes and it makes a huge mess, so I was just thinking that her calling you was like the equivalent of dropping a Mentos into your Coke after you went through a rough week and it made a bigger mess for you. Aaaaand I'm gonna just…shut up now. That concludes this episode of Rhys Nye, the Science Guy,” I rattled before chugging half of my beer and looking anywhere but at Cal.

He was quiet and unmoving, but I could feel his stare burning a hole in my cheek. “Do you always ramble like that when you're nervous?” he questioned, and I snuck a glance to see him smirking at me.

“I do not ramble…” I muttered petulantly, but even I almost rolled my eyes at the blatant lie.

“Let's put it this way, Evans. In a socially well adjusted person, there is a solid door between 'I'm thinking it' and 'I'm saying it', but you clearly kicked that door down and threw it in a woodchipper,” he snorted, digging into the chips and salsa.

“Oh, as opposed to your immaculate filter that keeps you all high and mighty?” I cranked my eyebrow up, daring him to challenge me. Cal cracked a smile at that, and seeing it made my stomach swoop dangerously.

Oh no, don't you dare, Rhys. There will be no swooping where he is concerned! You're in time-out until further notice.

“Not to be too morbid, but I'm curious about something,” he said tentatively, eyes narrowed slightly and his smile gone.

“What?” I replied nervously.

“You told me that you wanted to be a nurse because you had been in the ICU as a kid. I was wondering if that had anything to do with your parents' wreck?” His eyes were riveted to mine. I was a bit unnerved that he'd been able to piece that together, but I was beginning to think nothing about him should surprise me anymore.

“Yeah, I was in the car with them. We got hit on the driver's side and I always sat behind my dad, so I got banged up pretty bad. I was in the hospital for a few weeks and they weren't sure I'd make it for a while. Obviously I pulled through, but that was where I met Laura. She was the pediatric nurse who was assigned to me the most, and she was there when they told me and Gran about my mom and dad. I don't think I could have gotten through that without them both, but Laura became my friend. I still talk to her often,” I recalled, a smile tilting my lips as I thought of the last time I checked in with her when she had pushed me to date and get over Connor.

Fat lot of good I was doing with that, but I was a work in progress.

“That's cool that you're still in touch with her. A little weird that you're still close with this random nurse who’s so much older than you, but whatever floats your boat. She must be special,” he responded, giving me a curious look.

“Friends don't have to be the same age as you. It's not like that's a requirement. Honestly, people our age tend to suck and Laura's not as old as you’d think. She stuck around through some of the worst times in my life, which is more than I can say for some of the friends I used to have,” I retorted icily. Thoughts of Connor and his abandonment of me raced through my skull, and my mood plummeted. It's not like it was high after the cheery conversation we were having, but still.

“Uh oh. Seems like there's a story there…”

“Not one you're going to hear,” I deadpanned. “Also didn't you say your mom was your best friend? You also didn't comment about my Gran and I being close. That's no different than me and Laura.”

“Yeah, but my mom and your Gran are family. Laura was a stranger. How do you let someone you don't even know get close like that and keep them in your life for years?” Cal seemed genuinely confused by the sentiment and I wondered if he had ever let anyone in his life be close to him like his mom was.

“I mean, how does anyone make friends? We all start off as strangers at some point. With some people, you just click. Age and circumstance are irrelevant when you connect with someone,” I reasoned with him.

He let out a small, disbelieving scoff and drained the rest of his beer. “Friends are one thing, but I can't imagine having a connection like that with someone to the point they stick around long term. Even friends are temporary and if you really think about it, even your best friends can still be strangers at a certain point. You can only know someone so well before you hit a wall with them.”

“You don't think it's possible to have lifelong friends? Are you just waiting around for your friends to up and leave you? What about finding the person you want to marry and be with forever? They wouldn't be a stranger to you, or at least they shouldn't be,” I argued.

Cal rolled his eyes at me and leaned back in the booth before setting his gaze on me. “No, it's not like I'm waiting for my friends to leave, but I also know the odds of being friends with them forever are fucking tiny. And I've seen enough to know that love is not a forever thing. That's all dandy in romance novels or some shit, but you could be married to someone for decades and not really know them. And you and I know better than anyone that even when you love someone, it's never guaranteed they stay. They either leave by choice or by nature…and sometimes they don't really love you at all. Why would I choose to put myself through that if I can avoid it?”

His words stunned me into silence and my heart broke for him a bit. He was so cynical and jaded by everything he had lost and endured. Life had taught him that no one ever stuck around, so he'd given up hoping for it to happen. And his aunt had shown him that not even family was enough to ensure unconditional love. This conversation was much heavier than I had been prepared for tonight, but I also couldn't regret everything I had learned about him once a few of those layers were removed.

I stared at him, taking in the pessimism and indifference so clear on his face, but underneath that all was true pain. I realized that Cal didn't actually believe what he was saying, but that he was scared of it. It was what he feared would happen if he let people in.

“Why live at all then? Why have friends or family or put ourselves out there? There is always a chance that people will leave us or we'll learn horrible things about them that we wish we hadn't. People die, people leave, people hurt us. That doesn't mean we stop living, or else what's the point of it all? I survived that accident and you survived your aunt for a reason. We're meant to live. And I don't know about you, but I still hold out hope that I'll find that one person who will never leave me. They'd see all the beautiful and ugly parts of me and love me enough to stay forever. Not even death would stop us. We'd just find each other again in the next life or whatever comes after.”

My confession sat heavy between us, full of hope and longing. Cal's gaze never wavered from mine and I couldn't tear myself from the intensity I saw there. Something shifted in the air around us, a crackling energy that I had first noticed in the library. It terrified and excited me in equal measure, and I wondered if he felt it too.

Slowly, I dragged my hand across the table and covered his with mine. I saw the rough swallow that bobbed his Adam's apple, and I couldn't help but stare at it. I felt Cal's thumb swipe across mine gently, goosebumps rippling up my arm from the contact. I slid my eyes back up to meet his and saw he had leaned across the table toward me.

As if being pulled by an invisible rope, I mirrored the movement and leaned in as well. Though there were still inches separating us, I was close enough to see the light sweat beading across his forehead, the faint white scar that slashed his left eyebrow, and the barely there stubble along his jaw.

“Do you really believe that can happen? Finding someone to love you that…infinitely?” Cal asked in a low hum. I felt his breath fan my face with his question, and I wondered what he would taste like.

His eyes lured me in. Two different colors for his two different natures. Which color was the real him? Was he the cold ice of his blue eye, or was he the inviting warmth of his green one? Would I drown in the depths of that one ocean, or would I be drawn into the warm meadow of that green? I was mesmerized and felt my pulse pounding underneath my skin.

“Yes. I really believe that,” I answered honestly. I don't know what I expected from him, but I saw the second his eyes shuttered and our tether was severed.

“Then you are exactly as naive and gullible as I always thought you were,” he said nonchalantly, yanking his hand out of mine and pulling out his wallet. “It's a shame, really. It's not often I'm wrong, and I almost thought you'd surprise me for a minute there, but oh well.”

Every ounce of sympathy and warmth I had garnered for him tonight faded into disappointment and disgust.

“You are a seriously sick asshole, you know that?” I bit out.

“Ah ah, another dollar for the swear jar,” he tsked, not bothering to look at me as he threw money down on the table for the food. I grabbed my phone and stood, intending to get as far away from him as I could before he could do more damage to my sanity.

As I slid out of the booth, he grabbed my wrist before I could retreat. “Let go,” I warned.

“For what it's worth, I'm really sorry about your parents, Rhys. No one deserves to go through that,” Cal said sympathetically.

“But I deserved to be bullied and cornered in locker rooms?” I snipped, unable to help myself. The glare he shot me was frigid.

“Don't mistake tonight for more than it was, Sweetness. We got some shit off our chests and you bought yourself some respect from me, but you still fucked with my life with your complaint. You know enough about my life outside of UT now to understand that I'm fucking screwed if I lose my scholarship and go back to that place, which I will if you don't fix this with my Coach,” he growled.

Nausea bit at me from the implication in his words because now I did somewhat know what he'd be subjected to at his aunt's house. However, irritation and embarrassment chose my words for me.

“I guess you should have thought about that before deciding to be a duplicitous jerk. It's not my fault you got all drunk and handsy with Kappa Gamma Barbie before throwing me around like a brute.”

He stood up fast and crowded me back into the booth a bit, the glint in his eye feral. “I didn't do shit to her, and you can get off your goddamn high horse judging me. I thought this stupid bonding sesh of ours might actually get you to see reason, but I guess we'll have to go back to the hard way.”

Cal grabbed my jaw and crooked my head to the side, bringing his mouth next to my ear. He traced it lightly with his tongue and my knees nearly buckled at the unexpected touch.

“Then again, I remember you liked it a little too much. Next time? I'll have you on your knees where you belong,” he threatened in a raspy whisper before biting down on my earlobe, eliciting an involuntary whimper from me.

He stepped back and shot me a cocky smirk. “See you around, Sweetness. Thanks for the talk.”

I watched him stride out of the restaurant quickly, and I sank back into the booth, my legs giving out under the sheer weight of everything that had transpired tonight. I was beginning to think I was both right and wrong about there being more to Callum.

The trauma he faced ran deep and colored all his actions. He had needlessly suffered and it created an unquenchable rage and contempt for the world. He might have once been capable of profound love and friendship, but I wasn't sure that man existed anymore. He was nothing but bitterness and pain cloaked in layers of anger. In spite of that unfortunate truth, there was another one that was even more twisted and harder to face.

No matter what he had done to me or threatened me with, there was a part of me that was still inexplicably drawn to him, especially after tonight. He was as messed up and imperfect of a human being as you could get…and I still wanted him more than anything.

But he wasn't mine to have.