The Coincidence of Callie & Kayden (The Coincidence, #1)

I smash my fist into his face over and over again, seeing red, only red, like it’s been bottled up inside me for years. Someone tries to pull me off, but I shove them off repeatedly. I don’t know how much time lapses as I continue hitting him. Finally someone is able to get me off of him.

I shake off their hand, thinking it’s Luke, but the red and blue lights flashing against the still water bring me back to reality as a police officer slaps handcuffs onto my wrists.

“Don’t move,” a cop yells and I’m shoved forward, falling on my knees into the dirt.

With my bloodstained hands behind me, I take in what I’ve done. Caleb’s still breathing, but his face is so engorged and bloody there are no features left. I’m not sure I care, though, because when it all comes down to it, Callie got her justice.
***
Being in jail seemed better than going home and I refused to call my dad. In the end, one of the officers calls him, because of his highly respected status in the town. My dad’s always been big on the donations, which makes people automatically think he’s a great guy.

Hours later, I’m in the kitchen of my house, sitting at the table. My mom went to pick up Tyler from the airport and had to take a cab, because neither of them will be sober enough to drive. It’s just my dad and I in the house. Something’s about to end, I just don’t know what.

“This is fucking bull shit.” My dad circles around the table and kicks the bottom of the counter with his boot, putting a hole in the wood. “I get a call in the middle of the God damn night to bail your ass out of jail, for beating the shit out of someone.” He pauses, running his finger along a small cut below his eye that was caused by our fight. “You’re really on a roll today, you little shit.”

“I was taught by the best,” I mutter, my ribs stinging, my arm throbbing, yet somehow, I feel more content than I ever have.

He picks up a chair and throws it across the room into a shelf, breaking a vase. I don’t flinch. I just trace the cracks in the table with my thumb. “Where did I go wrong with you?” He stomps around the island that’s in the middle of the kitchen. “You’ve been a fuck up since you were two.”

I stare at the wall, picturing Callie’s smile, the sound of her laugh, the softness of her skin.

“Are you listening to me?” he shouts. “God dammit, Kayden, quit ignoring me!”

I close my eyes, reliving how it felt to be inside her, touch her, kiss her all over her body, the smell of her hair.

My dad’s hands slam down on the table and my eyes shoot open. “Get up.”

I shove away from the table, knocking the chair to the floor. I’m ready for it. As he bends his elbow back over his shoulder, swinging his fist forward, I curve mine up and slam it into his jaw. The pain stuns us both as our fists connect with each other’s faces. There’s a pause, where he really looks at me, like he’s seeing me for the first time, before he seizes me by the shoulders and throws me against the wall.

“Knock it off, you little shit!” He knees me in the side and I hammer my knuckles into his cheek in retaliation.

Again, he’s shocked and it takes him a moment to recuperate. All I think about is how afraid he looks, the lack of confidence in his eyes, and the unsteadiness of his posture.

He grabs onto my shirt, desperate to gain control as he pushes his hand against my face, shoving me back against the cupboard. Digging my fingernails into the palms of my hands, I curve my fist upward and strike him in the side of the head, hard. He lets out a grunt as he shoves me back and I crash against the counter, banging my hip against the tile and knocking knives to the floor. I start to move forward, but he runs at me with his head down. I speed up, bending my knees to hop over the island, but he catches the bottom of my shirt and jerks me down to the floor. I fling my arm behind me, reaching for him, but he ducks down.

I feel numb. Completely dead inside as I spin around on my heels and shove my hands against his chest. He refuses to let go of me, even when he trips to the floor, and he yanks me down with him. I try to roll on top of him, but seconds later I feel something sharp pierce through my side and everything stops.

My dad rises to his feet, holding a blood-soaked knife. “Why can’t you ever listen?” He drops the knife onto the floor beside my feet and it clanks against the tile. His face is as white as a ghost as he backs away. “You fucking…” He drags his fingers down his face, before he takes off for the front door, leaving it ajar behind him and cold air gusts in.

Every part of my body aches, like a thousand knives have been stabbed into me instead of one. Pivoting to the side, I crawl up, and lean against the counter, moving my hand away from my side. Blood coats my trembling fingers and leaks out of the hole in my shirt, filling the cracks in the tile floor below me. I shut my eyes as I fight to breathe, but the pain is winning.

I think about Callie, what she’s doing, what she’ll do when she hears about what happened. It hurts, even though it’s not supposed to; the thought of me leaving her, of her leaving me, of never having her again. I can’t hold it in.

Reaching to my side, I pick up a knife, my hand unsteady as I put the tip to my forearm. It’s what I’ve done for ages to shut it off. It started when I was seven when I realized that cutting myself helped me breathe—helped me live through the hell of life. It’s my fucked up secret; the darkness that lives within me. With every incision into my skin, the pain begins to subside as blood covers the floor.




Callie

I wake up to an empty bed and panic erupts through my body. Where did he go? I grab my phone off the nightstand and text Kayden multiple times, but he doesn’t answer. I slip my shoes on and run out the door to go look for him. I need to talk to him about last night and let him know that we need to just let it go because with him in my life, what happened with Caleb isn’t as scary.

Morning is clipping over the mountains and the sky is a bright pink, but the beauty of it is very misleading compared to what’s going on down below. The wind is raging, blowing in a storm and chilling the temperature.

My father is at the kitchen table when I walk inside. His brown hair is parted to the side and he’s got his tie and slacks on, ready for Thanksgiving dinner this afternoon.

When he peers up from his food, his eyebrows furrow. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying.”

“I’m fine.” I glance in the living room, before backtracking to the center of the kitchen. “Where’s mom? I need to ask her if I can borrow her car.”

“She’s taking a shower.” He stands up from the chair and drops the bowl into the sink, observing me. “You look like you’ve lost some weight. Make sure you eat a lot today. There’s going to be a game after dinner and I want you to play this year.”

“Okay, fine.” I can hardly hear him as I browse through the messages on my phone, but there aren’t any from Kayden. “Can I borrow your car for a little bit? I promise I won’t be gone for too long.”

He reaches for the keys in his pocket. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look really upset.”

“I’m fine,” I assure him, unnerved because normally he doesn’t notice these things. How bad do I look? “I just need to check up on a friend.”

He tosses me the keys and I catch them effortlessly. “Would this friend be one of my old quarterbacks?”

I wrap my fingers around the keys, feeling the jagged sides cut into my palm. “Mom’s been gossiping, hasn’t she?”

He shrugs, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “You know how she gets. She just wants you to be happy.”

“I am happy.” And at that moment it doesn’t seem like a huge lie. “I just need to find someone.” I turn for the door.

“Be back in an hour,” he calls out. “You know she’s going to want your help. Your brother never came home last night. He probably stayed out all night getting drunk, so he won’t be any help.”