Chapter 24
Grease
Our second week in Sac started with a bang, and shit didn’t settle down after that. Callie was hot on my dick—pushing for us to have sex—and after the night we set up the bed, I was having a hard time telling her no. F*ck, that was an understatement. I had a feeling I was grinding my back teeth down to nubs with the strain of holding back. The idea that I was the one telling her no was f*cking ridiculous, but I was trying to do the right thing. I didn’t want her freaking out afterward—it’s not like she had anywhere to go if she lost her shit.
We were fooling around—that didn’t stop. We weren’t doing anything beyond what most kids her age were doing— hands and all that shit. But holy hell, I wanted her. I’d made the mistake of cleaning off my fingers with my mouth after one of our rounds, and goddamn if my mouth didn’t water now every time I got anywhere near her. It was a joke. I was being a f*cking p-ssy and I knew it. She didn’t have any reservations about f*cking, and thank god she wasn’t a virgin, but there was something…off. Something I couldn’t put my finger on.
She was almost desperate for it—my touch. And as much as I wanted to strut around like I had balls made of gold, I knew her craving for it was too extreme.
We took her in that week to sign her up for school, and I swear to Christ, the secretaries in that piece of shit high school kept looking at her belly. The fact that some tattooed guy brought her in to get her shit taken care of confused the hell out of them. I guess the conclusion they came to was that I’d knocked her up. It was so far from the truth is was f*cking funny, and she elbowed me about fifteen times as I rubbed on her belly. The secretaries could suck my dick. They’d better not give her any shit when I wasn’t there.
We set it up so she could start school the following week, and that afternoon we picked her up a little car that I’d bought from one of the brothers. The Aces Sacramento Chapter was pretty small, but it had some good guys in it. Several of them were close to my age, and I’d partied with them quite a bit whenever I was in town, but I was f*cking dreading introducing Callie to any of them. I’d claimed her, and I knew they wouldn’t touch her, but f*ck if I wasn’t jealous of any time they’d get to spend with her—especially after I headed back to Eugene. I didn’t want them even looking at her. I knew where they’d been. Shit, I’d seen where they’d been. I didn’t want Callie anywhere near that shit.
The clock was ticking down on my time with Callie, and it was wearing on me more and more each day. I got her the car so she’d have a way to get around when I wasn’t there—I was worried that she’d hole herself up in the apartment if she didn’t have a way around. It didn’t seem to matter, though. She didn’t want to go anywhere without me.
Every time I asked her to run to the store or pick us up some dinner, she’d come up with some excuse so she didn’t have to do it—she wasn’t feeling well, she’d just gotten comfortable on the couch, she wanted to cook something herself. It was never f*cking ending, and by the end of the week, her neediness was getting on my last f*cking nerve.
“Callie, get off your ass and go to the f*ckin’ store!” I sniped at her. We’d been arguing about shit we needed, like f*cking milk, and once again she was outright refusing to leave the goddamn house. I was going to lose it. I was still into her. That hadn’t changed, and I f*cking loved taking care of her, but it felt like I was turning into her freaking parent.
“I can’t, Asa. I don’t have very good night vision,” she told me with f*cking doe eyes. Since I’d met her, those eyes had been able to get me to do anything for her, but right then, they just pissed me off more.
“Calliope, I’m paying for your f*ckin’ apartment,” I hissed as I pulled her off the couch. “I pay for your f*ckin’ shampoo and your makeup and your goddamn toilet paper.”
I pulled her through the apartment by her arm, ranting at her the entire way. If she wasn’t going to pull her weight, I’d make her do it. I wasn’t asking her to milk a cow, for God’s sake; all I asked was for her to go to the grocery store only two blocks away. When we got to our dresser, I picked up her purse and shoved it at her, letting go so it would fall if she didn’t reach up to grab it.
“I’m f*ckin’ done with this shit,” I mumbled as I pulled her keys out of my pocket and put them in her hand.
I drug her back out to our living room and pushed her out the front door before I turned to walk back inside. Before I could take one step, I froze at the sound of her hiccup.
Then I kept going.
When I turned around to close the door, she was standing there, shaking, with tears running down her face—but I wasn’t about to coddle her. This shit had to stop.
“We need milk, Callie. We also need toilet paper, coffee, and some f*ckin’ fruit or something. Bank card is in your wallet,” I told her before shutting the door in her face.
I leaned against the door and listened to make sure she left. I waited there for ten minutes and there was no sound except for an occasional sniffle. When I’d finally reached my breaking point, feeling like shit for what I’d done, I heard her walking down the stairs outside.
My gut clenched.
I f*cked up. I knew it.
I should’ve done shit differently.
She was fragile and sweet, and still trying to figure out her new life.
I knew she was scared; I held her after her screaming nightmares woke us both up in the middle of the night.
But I had to do something.
I had three days before I had to head north.
If she couldn’t even go to the store when my ass was sitting on our couch waiting for her—how the f*ck would she survive on her own?