The Coincidence of Callie and Kayden

froth from my lips and stare out the window at the clear blue sky. “If I remember right, you had to carry me?”
     
    He nods. “You could barely walk… I didn’t mind doing it, though.”
     
    I pull the blanket off my body and slide my feet over the edge of the bed. “I should probably go take a shower and try to eat. Although, I feel like puking my guts out.”
     
    He places a hand on my leg, enfolding his fingers around my knee. “I actually want you to come somewhere with me. There’s something really important I need to tell you… It’s about what happened that night at the pool house.” There’s heaviness in his eyes and stiffness in his voice.
     
    “Okay,” I say. “Do I have to go with you now? Or can I shower first? I feel really gross.”
     
    He laughs at me. “You can shower first. I’ll wait for you out on the benches.”
     
    I get to my feet with a sudden urge to hug him. “Alright, I’ll make it quick.” I head for the door, but pause as I turn the knob. “Kayden, thank you for taking care of me last night.”
     
    “It’s not that big of a deal.” He hesitates. “I owe you a lot more nights of that before we’ll ever be even.”
     
     
     
     
     
    Kayden
     
    I hardly slept last night. I lay in bed, listening to Callie breathe, trying to match my own breathing to the rhythm. Part of me wished she’d just stay asleep, so I could continue to lie next to her.
     
    By the time the sun rose above the mountains, I decided it was time to tell her the truth, so she knew what she was getting into. Then she can decide if she really wants me, because I can’t seem to stay away from her.
     
    I’m nervous as fucking hell as I drive up the mountain where we took our first hike together. I park the truck near the tree line and we hop out, walking below the blue sky toward the hills.
     
    “We’re really going to climb up there again?” she asks, staring up at the top of the cliff as we approach it. Her hair is scattered across her back and her arms are crossed over her chest.
     
    I mount onto a boulder that’s on the side of the path and gaze out at the view. “It’s quiet today.” I sit down on the rock and pat the spot next to me. “Come sit down by me.”
     
    She shuffles toward me and I offer her my hand to pull her up. She situates beside me, rests back on her palms, and gazes out at the hills in front of us. I shut my eyes for a moment, feeling everything, knowing it’s going to go either good or bad when I tell her.
     
    “That night you showed up and my father was beating my ass,” I start before I can back out, “wasn’t the first time that he hit me."
     
    She doesn’t act surprised. “How many times has he hit you?”
     
    I watch a leaf float in front of us, drifting up and down, before blowing out across the spacious land. “I don’t know… I lost track around the age of seven or something.”
     
    She sucks in a sharp breath and her head angles to the side so she’s looking at me. “He hit you like that when you were little?”
     
    I shrug, like it’s no big deal. “It’s just something he did, you know? More when he was drunk, although he did do it when he was sober. He didn’t like things that we did and instead of grounding us or taking away our toys, he would hit and yell at us.”
     
    She stays silent for a long time as she studies the clouds in the sky. “What did you do to make him mad that night?”
     
    “I hurt my hand.” I flex my fingers out in front of me, not telling her that I did it on purpose. I’m not ready for that. “He was worried I was going to ruin my football career.”
     
    She grows quiet again. “Why did you never do anything about it? Tell someone? Or fight back?”
     
    And there it is. What I was waiting for. She’s realizing how fucked up the situation is. “I don’t know. At first I guess it was because I was too young to understand and by the time I got old enough to do something about it, I just didn’t care. Sometimes it feels like I’ve died inside.” I shrug and then shrug again, forcing myself to look at her.
     
    She arches her eyebrows at me, confounded, but there’s no judgment in her eyes. “You didn’t care that he hit you?”
     
    I shut my eyes and inhale the cool air. “That’s why I’m telling you this. I just don’t do feelings very well and I’m probably going to shut down and do a lot of fucked up things. You need to just stay away from me.”
     
    It’s silent and I