The Redemption of Callie & Kayden

call, however, I get stuck on who to call. My first instinct is to call Callie, but I haven’t talked to her since it happened and I’m not sure she wants to talk to me after finding me like that. The idea of finding out scares the shit out of me. Besides, I’m trying to keep my distance and protect her from me because the last thing she needs is my instability and fucked-up head.
    I dial Luke’s number and lean back in the bed, watching the storm outside my window as the phone rings and rings.
    “Kayden?” he says, sounding confounded. There’s an eighties song playing in the background and I can hear a lot of giggling.
    “What’s up?” It sounds so stupid after I say it. There’s a long pause and then someone starts singing really loudly and really off key. “Is that Seth in the background?”
    “Yeah.” He hesitates again. “Are you okay?”
    I flick the rubber band with my finger. It snaps back, hits my wrist, and sends a sting through my arm. “Kind of… Why are you with Seth?”
    “Because… we’re in the truck.” He seems conflicted. “We’re headed to Afton to see you actually.”
    I snap the rubber band against my wrist a few more times, but it’s not stilling the anxiety twisting inside me. “When you say
we
you mean…”
    “I mean, Seth, me and…” He trails off. “And Callie.”
    The singing stops and so does the music.
    “Who are you talking to?” Callie asks.
    When I hear her voice I swear to God my heart stops. I clutch at the chord and wrap it around my wrist until it’s tight and cuts off the circulation. I stare outside at the slush on the ground and the banks of snow around the mostly vacant parking lot.
    “Umm…” Luke struggles for words.
    “You can tell her,” I say, because if they’re headed here then I’m going to have to face her soon.
    “It’s Kayden,” he tells her and then it gets quiet.
    “Oh…” She’s perplexed and I don’t blame her. “Can I… Can I talk to him?”
    “Hold on,” Luke says and then asks me, “You want to talk to Callie?”
    “I…” I never get to discover my answer, and it sucks because I’m dying to know how I feel. My response would have revealed the truth about my fear and how bad it’s going to be when she gets here. But like always, my mother walks in just at the right moment and steals everything away from me.
    “We need to talk.” Her chin is tipped high like she’s better than everyone in the building and she’s carrying around a duffel bag on her shoulder.
“Now.”
    “I gotta go.” I hang up, knowing I’m being a pussy and dodging my feelings. I unravel the cord from my hand and lean back in my bed, putting my feet up on it. I’m wearing a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and an old blue T-shirt that has holes in it. I’ve worn the outfit five times since I’ve been here and it’s getting old.
    She heaves the duffel bag onto the foot of the bed and then positions her hands on her hips. “You need to work on getting better and getting out of here. It’s making our family look bad.”
    I carefully hunch forward, because moving too fast still hurts my side. “And what do you suggest I do, mother, because the doctors seem to think differently. They think I need to stay here and heal.”
    “I don’t give a shit what the doctors think.” She unzips the bag with a tug. “What I care about is that you get dressed in some normal clothes, get everyone thinking you feel better, and then come home so we can start planning what we’re going to do if Caleb Miller presses charges.”
    “I could always plead mental insanity.” Sarcasm drips from my voice. “Maybe they’d just keep me here instead of sending me to jail.”
    Her face flushes red and she shifts the handle of her purse higher onto her shoulder. “You think this is funny? Maybe I should have your father come down here and talk some sense into you.”
    No matter how hard I try, I’m sent straight back to that place where I’m lying on the floor bleeding to death and completely ready to accept it. I rub my hand across my face and then say through clenched teeth, “I’ll see what I can do.”
    She smiles and it looks out of place, like she’s the evil villain about to execute her evil plan. She kisses my cheek and I can smell the wine on her breath. Then she moves back and rubs her thumb across my cheek. “I got lipstick on you.” She pulls her hand away and smiles again. “Let’s work on getting you out of here.” She pats my