Chapter 39
Calida
I awoke to an empty bed. The clock beside the bed read eight a.m. Easing out of bed, I went in search of Malcolm. I turned the knob. It was locked. Why was I locked in his bedroom? My eyes closed when the memories came back. Us in bed. Me groping him. Then he got excited and started making out with me. I’d freaked out. I’d had a panic attack.
“No. No. No.” My fingers fumbled with the lock as I tried to open it.
I ran down the stairs. An eerily quiet house greeted me. Malcolm was nowhere to be seen. Did he leave the house last night? He’d locked me in the room. He had to. I didn’t remember doing that. I didn’t. Did I? My stomach lurched at the thought. Why couldn’t I remember everything?
I was near panicked by the time I finally spotted him sitting outside on the deck. He turned when he heard the door open. That look. I remembered that look. It was the same one he had the morning after I’d burned Seth’s stuff. Neither of us spoke. He looked tired, like he’d not slept all night.
I walked out on the deck. He got up from the lounger. I stepped toward him. He stepped back.
He stepped back.
I pressed my lips together. My chest tightened, and I fought to ignore the giant boulder in my stomach. I opened my mouth to speak, but he beat me to it.
“Once you’re ready, I’ll take you home.”
Malcolm’s inability to meet my eyes…devastation radiated from him. What had I done?
My throat burned in my attempt to hold back the tears. I wanted to say something. Needed to say something, but words eluded me.
He swirled the cup in his hand, then brought it to his lips and finished off what I guessed to be coffee. “I’m gonna go take a quick shower. Unless you want to go first.”
I shook my head. Malcolm hesitated, as if figuring out the best way to get inside without coming too close to me. I stood between him and the door. Finally deciding on his path, he headed toward me. I didn’t move, but just as he passed by, I reached for his hand. I worried he’d pull away or just keep walking. He stopped, but didn’t look back at me.
“Wh...why did you lock the door?”
Malcolm didn’t answer right away. The longer he took, my apprehension grew. Was he going to say he didn’t, that I had? I silently prayed he’d not say that. I couldn’t handle that. I couldn’t handle knowing I’d done that to him. My stomach ached. Blood pulsated in my ears. My heart pounded like an angry drum. I needed him to look at me. If only he’d look at me, I’d know things would be okay.
“So you’d feel safe.”
All of the air was knocked from my lungs. I let his hand go. Why couldn’t I remember what happened? If I could remember, I could make things right. I knew I’d freaked out on him, like the first time. But worse. With the way he acted, whatever happened was a million times worse than before. He wasn’t even trying to talk about it. That was not a good sign. My entire body felt heavy. I stared blankly at the trees until my vision blurred.
I headed back into the house, closing the door quietly behind me. My legs carried me up the stairs. The devastated, defeated expression on Malcolm’s face was in the forefront of my mind. The door to his room was partially closed. The sound of the running water filled my ears as I walked in. The bathroom door was wide open. Steam filtered out, creating a hazy cloud. I could see Malcolm through the clear shower door. He stood with his arms out, resting against the marble walls. His head hung low as he let the water beat down on him. I needed to make things right. I needed him.
Malcolm looked up in surprise when I opened the door and stepped inside. “Calida? What the hell are you doing?”
I ignored his question as I wrapped my arms around his waist, and laid my head against his naked torso. “You make me feel safe.”
I waited for his arms to close around me. They didn’t, so I held on tighter out of fear he’d push me away. Water pelted my face, blending with the tears that I let fall.
“I’m sorry. I know you said I apologize too much, but it’s all I can do. I don’t know why I freaked out. I don’t remember what happened other than the fact that I did, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for whatever I did or said. But please, I can’t take the silent treatment. I—”
“Shhh…” he said, finally returning my embrace. “Stop, baby, just stop and calm down.” Malcolm rubbed my back through my wet pajamas. “I wasn’t giving you the silent treatment. Why would you think that?”
“You didn’t try and talk to me. You always want to talk, but you didn’t. You could barely look at me. Like...like that morning.”
He let out an audible exhale then pressed his lips to the top of my wet hair. “I was giving you space.”
“Wha...what did I do?”
“You really don’t remember?”
I shook my head.
I wasn’t sure what he was figuring out, but it took him a while to finally answer my question. “You had a panic attack. Started hyperventilating and passed out.” His answer was short. His tone tense, like he was holding something back.
I blinked some of the water from my eyes. It was then I noticed scratches on his chest.
My fingers ran across them. “I did this?”
He didn’t answer. When I glanced up, he didn’t divert his eyes. Part of me wished he had. The anguish they held cut me to the bone. I wanted to run, to hide from it and him. The thoughts, the easy excuses I relied on all ran through my head. He deserved better. That one screamed the loudest. Running was easy. Running didn’t hurt.
No. I needed to fix this.
“Tell me all of it, Malcolm.”