CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
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Ella
I'd been drifting in limbo for hours, trapped somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, when the sound of a door clicking open caught my attention. I opened my eyes from where I was lying on my side facing the open door of the guest room to see Calder slipping quietly out of his bedroom. He was fully clothed with a dark hooded sweatshirt pulled up over his head. His body was rigid and tense as he carefully closed the door, then disappeared down the hallway.
I sat up and glanced at the small alarm clock on the nightstand to see that it was almost two A.M. I frowned, wondering what he was doing up like this in the middle of the night. A sudden feeling of disquiet fell over me, and on instinct I climbed out of bed to follow him. Violet was still asleep and didn't even notice me get up. I left the room, closing the door on my way out.
I padded silently across the hardwood floor through the darkened house as I trailed the sound of Calder's footsteps down to the first floor. I glanced out the window as I walked into the living room. It was dark and still outside, the storm that was now long gone having left quiet peacefulness in its wake. I looked to my right toward the kitchen just as his back disappeared into the mud room that led to his garage. I frowned after him. I heard a faint metallic rattling that I think was the sound of Calder pulling his keys off the hook on the wall near the door into the garage. Was he leaving? Why? I hurried into the kitchen after him, that disquieted feeling now intensifying into dread.
I crossed the kitchen then cut swiftly through the tiled mud room and caught the door into the garage just before it swung closed. I stepped into the garage to see Calder hurrying around to the driver's side door of his Tesla. Some deep gut feeling was telling me that I couldn't let him leave.
"Calder?" I called out in a panicked tone as I reached over to the nearby wall to flip on the lights.
He startled, his keys clattering to the concrete floor with a loud crash as he whirled to face me. The harsh lighting revealed a guilty expression on his face and stark pain glittering in his eyes.
"Where are you going?" I demanded sharply.
"I...I..." he stammered as his eyes began darting around the room, looking at anything but me. "I...I just needed to run an...an errand," he continued lamely.
"At two in the morning?" I gaped at him in utter confusion.
He began to fiddle nervously with the sleeve over the crook of his left elbow, his demeanor stiff and obviously uncomfortable. My eyes shot down to the frantic motion of his fingers, and realization slammed into me like a fist. I gasped and met his eyes again.
"Calder," I said in a quavering voice. "Are you...are you going out to use again?"
Shame enveloped his features for a brief moment, silently answering my question before he quickly schooled his expression into that same blank and shuttered mask he wore last night.
"Why?" I asked softly.
"Go back to bed," he growled out as he bent to snatch his keys up off the floor.
"No," I replied vehemently.
"Just let me go," he snarled out. For some reason, I sensed a deeper meaning to his words.
"No," I said fiercely as I stubbornly crossed my arms over my chest. "I'm not letting you do this."
He met my gaze again, this time with bitterness flooding his eyes. "Why do you care?" he asked harshly as pain glittered in his crystalline blue eyes.
I flinched, startled and hurt by his unexpected and hostile tone, but still held my ground. "You're not doing this, Calder," I insisted sternly. "You're not. I won't let you."
He gritted his teeth together, then swore viciously as he threw his keys back down on the garage floor. He surged forward and pushed past me through the door into the house. I followed right on his heels, intent on getting to the bottom of this sudden change in his behavior. This wasn't the Calder I remembered, or the one I'd spent so much time with lately. Something was seriously wrong.
I practically ran to keep up with his long purposeful strides, and I didn't catch up with him until he was halfway across the living room. I grabbed his arm to stop him, but he snarled and yanked himself out of my grip. I stumbled, and thumped onto the floor on my hands and knees with a soft whimper.
Calder gasped. "Ella," he called out worriedly, instantly dropping to his knees on the floor next to me. His hands gripped my shoulders gently. I looked up to meet his pained and anguished expression. "Are you okay, baby?"
I sobbed and shook my head as sudden tears stung my eyes that had nothing to do with my fall. He pulled me closer and cradled me in his strong arms.
"I'm sorry, baby," he murmured softly into my hair. "So sorry."
I sobbed even harder at the repeated endearment, and how good it felt to be held by him, but it wasn't real. None of this was real. He didn't love me. He couldn't love me, and when he held me and talked to me like that, it made me long for things I couldn't have.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked pleadingly.
He stiffened at my words, then abruptly stood and set me down on my feet. He stepped away and faced the windows, rubbing his thumb across his lower lip as he shifted nervously from foot to foot. I noticed that he was trembling. Finally, he dropped his hand and let out a defeated sigh as he turned to meet my gaze with a lost and forlorn expression.
"The...the cravings...they never really ever go away, and I can usually manage them," he said, misinterpreting my question's actual meaning. "But...but if I'm exposed to a trigger or when I'm under a lot of stress, it makes them harder to cope with and easier to give in to them."
"What stress?" I stared at him in confusion. "What trigger?" He always seemed so calm and in control all the time.
His brows furrowed for a moment, and then he looked at me with a pained and pointed expression. Dawning understanding suddenly fell over me, and I gasped, slapping my hand over my mouth. I let out a hiccuping sob and jerked away from him as my eyes flew wide in horror. Oh, my God, it was me. I was the stress. I was the trigger. Just like I was twelve years ago. I was doing it all over again, and why? Because I selfishly wanted to feel loved again, wanted again. But at what cost to Calder? Guilt like I'd never known before slammed into me like a fist straight into my heart. It sucked the air from my lungs and dropped me to my knees, where I began crying hysterically.
Calder was right there again, scooping me up off the floor and into his arms. He carried me over to the sectional sofa and sat down, cuddling me close to his chest and murmuring sweet words of comfort that I didn't deserve.
"I'm...I'm so sorry," I sobbed out desolately when I was finally capable of speech. "I never wanted to hurt you again, but I was selfish. I just...I just wanted to feel wanted and needed." I sniffled pathetically, before continuing to babble. "I tried to stay away. I should have stayed away today. I know you'll never love me again, so I'll stay away like I should have all along." Pain knifed through my chest at the thought of never seeing him again, but it had to be done. I wouldn't be the reason he turned to drugs again.
"What?" he whispered in confusion.
"I...I love you too much to ruin your life again," I sobbed out without thinking.
Calder stilled, and I realized exactly what I'd just blurted. Oh God. I struggled out of his arms, horrified by my confession and wanting to get away from him. How pathetic must he think I was, how stupid. I was mortified. I rushed away from him, and made a beeline for the glass door out to the patio, and hurried outside onto the wet concrete. I went to the glass railing, and grasped the top of it, needing something solid to hold onto for fear I'd collapse under the weight of my guilt and shame. I stood there gasping in the cool and clean night air as I continued sobbing, my chest heavy and my throat tight.
What had I done? I'd probably just made him feel worse. I might as well have handed him some heroin myself. My God, I needed to get out of here. Leave him in peace before I drove him to overdose and die. I couldn't live with that anymore than I could live what I did to him twelve years ago.
"Ella," Calder said behind me. "Did you mean it?" His voice was hoarse and laced with tension. "Do you...do you love me?"
I couldn't speak past the almost strangling lump in my throat. I looked up to meet his eyes, noticing his furrowed brows, his intense eyes, and the tight line of his gorgeous mouth, and knew that I loved him. I loved him with all my heart. I always had, always would, even though I knew he would never love me back again. I nodded jerkily in reply. What was the point of denying it now? The damage was already done.