Page 59 of The Cruelest Kind of Hate
I keep my head lowered, using my hair to curtain my face. “I just need a moment to breathe.”
I don’t lean into his hand. I don’t look at Gage. I’m falling apart like a poorly built sandcastle crumbling under its own weight.
Even though Gage is great at giving me what I want, this time he doesn’t. He saysfuck itand brings me into his body, encasing my frame in his arms and soaking up the chill of my skin with the heat of his own.
“Breathe, baby. Please breathe,” he coos, rubbing the back of my head. “I’m sorry I pushed you to make a decision. I’m sorry that I set up this fucked-up ultimatum of me over your family. That was never my intention. I know you have a responsibility to your family. I just…I wanted to show you that you can have it all. You can balance that responsibility and balance your own life. You can live for others while still living for yourself.”
My fingernails gouge into his bare back like I never want to let go. “How am I supposed to do that?” I muffle into his shoulder.
“I don’t know, but I’m willing to help you figure it out. I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”
20
SHE LOVES ME, SHE LOVES ME NOT
GAGE
This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go, but like always, I have a tendency to fuck up all the good things in my life. And right in front of me is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
I have to remind myself that this girl isn’t just some figment of my imagination—that she’s the greatest blessing I could’ve ever received on this planet. That no human could’ve been conceived to be this perfect. That she must be some higher deity who’s given her hair color to California’s sunsets; that the constellations must’ve borrowed the formation of her freckles for their beauty; and that the ocean could never possibly rival the blue of her eyes.
Cali murmurs something unintelligible, a new layer of wetness signaling that her tears must have finally fallen and found purchase on my upper back. With our lack of clothing, I can feel the pummeling of her heart. I can hear it in the vacuum-seal of space we’re in, and it’s cathartic.
“My head and my heart want two different things,” Cali burbles, the clarity of her words obstructed by thickening saliva and sporadic sniffles.
We disentangle from each other, and the moment I see my girl’s gorgeous face, my heart sings for her attention, her touch, her love. Goops of mascara streak down her cheeks, and her red eyes suffer from burst capillaries. But despite the struggle on her face, I’ve never seen her look more beautiful. Raw.
“Which one is more important to you?” I dab at the leftover tears blemishing her pale complexion.
“I think…I think it’s my heart.”
To see Cali so numb, so drained—it cracks a fissure deep in my sternum, one close to splitting my heart at the seam. I want to be there for her, to prove to her that I’m not going anywhere, but I fear that her self-preservation instincts will keep me far away.
What are you supposed to do when you want to take care of someone who’s too afraid to let you?
“Then maybe you should listen to your heart.”
“But my heart’s selfish.”
“Humans are selfish by nature. That’s just a part of life, Spitfire. And I know you probably won’t believe me, but you’re the least selfish person I know,” I tell her, unable to tear my palm from the curve of her tear-softened cheek, anguish curdling in my stomach.
She bears desolation in the hard lines of her face, and it’s like I’m standing idly by as her inner light begins to dim, eclipsing her in perpetual darkness. Everything seems duller—her hair, her eyes, her posture.
She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t look up at me. Her eyes are downcast, finding interest in the smears of dirt that begrime the hallway floor.
“Calista.” I use a knuckle to tip her chin up so she finally looks at me, and immediately, affection twins with something deeper in my heart, leaving it in a state of disarray. “It’s okay to put yourself first. It’s okay to dream and want. It’s okay tobeselfish if you’ve been selfless for so long. But if you never go after what you want, you’ll never allow yourself the chance at a better life. The chance at ahappierlife.”
“I don’t want to let anyone down,” she wails.
“At this point, I think the only person you’re letting down is yourself. You play one of the most important roles in this whole equation. If you’re not taking care of yourself, then everything else falls to chaos. You’re the glue that holds your family together.”
Cali wraps her arms around her midsection, salty water refilling her eyes, distorting the darker blue rings of her irises. “I’m so tired of being the glue. I don’t want to be the glue for the rest of my life.”
“I know, baby. And you won’t be. Your mom’s going to be alright; you’ve done everything you can for her. And Teague will find his footing as he grows older,” I tell her, catching those sickle-shaped droplets as they begin to drip down. “And as for us, even though there isn’t really an ‘us,’ I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to show you that none of this works without you prioritizing your own happiness.”
Saying all these things to Cali—things that sound a lot wiser than I would’ve ever assumed myself capable of being—makes me realize that hockey isn’t my only purpose. After Trip, I was certain it was. Hell, I was so determined to get back on the ice after my injury that I went out of my way to take dance lessonsanddo physical therapy.
My purpose might’ve been hockey, but that all changed the moment I saw Cali. The moment she cussed me out and threatened me in front of half the local hockey community. The moment I realized that this girl has a hold on me unlike any other, and that even if she decides to let me go, I’ll run right back to her.
