The Redemption of Callie and Kayden Read Free Page B

colder than a freezer, but I walk aimlessly through the
    vacant campus before finally taking a seat on one of the frosted
    benches. It’s snowing but the tree branches create a canopy above
    my head. I open my journal, pull the top of my jacket over my
    nose, and begin to scribble down my thoughts, pouring out my
    heart and soul to blank sheets of paper because it’s therapeutic.

    I remember my sixteenth birthday like I remember how to
    add. It’s there locked away in my head whenever I need it,
    although I don’t use it often. It was the day I learned to drive. My
    mom had always been really weird about letting my brother and
    me anywhere near the wheel of a vehicle until we were old enough
    to drive. She said it was to protect us from ourselves and other
    drivers. I remember thinking how strange it was, her wanting to
    protect us, because there were so many things—huge,
    life-changing things—she’d never protected us from. Like the fact
    that my brother had been smoking pot since he was fourteen. Or
    the fact that Caleb raped me in my own room when I was twelve.
    Deep down, I knew it wasn’t her fault, but the thought always
    crossed my mind: Why hadn’t she protected me?

    So at sixteen, I finally got behind the driver’s seat for the very
    first time. I was terrified and my palms were sweating so badly I
    could barely hold onto the wheel. My dad had also had a lifted
    truck and I could barely see over the dash.

    “Can’t we please just drive mom’s car?” I asked my dad as I
    turned the key in the ignition.

    He buckled his seat belt and shook his head. “It’s better to
    learn on the big dog first, that way driving the car will be a piece of cake.”

    I buckled my own seat belt and wiped my sweaty palms on
    the front of my jeans. “Yeah, but I can barely see over the wheel.”

    He smiled and gave me a pat on the shoulder. “Callie, I know
    driving is scary, like life. But you’re perfectly capable of handling this; otherwise I wouldn’t let you.”

    I almost broke down and told him what happened to me on
    my twelfth birthday. I almost told him that I couldn’t handle it. That I couldn’t handle anything. But fear owned me and I pressed on
    the gas and drove the truck forward.

    I ended up running over the neighbor’s mailbox and proving
    my dad wrong. I wasn’t allowed to drive for the next few months
    and I was glad. Because to me driving meant growing up and I
    didn’t want to grow up. I wanted to be a child. I wanted to be
    twelve years old and still have the excitement of life and boys and
    kisses and crushes ahead of me.

    “Fuck, it’s freezing out here.”

    My head snaps up at the sound of Luke’s voice and I quickly
    shut my journal. He’s standing a few feet away from me with his
    hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans and the hood of his
    dark blue jacket tugged over his head.

    “What are you doing out here?” I ask, sliding my pen into the
    spiral of the notebook.

    His shoulders rise and fall as he shrugs and then he sits
    down beside me. He stretches his legs out in front of himself and
    crosses his ankles. “I got a random call from Seth telling me that I
    should come out here and check up on you. That you might need
    to be cheered up.”

    My gaze sweeps the campus yard. “Sometimes I wonder if he
    has spy cameras all over the place. He seems to know everything,
    you know.”

    Luke nods in agreement. “He does, doesn’t he.”

    I return his nod and then it grows quiet. Snowflakes drift
    down and our breath laces in front of our faces. I wonder why he’s
    really here. Did Seth tell him I needed to be watched?

    “You want to go somewhere?” Luke uncrosses his ankles and
    sits up straight. “I don’t know about you, but I could really use a
    break from this place.”

    “Yeah.” I don’t even hesitate, which surprises me. Does that
    mean I’m getting over my trust issues?

    He smiles genuinely, but there’s intensity in his eyes;
    something that’s