Why would he bother?
I shake my head sadly.
“Roland, no. That’s j-just compounding lies with lies. And that’s kinda what got us into this m-mess” I stammer, dropping my face. “Plus, it’s giving Haydn exactly what he wants. Your d-downfall. I won’t l-lie, Roland. Not to save myself. I c-can’t. Everything I d-d-did with you was...it was because I w-wanted to.” I bite my lip. “Even if it was way more than a fling f-for me, I c-can’t lie. I can’t hide m-my own willing participation.”
I’m not just tongue-tripping now.
Pure sadness digs at my throat, slurring whole words.
Roland freezes, staring at me, something wretched shining in his eyes.
“Fling? You think it was just a goddamned fling for me?” he growls.
Now I smile, but it hurts, my chest knotting up.
“Wasn’t it?”
“Callie, no.”
There it is.
I wait and wait and wait some more...but he doesn’t elaborate.
There’s a flash of naked emotion on his face, quick as lightning before it’s gone. That suit of armor falls to cut off his feelings.
Which tells me everything.
I wasn’t anything at all to him.
If I was, he wouldn’t shut down like someone just yanked out his battery.
“You shouldn’t pay for my mistakes, I mean,” he says quietly. “The trouble with Haydn is my problem. Mine exclusively. Not yours, Callie, even if I involved you too much. You shouldn’t take any flak for my bullshit.”
“T-too late. I already took a whole carpet bombing. S-some things can’t be undone. It’s not f-fair, Roland...but when is life ever fair?”
He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose for several seconds.
“So you won’t let me do anything to fix this?”
“I can’t stop you...but I w-won’t be part of this.” I shake my head, my trembling fingers tightening on the sunbaked metal railing, small hints of painted-over rust biting into my palms. “B-besides...this isn’t just about us. We’re forgetting something way m-more important.”
“More important? What?” he asks like he can’t believe it exists.
“We made a mistake that w-we’ll both recover from, but Easterly might not. The other girls Haydn hurt deserve justice,” I say, steeling my voice. “If you want to fight for something, if you want to f-fix this...then fight for th-them. Not for us. Not f-for your busted ego, or mine. You c-can’t fight for something that w-was never real.”
It tears my heart out to say it.
And I can’t stand the stricken look on his face, the agony, that suit of armor splitting in the worst possible way.
God, I have to go.
Even as he calls “Callie!” after me, I run.
I stumble back inside, slamming the doors behind me as I go blind. I’m barely able to throw myself on the bed without crashing into something.
The tears I’ve been holding in finally burst out in a downpour of heartbreak, and I cry so hard into the pillow I drown.
24
Hole In The Soul (Roland)
Somehow, I feel like if I could make Barrett understand the shit I’m going through, he’d laugh until I was laughing, too.
Because sometimes there’s nothing you can do when your world falls apart except laugh like you’re losing your mind. Life is and always will be a hot fucking wreck.
You never know when it’s time for your roller coaster to go flying off its rails.
I used to think I was in control of my world.
Correction: the world.
Manipulation according to a long, exacting plan worked like a charm for too long. It put me where I needed to be to strike and take down the man who ruined my brother’s life. Nothing was beyond my reach while the stars aligned.
Until I reached too damned far.
Suddenly, everything snapped back on me in a foaming tidal wave of shit.
I had everything.
Now, I have nothing.
I’m entirely alone, with no one left to even laugh at my pathetic fate to blow off its grim reality.
I stare out my office window, watching the sun rise in a blaze of spearing rays beyond the imposing towers of the Chicago skyline.
No, I haven’t been home.
I stayed up all night working because there’s nothing for me at home.
I’ve been busy combing every legal precedent I can find. Looking for a smoking gun that will help me stop the feeding frenzy my rivals are having at Callie’s expense.
So far, that smoking gun feels weaker than a candle wick.
There’s nothing.
Just brutal fucking irony.
The same tactic I’ve used to defeat a thousand lawsuits before is tripping me up, leaving me powerless to do anything to defend her.
All because I let Vance Haydn find my weakness.
Because I let him outwit me.
Because I let him hurt her, and then I went and made it ten times worse like the dumb buffalo I am.
Why couldn’t I just say it in New Orleans?
When she asked, why didn’t I tell her it was so much more than a fling?
So fucking much that I should’ve screamed it from the rooftops until my lungs blew out.