Mistakes I’ve Made by Jordan Marie
35Callie
“Let me go in there with you, Bluebird.”
“It will make him worse,” I murmur to Reed while staring at my front door.
“So? I’ll be there to protect you and that’s all that matters.”
“But—”
“No buts, besides, you need me to help carry the boxes we left yesterday, right?” he says, and I know he’s right. My heart beats crazily. I know that, in all likelihood, Reed will probably hear exactly how Niles feels about me if we do this.
The sun is setting. I know Reed is worn out because he worked all day. He took off early to wash up and come with me. He didn’t want me to be alone. He doesn’t even know everything that has gone on, but he’s worried about me enough to take off work and come here with me—even when he’s been up since five this morning and worked like a dog. I look at him and feel my heart swell with love, even while I’m worried about how bad it’s going to be when I go inside.
It’s been two days since Reed surprised me with the apartment. I’ve been packing my bags each of those days and now my clothes are all at the new place. I have a few boxes of stuff in my room, which is mostly stuff from school and small things my mother got me before she got so sick. There are also a few photos. It really doesn’t amount to much. You’d think at eighteen there would be more to pack. I’m slowly beginning to realize that I’ve been trying to my best to not take up much room my whole life—not wanting to upset Niles.
Maybe I’ve known all my life that I didn’t belong here. That the man I thought was my father never wanted me around—even before my mother got sick.
As we walk into what used to be my house, my palms are sweaty, and I feel sick to my stomach. Reed has hold of my hand, trying his best to reassure me. I find myself wishing that Niles wasn’t here.
How many times have I wished that over the years?
Opening the door, the normal creaking noise it makes seems abnormally loud.
“It’s going to be okay, Bluebird,” Reed murmurs. I look at him, and I do my best to hold onto his words.
I quietly lead Reed upstairs to my room. Reed doesn’t question me about coming here first. Truthfully, I know I’m putting off seeing Mom and Niles to last. I can’t help it. If I had my way, I’d just move out and not have this confrontation at all. There are two small boxes on my bed and Reed goes and picks them up. I swallow nervously as I watch him. He turns and walks toward me. His face is tender as he stands in front of me. He shifts the weight of the boxes onto one arm as he uses his other to squeeze my good hand. Until he did that, I didn’t notice I had my hand clenched into a fist.
“It’s going to be okay,” he repeats. I look up into his eyes.
“You’re sure about this?” I whisper, my panic and nerves bleeding through my words.
“I’m more than sure, Callie. Remember?” he asks. I frown, my brow crinkling because I don’t understanding what I’m supposed to remember. “Forever and ever.”
I nod. “Forever and ever.” We start to walk to the door, and this sick feeling in my stomach just keeps getting worse. I’m scared, maybe even terrified and I don’t even understand why—at least not completely. Then, it hits me. “Reed?” I ask, my heart beating wildly. I stop walking and Reed does too, turning to look at me.
“What’s wrong, Callie?”
“Are you sure you want this? That you want me? What if you get tired of me? What if you decide I’m not enough? What if you decide you want something or someone else more?”
“Callie, stop. That’s not going to happen.”
“If it does, you’d tell me, right? You wouldn’t live your whole life feeling like you were trapped with me? You’d tell me?”
“Where is this coming from, Bluebird?”
“Just promise me, Reed. Promise you will tell me if you decide this doesn’t work out. Promise me you won’t feel trapped and just keep me around because you feel like you don’t have a choice.”
“I don’t understand,” he says. I figure he will when we confront Niles, but for now, I just need his reassurance.
“Just promise me,” I practically beg.
“I promise, Bluebird. I promise. Please don’t worry,” he says, and I think that’s an impossible thing to ask me right now, but I let him kiss my forehead and I drink in his tenderness.
It’s selfish, but I really need it right now.