Page 116 of Anarchy at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 4)
“You’ve been punishing yourself since Snow Day. That’s all this is, more of the same. You know that Vic would never betray you. All the same, you’re letting it get to you the way you let Kali get to you. But it’s not about Victor, and it’s not about Kali. Bernadette, this is about you. Stop hurting yourself. You don’t deserve it.”
I sit there quietly for several minutes, but I’m not sure how to respond to that. Yet again, Callum is right. When I close my eyes, I can hear his heart, a steady, even rhythm that makes me feel peaceful in a way I haven’t felt since the after-party.
“Can I stay here with you tonight?” I ask, and Cal’s fingers still in my hair. His breathing slows, hitches slightly. I open my eyes and glance up to find him watching me.
“I’d love that,” he replies, his tone warm. “I’ll admit, I was jealous as fuck that Hael got a sleepover before I did.” His beautiful mouth turns up at the corner in a teasing smile. “Last one to get fucked, last one to get a sleepover …”
“Oh, stop,” I murmur, sitting up and pushing my hair back from my face. If I’m staying here, then I need to call Aaron and let him know to pick Heather up. Heather. Fuck. By calling Havoc, I’ve made things so much more complicated for her. Neil was bad, but the GMP … Jesus. I can only imagine the state that Stacey’s dead girl was in when they found her. Briefly, I think about Aaron’s suggestion that we send the girls to Oak River.
I’m starting to think he’s right, and I hate myself for that, too. As Cal said, these last few weeks have been all about punishment, haven’t they?
Thinking about Heather makes me think about Pen, as it always does. And then I’m missing her so hard that my stomach hurts and my head throbs. I want her stuff back. I want it out of that fucking awful house, spirited away from all the nightmares that reside within those four walls.
“I need to get Penelope’s things back from my mother’s place,” I say, wondering when and how I’m going to manage that. Pam and I aren’t exactly on good terms right now.
Callum thinks for a moment and then encourages me to sit up. He’s off the bed and digging through his wardrobe again before I can figure out what exactly he’s up to. He takes a fresh hoodie out and slips it on.
I give him a look and a raised brow.
“We’ll go get it right now,” he says, turning around to look at me as he steps back into his boots and adjusts the laces. “In fact, we’ll make a game of it and rob the damn place.” He’s smiling again. Always smiling. He finds pleasure in me, looking at me, talking to me, fucking me. He’s found his light in the darkness. It’s a heavy burden to bear, so I exhale sharply. “That’s what we do best, Bernie.”
“Steal?” I ask, that one word strangely breathless, like a butterfly catching a breeze, its wings still, like two jeweled carpets stretched out on either side.
“Take back,” Cal corrects, offering me his hand.
I curl my fingers with his, reveling in this strange thing that is human connection. It’s so powerful that it steals the air from my lungs and the blood from my heart. All of it seems to rush to just one place, right between my thighs.
He pulls me off the bed and then pushes me into the wall without even trying. I lean back so that I’m resting against it, closing my eyes as Callum puts his hands on either side of my neck. He feels my pulse and sighs, his body shuddering as he leans his head back and closes his eyes.
“The feel of your pulse …” he starts, and I wonder if we’re both thinking about Danny Ensbrook, bleeding out on the floor of a haunted house. Behind Callum, I see Kali Rose, leering at me. A manifestation of my own self-doubt. Cal drops his head back down and then presses his mouth to the side of my neck, licking that throbbing beat of my pulse. “My whole goal in life is to keep this thrumming,” he tells me, pulling back and framing me with his hands. “That’s it.”
“Surely you’ve got dreams bigger than that?” I query back, but I’m having trouble finding my words, lost in eyes the color of the sky, or of the marbles Pen and I used to play with as kids. Eyes the color of pain and heartbreak, eyes clouded by affection and love.
“Bigger than romance?” he repeats back, laughing at me, that husky, dark sound curling around me like smoke. Callum doesn’t even use the door. Instead, he turns away and heads for the window, pushing it open and then glancing back at me before he hops out. “Bigger than love?”
