Page 140 of The Other Side

My head peeks over my shoulder, the thudding of Brant’s boots resounding from his bedroom floor. All I want to do is dive into his arms.

My eyes glisten with the chains raveling around my body. I want to tell him there’s no number of words that could describe how proud I am of him. But they wouldn’t pay him justice.

How do you capture someone’s value when it never stops soaring?

Damn you, Dove.

I want to tell him his worries with Jesse are futile. I want to tell him exactly what’s been happening so he can be relieved.

But I know that if I do, I’d annihilate his life again. He’d play the aggressive hero, and I’d be left to live this life alone.

I was never meant to live it alone. I was always meant to live it with him.

I was meant to fight back.

I owe him that much.

I owe her that much.

Chapter 41

Callie Rae

I turn left from the faculty room, walking alongside the row of tall, red lockers. A freshly copied IEP is in my hand, and Cody’s parked at my office door.

I’m offering him a gentle smile as I inch closer. “Hi, Cody. Did you eat lunch first? Or are you eating it with me?”

“Hi, Ms. Montgomery. I already ate,” he says, cradling his binder under his arm.

I nod, hiking my brows. “Ooo, anything good?”

“They had mozzarella sticks today,” he adds.

A chuckle falls from me as I turn my key in the door lock. “You should have told me. I already ate,” I tease.

My hand pushes the heavy door open to allow Cody in first. The cozy, beige walls instantly frame us, the vibrant colors of the scattered posters popping about.

I round my long desk, and Cody occupies the chair in front of it. I rest my pile of papers on the finished wood and say, “So, talk to me about your day.”

I’m flipping my laptop open to type notes from this session. Cody shrugs, his attention dipped to his hands in his lap. They’re fiddling over his jeans when he answers, “It’s okay, I guess.”

“Why do you guess?”

He’s still showing me the top of his shaggy, black hair. “I got a ninety on my math test.”

My heart warms, a smile shedding from my face. “That seems like something to be really proud of.”

He’s quiet for a few moments. “I have to wait for my next visit with my dad.”

The warmth quickly cools when Cody mentions his incarcerated father.

“When is your next visit?” I ask.

“Next Friday,” he answers. His head wags just as his hands squeeze each other tighter. “I’m sick of always having to wait,” he sighs out, slapping his back to the rear of the chair.

His dark eyes finally land on mine, a brokenness buried behind them.

I tentatively nod, empathy radiating from my gaze. I silently tell him that I hear him. That his feelings are valid. But I’m always cautious to say that I understand. He might interpret that as me undermining the magnitude of his trauma.