The Love I Found

Chapter 8

This was crazy. Everything about tonight had been crazy, and I didn't know what I was supposed to do with it all. What I did know, however, was that Cal had rescued me. He had told me that he'd be there for me, and he had been telling the truth.

"Do you trust me?" he asks me softly, and I know that right now he is the only person I fully trust.

I nod.

Cal smiles, though he looks far from happy. "Great, now put a shirt on." He drops his strong hands from my shoulders. "I'll be right back."

He moves for the door, and I almost throw the blanket from my shoulders to the ground in my effort to reach for him. I catch a hold of his shirt and cling to it, desperately wanting him to stay with me. I don't want him to leave me alone even for a minute.

He turns back to me with a soft groan. I think he's going to tell me to let go of his shirt and listen to him, but instead, he reaches behind his back and places his hand over the one I have bunched around a fistful of cotton.

"Put on a shirt, Emy," he instructs again with a quiet, almost pleading voice. "I'll wait right here and then we'll go together, yah?"

That sounds like a better plan. My fingers release their hold, and Cal moves his hand from its place on top of mine.

"Okay... Thanks, Cal."

He gives a simple nod, and I step away to get a shirt from my dresser.

Once I am dressed, I walk back to Cal and he takes my hand. He tugs me along to his bedroom where he begins rummaging around his small closet.

He pulls out a black backpack which is already a little over halfway full. Then he crosses the room to his nightstand and pulls out a small pocket knife. He deposits the knife into his pocket and walks back to my side, once again taking my hand and tugging me along.

"We can't take a lot. It will slow us down. Summer is almost over, so you're going to want a sweater. Pants. Bring your warmest pair of socks and, you know, the other necessities."

My brain isn't allowing proper words or thoughts to form. I nod, and Cal pulls me to a stop outside of my bedroom doorway. He signals for me to stay put and be quiet while he releases my hand.

I keep my eyes glued to his back as he walks across the room to Mr. Scott's body. He crouches down and lifts a hand to press two fingers to the skin on the man's neck. It looks like he's checking for a pulse.

I hold my breath and wait for Cal to nod or shake his head, to do something to indicate whether or not the man is still alive. When he stays perfectly still with his head bent down in concentration, I get nervous and step into the room.

"Cal?" I step closer to him. "Is he... ?"

Cal's head shoots up, and he stares at me with no expression as he stands up again. "Yah, he'll be fine."

He walks back to me and wraps an arm around my shoulders, steering me away from the heap of a man on the floor and walking me toward my dresser. 

"We need to move quickly, Emy. I want to make it to the bus station before Mrs. Scott gets back here." He hands me the backpack.

I nod again and begin opening drawers.

Cal knows what he is talking about. He made this plan weeks ago, so this isn't a spur of the moment thing. Soon, I would be out of this nightmare, and this entire night would be nothing more than the night Cal Jones became my saviour.

It doesn't take much to fill the backpack. I hand it back to Cal who promptly zips it up and swings it onto his shoulder. He grabs my hand once again and begins pulling me toward the door, but I stop when we begin to walk past the blanket that I left on the floor.

"Should we take this too?" I ask hesitantly.

Cal looks down at the blanket, then back up to me with smiling eyes. He stoops down to pick it up and drapes it loosely around my neck like a large scarf. "I knew you weren't just a pretty thing to look at," he murmurs as he taps a finger lightly against my temple.

I feel my cheeks turning red again. Compliments from Cal are music to my ears. I could stand here and bask in the moment forever if it wasn't so important to get out of here.

This time, I'm the one to grip Cal's hand. He turns his palm to wrap his fingers over mine and gives them a small squeeze and then leads me back into the hallway.

As we near the bathroom, he says, "Guess you'll need a toothbrush too, huh? I only have one packed. I've got toothpaste. You're on your own if you want floss. And, whatever else."

He swings the backpack off his shoulder again and sets it on the bathroom floor just inside the door. "You going to be okay if I—" He stops talking when he sees my face. "Fuck, nevermind."

I had willingly stepped into the bathroom to gather my things, but when Cal started to sound like he was going to leave, I was stepping toward him again in a heartbeat. Thankfully, he sensed my unease, and my panic subsides when he decides to stick close.

I feel like a big baby, making him stay within a five-foot radius of me, but when I think about the alternative, I'm sure that I'll turn into a useless, crying mess.

I try to move quickly, and once the backpack is zipped closed, it is once again swung onto Cal's shoulder. He weaves his opposite arm into the second strap as we descend the stairs.

I begin to walk toward the front door, but Cal has turned the opposite way toward the kitchen. My feet nearly skid on the floor in my haste to stop, but when I turn around to follow him, Cal is already shaking his head.

"I'm just going to grab some water bottles. Get your shoes on."

I want to argue. I want to cling to him and beg him to stay right beside me. But the look on his face tells me that he isn't going to be so easily convinced this time. 

He points to the front door. "I'm going to be right there, Emy. Before your shoes are even on your feet. Just go to the door. Put your fucking shoes on." He is walking away from me as he speaks, and I don't miss the sound of exasperation in his voice.

I can do this. 

I watch him turn the corner, and I give my head a little shake as if that is going to help me think clearly. My heart races as I move the short distance to the front entranceway.

I have a pair of running shoes and a pair of rubber boots. Running shoes seem like the best option. Then again, if I can only take one pair, wouldn't it be a smart decision to wear the ones that are waterproof?

Nobody likes wet feet.

I step into one of my bright yellow boots and am reminded of how uncomfortable they are. They are also awkward to walk in.

"What am I thinking?" I mumble out loud to myself. Running shoes are the logical choice. I step into one of my beaten-up shoes.

"Second thoughts?"

Cal's low, quiet question makes me jump, and I spin around to face him with my hands clutching over my heart. "Cal!" I hiss, feeling the need to whisper, "You scared the crap out of me!"

He quirks an eyebrow and stares out of the front door which is still wide open from his panicked entrance earlier. He looks back at me and then down at my feet.

I'm standing here with a bright yellow boot on my right foot and a black, beaten-up sneaker on my left. I feel ridiculous. "No second thoughts. I'm just... I should probably go with running shoes, shouldn't I?"

He nods. "Probably."

I think I see him frowning, but when I look closer, it seems as though he is trying to suppress a smile.

"What?" I ask. With the way he is looking at me, I feel like I should be asking if there is food stuck in my teeth.

"You," he says simply.

I don't know what he means by that, but it sort of feels like a compliment.

Author's Note: The plot is plotting! How do we feel about our characters so far? What do we think of the story? I'd love to hear any of your thoughts.
Thanks for reading! ❤️