UNEDITED
Calla Henrik's family runs the best ATV business in town, and she's ready to take over the family business for the summer while her parents go on a much-needed vacation. She's ready to earn some money before she attends the University of A...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Calla
I'm in a pissy mood this morning. When Vance arrived early with Tim Horton's coffee and doughnuts, I may or may not have told him to fuck off. He immediately backed away and headed over to Maddox's campsite. Hopefully, he was treated better over there. I feel bad about how I treated him, but last night's argument has me on edge; I said some words I didn't mean and now I'm regretting them. I hurt Maddox's feelings and couldn't keep my nose out of his business. But I can't handle seeing him this way; battered and so severely bruised it's difficult for him to move. How am I supposed to help him when he won't allow me to? As a couple, we're supposed to confide in each other—trust each other. It's clear, despite our relationship, Maddox doesn't trust me. I don't know where we stand after last night's incident, and I'm not in the mood to stalk over to his campsite and demand answers. My ignorance is too potent.
As I'm rounding up my riding gear—I need to get out of here and clear my head—I glance at Maddox and Vance. They're sitting at the picnic table, which I can see a sliver of through the abundance of pine trees. Three coffees sit in the middle of the table, along with the box of doughnuts and the new neon-orange Fox Racing hat Vance bought for Maddox. From the limited view I have, I see Vance hunched and leaning over the table. Maddox sits across from him, his face in his hands as he shakes his head. My heart longs to stride over to the picnic table, but I resist the temptation. If I go over there, I'm only going to worsen our problems; I'm going to say shit I'll later regret.
It's difficult to turn away as I shrug my backpack over my shoulders and ignore the magnetic pull between us. Although I hate seeing his face bruised, I want to study it and pick out all the things I love: his dark-green eyes, sharp cheekbones, and the dimple in his cheek. I want to ask him how he's capable of hiding the inner turmoil that haunts him. How he hasn't allowed all this trauma to turn him sour.
All I can think about now is a memory of Maddox from high school, his head bowed down, picking up my textbook after it was knocked from my hands. No one cared about the new students scattered throughout the busy hallways. Until he picked up my textbook and handed it to me. The textbook was heavy, though I can't remember which one it was, because all I remember is the devilishly handsome smile on his face and the kindness in his eyes.
Life has been cruel to him, and I'll never be able to fathom how he stays true to his moral compass. He's a problem I want to solve. I know that's my thing—trying to solve and fix problems. Whether it's a trail being blocked by a tree or a faulty dirt bike engine, it doesn't matter. And sometimes I go overboard. Sometimes, people like Maddox have to tell me that some things aren't my problem to solve. But this one feels like it is. I've been wanting to solve that problem since the moment he handed me my textbook.
For Vance, it's probably been longer. I wonder how many times he's seen Maddox bruised and battered; how many times Maddox has made him promise not to tell anyone what really happened. Although people were aware of the abusive relationship between Maddox and his dad in high school, there were always rumours regulating about him taking an elbow to the face when he played basketball or wiping out during a dirt biking expedition. Did Vance help spread these rumours or was it Maddox, trying to direct the attention to anything but his father?
