Though I leave Melissa’s session feeling mentally and physically drained, I also leave feeling more focused than when I started.
Maybe I can do this after all.
I just need to fix myself.
If only I knew where to start.
Josie’s waiting for me in the parking lot as promised. My clothes, my car keys, and everything I own are in my house, and Paul hasn’t left all day. I hate relying on Josie to drive me around, but there’s no room for pride right now. She’s my best friend, and I need her.
“Dan is with Paul right now,” she says when I buckle myself into the passenger seat. “You and I will go in there together to get your stuff. You can talk to him if you feel ready to, but I’ll be by your side. I won’t leave you alone with him.”
I nod as the knots in my stomach pull tighter.
Will Paul be angry? Will he beg for me to come back home? Will he feed me more empty promises?
More importantly, will I crumble under the guilt of his heartache?
Stay strong, Callie.
You’ve come this far.
Be brave.
Callie the Courageous.
Cole’s wrestling nickname for me has become an anchor of strength. I know it’s silly. It probably meant nothing more than clever alliteration to him. But it meant something to me. The way he looked into my eyes when he said it that night made me feel seen. His gaze pierces through my armor of lies—always has, since the day we met—and he hears the words I leave unspoken.
How? How can someone I barely know make me feel so understood?
I still don’t know Cole’s whole story, the burden he carries around like a heavy cross on his back. But I want to. And maybe therein lies my problem. I want to bear the weight of everyone’s problems except my own.
As we roll to a stop in front of my house, I decide it’s time to focus on my problems, once and for all. Face my demons.
Face him.
Josie lets me lead and follows me up the walkway. I’m unsure if I should knock or walk in. I hesitate, and then Dan swings open the door to spare me.
“Hi, Callie. He’s in the living room.”
“Thanks, Dan.”
At the sound of my voice, Maverick comes galloping into the foyer. His legs slide out from under him as he struggles for traction on the tile. I bend down to meet him, and he leaps into my arms, frantic as he licks my face.
I bury my face in his fur. “I know, bud. I’ve missed you too. It’s okay. I know.”
“He’s been beside himself since you left.”
My head snaps up at the sound of Paul’s voice, and I gasp when I catch sight of his face. Both eyes are swollen, the left completely shut, and deep-purple bruises line his cheeks and jaw.
“Jesus,” Josie whispers behind me.
I push to my feet and take a few tentative steps.
Paul rushes toward me, arms outstretched, and a sob escapes him. I remain where I stand and let him wrap his arms around me, engulfing me in his embrace.
“We’ve both been a mess here without you. I’m so sorry, Callie. I’m sorry. Please believe me.”
He crushes me against his body, tighter with each passing second. I pat his back gently to console him, absorbing his raw emotion pouring out and making it my own. Tears threaten to spill over my lids, but I blink up to the ceiling to keep them at bay.
He finally releases me and edges back, only a little. “You seem happier to see Maverick than you do me.”
“Can you blame her?” Josie interjects before I can say a word. “Maverick didn’t strangle her the other night. You did.”
“Josie, please.” I reach out and squeeze her hand. “I’ve got this.”
She shakes her head at him, her top lip curled into a snarl. “We let you around our children. We let you into our home. And this is what you’re really like? This is what you’ve been doing to Callie all this time?”
Paul runs his fingers through his disheveled hair, pulling at the ends of it. “I’m sorry, Josie. I’m sorry about everything.”
“Yeah, well, so am I. I’m sorry Callie ever fucking met you.”
Dan wraps his arm around her waist. “Come on. That’s enough. Cal, we’ll be in the kitchen if you need us.”
Josie whips her head over her shoulder. “So don’t try anything, asshole. You think my brother beat you badly? I’ll rip your dick off so fast you won’t even know what hit you!”
I cringe, covering my face with my hands as Dan ushers her into the next room.
Paul blows out a breath through his lips. “Do you want to sit so we can talk?”
I nod and follow him toward the couch. “I don’t know where to begin,” I admit, taking a seat on the cushion beside him.
“Then let me.” He takes my hands into his and stares down at them. “I’m so sorry, Callie. I know you’ve heard it before, and you probably don’t believe me, but I truly am sorry for hurting you.”
“I know you are.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “You do?”
“I know you regret putting your hands on me. I know this isn’t something you take pleasure in. But apologizing doesn’t do anything to fix the problem, Paul. An apology becomes a lie if you keep doing the thing you’re sorry for.”
He nods. “I get it. Just tell me what I can do to fix this. I want to fix it, Callie. I don’t want to lose you.”
“I don’t know how to fix the kind of problem you have. I think you need to go to therapy, or anger management.”
“Done. I’ll do it. I’ll go tomorrow.”
I chew my bottom lip.
“Is that enough?” he asks. “If I get help, will that make you come back home?”
“I ... I don’t know.”
His head jerks back. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t know.” I pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and my index finger. “I don’t have a solution. I don’t have an answer for you. All I do know is that you need help, and so do I.”
His hand clamps over my knee. “We can go together. We can work through this. I know we can.”
“I think we need to go separately before we can go together.”
“Fine. I’ll go alone. Whatever you want me to do, it’s done.”
That doesn’t sit right with me. “Paul, do you realize what you just said?”
His head tilts. “What?”
“You said you’ll do whatever I want you to do. But this isn’t about what I want. This is about what you need. What you should want for yourself. I don’t want you to go to therapy because you think that’s what will get me to forgive you. I want you to go to therapy because you want to.”
“You know what I mean, Callie. Of course I want to go and get help.”
“Why now? Why not last month, or the month before that, or last year? Why do you suddenly have the urge to go to therapy?”
“Because you left. Because I realize now that I’m going to lose you if I don’t stop and change.”
My heart sinks. “And if I had never left? Then you’d be perfectly fine hurting me and going around and around this sick merry-go-round we’re on?”
Paul shakes his head emphatically. “You’re twisting my words. I never said that.”