The Cruelest Kind of Hate (Riverside Reapers Book 3)
The Cruelest Kind of Hate: Chapter 13

CALISTA

I shouldn’t have asked to go home with Gage. I shouldn’t have asked to be anywhere near him, but I couldn’t be in that apartment—the one still fresh with the smell of my mother’s sick body.

It’s my fault that she’s in the hospital. I should’ve been looking after her. I should’ve been there instead of playing pretend with some guy. This is what I was trying to avoid. I chose my social life over my mother’s life, and now she’s paying for my selfish decision. I deserve to be the one perishing in that hospital bed, not her. And Teague…God, Teague. He shouldn’t have seen her like that. I had another duty aside from saving my mom—protecting my brother. And I failed both of them in the span of a single night.

Although I’m swallowed by Gage’s hoodie, it doesn’t provide me with solace. I’m a fucking disaster.

I don’t bother turning on Gage’s light. My flaming eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and my clamoring heart hides in the shadows of my ribs—hides from the pitiful and wounded look I know will greet me.

I sit with the afterburn of guilt; I sit with the slow-drying tears wetting my cheeks; I sit with the hollow pain of hunger clenching in my belly. I ram my fingernails into my palms until the surface breaks and colors my skin in rouge half-crescents. I deserve to hurt; I deserve to starve; I deserve to be punished.

There’s a polite knock on the door, unneeded to enter one’s own room, and an empty gesture all the same as the partition creaks open and lets a sliver of light in.

Gage, with his muscled body, irradiates in front of me in a soft, golden glow, startling the nest of nerves inside me. The sanctity of darkness has been stripped away, leaving me proverbially naked and bared to moral scrutiny.

“I left Teague with Fulton downstairs,” Gage tells me, the evergreen of his eyes overcast with an unparalleled murkiness. “They’re playing video games.”

Even though I’m staring straight at him, I don’t say anything. All I’ve ever wanted is to make my brother happy. And it always seems that I can only do so when I’m far away from him.

Fluxes of bated breath bury themselves in my lungs, words smudging their chalky graininess over my parched tongue. My whole body is hot despite the breeze from the open window, and unending moisture laves my eyes, searching for skin to chafe.

Gage looks just as bad as I feel. His face is bunched with worry and frown lines alike, there’re purple shadows under his eyes, and tufts of hair stick out in an untamed mess. “Can we talk?” he whispers cautiously, as if he’s afraid the weight of the question will clobber me.

I was planning to nod, but I’m shocked when my voice box gyrates. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

His large hand cards through the front of his hair, a hefty sigh prying open his lips. “I know you don’t want to talk to me right now, Cali. But you can’t do this. You can’t shut me out.”

I don’t want to. My heart doesn’t want to. But closing myself off is the only defense mechanism I have. Keeping Gage in my life will only complicate it more, and I’m afraid that if I continue to get lost in him, I’ll never replace my way back to my mother, to my brother—to my normal life.

I turn away from Gage’s gaze, feeling the tears return with a vengeance.

He strides over to me hastily, grabs my hands in his, no doubt prepares a heartrending speech that’ll change my mind, then looks down at my palms. His thumb smears the tiny bubbles of blood from my self-inflicted cuts, and a cry gargles in his throat.

“Don’t do that, Calista,” he begs. “Please don’t do that.”

I pull my hands away from his, hiding the lacerations beneath his oversized hoodie sleeves, the self-pity in my gut flickering into an enraged fire. “Why? I deserve it.”

“You don’t. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It’s my fault she’s in the hospital. None of this would’ve happened if I’d been taking care of her like I was supposed to.”

“She’s been sick for a long time. You couldn’t have known it would get this bad,” he murmurs, abandoning his attempt to hold my hands and sitting beside me on the mattress. The woodsy scent of his cologne embraces me like I know he wants to, rousing my heart while my brain tries to corral every defiant, pesky emotion rising in its wake.

A growl rolls around in my chest. “I did know. I’m responsible for her now. When I got involved with you, I chose myself over her. After everything she’s done to take care of me.”

Hurt washes over his face, but he does his best to wipe the slate clean. “You shouldn’t blame yourself for wanting to live your life. And you’re doing the best you can as her sole source of income. You shouldn’t have to choose between being free and being indebted to her,” he says, fine-tuning the agony in his tone. “She wouldn’t want you to live like this. You know that.”

“You don’t know anything, Gage,” I sneer. “You don’t know her. You don’t know what my mother wants. I’m not indebted to her!”

Why is he trying to make me the good guy? I’m not the good guy. I didn’t ask him to spew bullshit and make me feel better. Anger mangles my guts, scoops out viscera like the metal claw on an excavator. My chest begins to stutter with thin breaths, and my vision winks in and out of focus, bile soddening my throat.

“Shit, no. That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry,” he immediately apologizes, tipping his head back and showing me the tremble of his Adam’s apple. “I just…I need you to know that you’ve done everything you can to give her the best life possible. She wouldn’t still be alive if that wasn’t the case.”

“She’s barely alive,” I respond, staring at his bedroom floor.

Gage, with his stupid, inextinguishable determination, manages to capture my hands in an unyielding grip, forcing me to turn my attention to him. “Spitfire…”

“She’d be better off dead.”

He slips his fingers around my nape, pulling my face close to his. Our foreheads touch, and our breaths mingle in an almost kiss. “Stop. Stop it. I know you don’t mean that. She loves you so much. She’s not ready to say goodbye yet, and neither are you.”

Water inundates my blazing eyes, surging down my face in tributaries that convene at my jawline. Saliva swarms my mouth as snot blocks my nasal cavities, giving my already-strained voice a relentless hiccup.

I was determined to carry this pain by myself, to lock Gage out, but I’m not strong enough. The guilt is going to kill me. I’ve never had another person to lean on. I’ve never allowed someone else to help me carry my burdens, but he’s right here, and my heart’s unfurling like petals ready to blossom—ready to let the light in after months of darkness.

“Don’t punish yourself, Cali. You’re going to destroy me if you punish yourself. And I can’t…I won’t be able to heal if I lose you,” he chokes, pain drenching his waterlines in fat droplets.

I’ve never seen Gage cry before. I never thought I ever would. I thought he was one of those guys who warded off emotions like a priest warding off demonic activity, but he’s letting me see his vulnerability. He’s imploring me to take his outstretched hand. He’s offering me the support I’ve always searched for but never found.

I ball my fists into the back of his shirt, my heart racing so quickly that I’m afraid it’ll burst from my chest and gallop off into the woods. “I don’t think I c-can…do this…a-anymore,” I sob, needing to ground myself on the firmness of his shoulders, needing to feel his heart beneath my hand to remind myself that he’s real and he’s here and he won’t leave me.

Gage wraps his arms fully around me, bringing my shaking frame into his sturdy one, allowing my nose to nestle in the divot of his collarbone. “I know, Cali. Shh. I know. You can. I’m here, okay? You’re not alone anymore.”

Not alone anymore.

I’ve never known what it feels like not to be alone.

Everything hurts—my eyes, my heart, my throat. It feels like there’s a tungsten needle piercing the membrane of my heart—slowly, slowly plunging into the barely pulsating muscle until everything in my body turns dark. “It h-hurts, Gage. I feel like I can’t breathe. I just…I can’t…”

He squeezes me tighter, as if he’s afraid I’ll float away if he lets go. “Give me your pain, Cali. Give me everything. I’m here, Spitfire. Right here,” he croons into my neck, petting my hair.

Every emotion that I’ve compartmentalized since my mother’s diagnosis ruptures inside me, and a bloodcurdling scream emanates from me, one so loud that it rings in my ears and drowns out the ambience of the night. Gage doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t let go. He inhales my pain, swallows every last ounce of it, and lets it detonate inside his body to spare me from the sharp, fragmented fallout.

Each wail robs me of oxygen, heating my cheeks and my forehead and the back of my neck. I don’t open my eyes because I won’t be able to see past the blurry, rippling caustics. I don’t know how long I cry for, but it feels like forever. My throat’s thoroughly abraded, and I know it’ll hurt when I talk again.

“You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay. I’m not going anywhere,” he hushes, rubbing circles on my upper back.

I need to move my face because I’ve saturated the spot of his shirt that I was previously occupying. “I…don’t…w-want…to…t-trap…you,” I gasp, finally looking up at him.

His thumb comes up to brush away a weltering tear, a small smile dimpling his cheeks. “You’re not trapping me, Cali. Not even close.”

“But—”

“No buts. Do you know that I’d give anything in this fucking world to be in your life? I don’t care what that means—friend, lover, enemy, stranger that I occasionally run into at the rink. I need you in my life or I’ll lose my goddamn mind.”

I can’t believe this. I mean, Gage hasn’t tried to keep his feelings for me a secret, but I didn’t realize they stemmed from more than just some hate attraction. He has to be delirious. This—this can’t be how he really feels. “You barely know me, Gage.”

“I know enough. I know that you’re one of the most caring people I’ve ever met. I know that you put other people’s happiness before your own. I know that you put a guard up so people don’t see the vulnerable parts of you.”

Shock shrieks through me. “How do you know all of that?”

“Because I notice the small things,” he answers, catching another runaway tear from disappearing beneath the neck of his hoodie.

His words have an unexpected cataclysmic effect on me, and more cries echo around his room, probably concerning the other inhabitants of the house. The dissonance of my whimpers and his string of coos whistle through my eardrums like wind through reeds of cattails.

I’ve never trusted anyone with my heart before because I was always certain that it would only lie with my family, but Gage Arlington has somehow managed to shoehorn his way into the tiniest crack. “W-what if you leave?” I ask through a sniffle, hating how pathetic I sound.

Nobody’s obligated to stay. Everyone eventually leaves. Just look at my dad.

Gage inclines his head, making his hair flop over. “Not a chance in hell. You’d have to get a restraining order against me before I ever decide to leave.”

A half-formed chuckle barely scrapes out of me. “I doubt that I’d ever do that. Or that a slip of paper would keep you away.”

“You’re definitely right about the last part. But I don’t know, I can be pretty annoying,” he jokes, nudging me with his elbow.

I don’t even realize that the tears have retreated for the time being, or that my lungs are bringing in fresh air again. “So you finally admit it?”

“Oh, I’ve known this whole time.”

I wipe off the makeup-tinged massacre on my face. “Of course you did,” I mutter.

He shoots me a grin like a well-thrown dagger. “It’s my job to annoy you, Spitfire. Can’t have you growing a big head like me.”

“I should honestly thank you for saving me from Gage levels of stupidity,” I tease.

“I live to please.”

The lightheartedness from the conversation tapers, leaving a terrible taste in my mouth like cigarette ash on my palette. “What about my mom, Gage? I-I don’t know what to do.”

I don’t feel any more wetness on my face, but Gage still brushes his knuckles over my cheekbone, warmth kindling in the sage pits of his eyes. “I’ll help you both with whatever you need. If you need me to go down and visit her, I will. If you need me to take Teague to hockey practice so you can get to class on time, I will. If you need me to drive you down to visit her, I will. There’s nothing you can ask of me that I won’t do,” he insists.

“That’s…a big commitment,” I whisper, staring down at the watery blemishes shimmering on Gage’s sleeves.

“You’re a big commitment,” he reiterates as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“We’re not together. You do know that, right?”

“Like I said, not yet.”

That dreaded smirk of his haunts me in my dreams. And out of them. I roll my eyes, only to divert my attention from the unexplained pickup in my heart rate. “You sound just like you did when you embarrassed me in front of Dilbert.”

Taking this next step with Gage not only means letting him help me with my mom, but it means spending more time with him than I already am, and time has a way of…stirring feelings up. Including sexual ones.

We can be friends who fuck. I appreciate all that he’s done for me, but I don’t think I’m ready for anything more serious. And I know Gage is. He was ready the moment I met him.

He releases a groan. “You really need to stop having another man’s name in your mouth.”

“Or what?” I egg him on.

In hindsight, I shouldn’t have said anything. In hindsight, I also didn’t realize how dirty my response sounded.

He yanks me by the collar close enough so we’re nose to nose, and I’m not sure if it’s the moonlight or the strangely romantic setting, but his lips look softer than a snowbank. “Or I’ll make sure to drag his face across the plexiglass the first game I’m back on the ice,” he growls.

I blink. I flush. Or maybe I break out into hives. I don’t know what I do, but as usual, my brain short-circuits, and my tongue ties itself into a cumbersome knot. Possessiveness isn’t usually something that gets me so hot and bothered, but when Gage is the one outpouring with jealousy, my belly does all sorts of acrobatics.

I wish I’d ripped my foot out of my mouth before I spoke. “Psh. You wouldn’t,” I deflect nervously.

He wouldn’t, right?

“Can goaltend just fine with a few bruised knuckles.”

Oh, God. He would. Gage absolutely would.

Tight-lipped, I quickly change the subject when I notice his fingers still enwrapped in his hoodie, and then I realize I never gave it back to him. Uh, not that he’d want it now after I slobbered all over it.

I begin to lift it up over my head anyways, but Gage stops me.

“Don’t,” he commands in that stupidly gruff voice of his. “It looks better on you.”

The hoodie slips back over my head, and I feel my cheeks toast at least twenty degrees hotter, undoubtedly ripening them into a bright pink blush.

A smile hangs from Gage’s lips, and both of us dwell in the subsequent silence. None of it is awkward or uncomfortable—which I didn’t know was possible—but I guess it just takes the right person. He’s staring at me the entire time, and it feels like he’s drowning himself in my eyes to get to the bottom of a pain-filled quarry.

“Can I kiss you right now?” he asks in a hushed whisper. “I know you’re emotional, and I would never want to take advantage of you. I…fuck. I just really want to kiss you right now, Cali.”

There’s a surprising shamefulness to his tone, one that I’ve never heard before. “You want to kiss me?”

He leans in enough to make it apparent what he wants, but not enough to crowd me. “Every second of every day.”

I melt, and my heart thunders with an unignorable yes. I nod, and he slowly descends on my lips, cradling my cheek to ease me into the kiss. It’s soft and gooey and so unlike anything we’ve shared before. He’s got me trapped in honey like an unsuspecting fly, and I need to taste him like an addict needs their next hit. He’s gentle with me, but not in a way one would be when handling broken glass. He’s gentle with me in a way that one exudes reverence for something delicate, yet not entirely fragile.

I’m caught up in him. I’m caught up in everything about him. The way he reassures me with comforting words, the way he showers me with affection, the way he looks at me like he’ll forget me the second he tears himself away. I never want us to unentangle from each other. I never want this warm feeling to go away. But of course, it seems like there’s always something standing between us. Without warning, my stomach makes this loud, drawn-out gurgling noise, and embarrassment practically swallows me alive.

Gage pulls back immediately. “Was that your stomach?”

I fold my lower lip over, wishing that a car would magically come careening into his second-story room and pin my lifeless body up against the wall. “You heard that?”

He shoots me a really? look. “I think the entirety of California heard that.”

“Ass,” I joke, but the humor seems to be lost on him.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve gotten you food at the hospital,” he apologizes, and to my utter confusion, guilt seethes in his eyes.

Why is he apologizing? He didn’t do anything wrong. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“But I do. The last thing on your mind right now is taking care of yourself, so I need to be the one taking care of you.”

Tight-chested, I relinquish a breathy “Gage…”

“When was the last time you ate?”

Shit. I don’t know. This morning? I’ve been running around all day. But judging by the already-pissed expression suffusing his face, I feel like telling the truth would do more harm than good. Though my silence is telling in itself.

“This morning,” I admit.

Gage’s mouth splits into a frown, and he runs his hand through his hair. “Fuck, Cali. It’s ten at night. You’re telling me you’ve barely eaten at all today?”

“I’m fine, Gage.”

“You’re not,” he immediately chides, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Please tell me you had something nutritious. Protein, healthy fat, fiber.”

I wish I could say yes, but I can’t. I had a sugary blueberry muffin before I dropped Teague off at school. A sugary blueberry muffin that was a pathetic article of sustenance for the entire day.

Taking my silence as an answer, he stands up. “Jesus Christ, give me a second.”

I don’t know where he goes, but he leaves the room, and I’m left sitting in the figurative—and literal—darkness for a good five minutes. There’s a lot of clanking going on downstairs, but I stay where I am, becoming increasingly aware of the empty state of my belly.

Finally, the aroma of slightly burnt cheese wafts through my nostrils, and Gage shoulders the partition open, carrying a plate piled mountain-high with cheddar cheese melted over oven-warmed fries.

“Please eat more frequently throughout the day,” he implores, plopping the plate in my lap.

My mouth waters when I notice the tiny bits of bacon he’s sprinkled throughout for some extra protein. “You really didn’t have to make anything for me.”

“I know this might be hard to believe, but I can’t stand knowing that you’re this hungry all the time.”

“It’s just my work schedule,” I insist, trying my best to allay his concern. “Some days I forget to eat, but it’s really no big deal.”

The angry knit of his eyebrows tells me he’s unconvinced. “That’s a huge deal, Cali.”

“It’s not. I promise you I’m not even that hungry—” Of course, my traitorous stomach decides to chime in with a thunderous roar that lasts for several seconds, and I instantly slap a hand over my belly. My cheeks flare with heat as Gage’s eyes drop to the source of the noise.

“You need to eat. And if you’re not going to eat right now, then I’ll just have to feed you. Is that what you want? Because we won’t leave this room until you finish everything on that plate.”

Gage is mad. Like, really mad. I’ve never seen this side of him before. It’s concern disguised as anger, and it’s somehow more terrifying than pure anger itself. I didn’t realize my eating habits were such a big deal to him.

“I just don’t want you to think I’m a burden,” I mumble under my breath.

His entire face softens at the rather chaotic crash-landing of the truth, and a Gage-patented smile slings up the corner of his lips. “I don’t. I could never, okay? When will you understand that I like taking care of you?”

Oh.

I can tell he’s seriously contemplating force-feeding me the fries, so I quickly dig into the greasy dish before he gets the chance to baby me. And the minute the potato crunches between my teeth and the cheese slides down my throat, I groan.

“Thank you. This is amazing. Oh my God, I could kiss you.”

“I would happily take that as payment,” Gage chirps, pitching forward to slant his lips over mine in another world-spinning kiss.

I rear backward and immediately cover my mouth. “Not right now! My breath is all…cheesy.”

“Cali, I couldn’t care less.” He moves my hand to prove it to me, kissing the rest of the night’s pain away like he’s always known his lips were made for mine.