Free The Redemption of Callie and Kayden by Jessica Sorensen Page A

I’m afraid of everything that night holds and that
    I’ll have to admit that it’s my fault. I’m afraid I’ll learn that Kayden was really trying to kill himself, trying to leave me alone in the
    world. That he’ll leave me again, and I need him like I need air.

    “Where will we take him, though?” I wonder. “My mom’s
    made it really clear that she doesn’t want him here.”

    A devilish grin spreads across his face. “You leave that to me.
    All you need to do is bring your bag and tell your mom you’re
    going to be gone for a couple of days.”

    My eyebrows dip together. “You’re not going to tell me
    where we’re going?”

    His grin widens and his hands leave my shoulders and
    reunite with his sides. “It’s called a surprise road trip, Callie.”

    I drag my hand across my face. “You think that’s a wise idea,
    considering everything?”

    “No, but I’ve never been one for wise ideas,” he says. “I
    believe in irrational, fleeting decisions that keep life interesting.
    And life needs to be interesting because we’ve got only one of
    them to live”

    I smile and it almost feels real. “You are the most wise… I
    mean, irrational, fleeting person I’ve ever met.”

    He wraps his arms around me and embraces me in a tight
    hug. I drop my clothes to the floor and hug him back. I don’t
    cringe. I don’t panic. I just enjoy it. Because Seth is home. And I
    hope one day Kayden will be too.

    We hug for a while and then let each other go. I gather up
    my clothes and head to the bathroom. “All right, let’s go get him,” I say, knowing it’s not going to be that easy.

    Because reuniting with something you’ve lost rarely is,
    especially when you’re not sure who exactly you’re reuniting with.

Chapter 5

    #41 Eat a lot of pancakes
    Kayden

    My mom came to pick me up the next morning, just like she
    promised. They stopped giving me my meds so I feel drained and
    piercing on the inside, like shards of glass are roaming through my
    bloodstream.

    “Are you ready to go home?” she asks as she enters my
    room. There’s something in her tone I don’t like, a warning maybe
    of what waits for me at home.

    There’s an instant where I think about telling Doug what
    really happened. At least I’d finally be getting it off my chest. But then I think of what that means—of what I’ll have to admit and
    face. Every punch, every kick, a childhood packed with torturous
    memories. I’ll have to feel it and I don’t have a knife or razor to
    turn it off.

    “Yeah,” I finally answer as I fold up a pair of jeans and put
    them in the bag.

    She looks relieved and horrified. “Good.”

    She spends a few minutes chatting with the doctor near the
    doorway, collecting the papers they give her with a mildly tolerant
    look on her face. I gather the last of my stuff from the dresser
    drawer beside my bed. My stitches are out, but there’s still some
    pain when I twist my midsection, although the doctors assure me
    that I’ll make a full recovery eventually and will probably be able to play football again next season.

    I can’t even look that far ahead, because I have no idea what
    lies before me. Felony charges? My dad? College? Callie? Maybe
    nothing.

    I zip my bag up and swing it over my shoulder, deciding not
    to think about my future for now. All I need to focus on is getting
    out the door and then my attention can go to making it to the car.
    My mom and the doctors have disappeared so I head out, unsure
    where I’m supposed to go.

    Fate takes matters into its own hands, though. I’m halfway
    across the room when fate steps into the room in the form of a
    short, tiny little thing with big blue eyes and brown hair. She looks smaller than the last time I saw her. Her waist is a little thinner, and she has dark circles under her eyes like she hasn’t been sleeping
    very well.

    “Callie,” I say, dropping my bag to the floor.

    She fidgets with her fingers, wringing them in front