I opened one eye to see what the hell was going on, and Bernard was staring at me with a frown, but no hint of anger, just sadness. I opened my other eye and raised my eyebrows in confusion. “Mr. King, I’m—”
“Save it, kid. I saw right through your act. I can see how much my daughter means to you, and so I understand why you did what you did. Now, I’m not going to say that I’m happy you’ve broken her heart, but I am happy you’ve made the decision for her. So, thank you. You’re a better man than I thought you were.” He sighed. “You’re a good kid, Mike, and I know you love Callie, but—”
“I can never give her the life she wants,” I interjected and hung my head low while kicking the soil around with my shoe.
Mr. King patted me on the shoulder and exhaled. “No kid, you could never give her the life she needs.” Giving the last word a lot of emphasis, I knew he had spoken the truth, and my heart sank.
It was then I knew I had made the right decision.
So why did it feel so wrong?
“Look, Mike, like I said… you’re a good kid. You knew what you had to do. I didn’t even have to tell you. You’ve got your head screwed on, and I know, in time, you’ll love someone else the way you love Callie now,” he said. Then, to top it off, he ruffled my hair like I was some four-year-old kid.
That stupid action of his made me feel a million times worse.
“Thanks, Mr. King. I’d better get going. Mr. O’Connell will probably want his car back,” I said while walking around to the driver’s side.
“You did the right thing, Mike. You should be proud of yourself.”
Without looking back, I slid into the car and took off as fast as I could, dust shooting up into the air in wav
es as I skidded out of the King’s driveway.
I needed to be away from there.
I needed to be away from her.
Otherwise, I knew I would cave in and take her back in a heartbeat.
It was becoming harder to breathe on the drive back toward the O’Connell mansion. I was taking quick, shallow breaths, and my hands were clenched so tight around the steering wheel I couldn’t feel them anymore. My vision was blurred, so I had to pull over. I screeched the car to a halt on the side of the road and got out, slamming the door. My hands fisted in my hair, and I paced around in a circle trying to stop the panic which was engulfing me.
What had I done?
“Ahhh,” I screamed loudly and kicked the tire of the car.
I walked around to the hood of the car, still with my hands in my hair, and sat. My breathing was erratic, and my heart was thudding so fast I could feel it disintegrating with each and every pulse.
Then it happened—what I was trying to avoid—the tears fell like a river cascading down my face faster than the currents of the Mississippi.
I was a wreck.
I was destroyed.
I didn’t know how long I sat on the rust-bucket sobbing, but I knew I would never love another the way I loved Callie Anne King.
I sat on the hood of the rust-bucket for hours—most of the day, really. I knew I was meant to be working for the O’Connell’s, but I couldn’t bring myself to move from the hood of the car. The sun started to set in its somber tones, and somehow, I managed to drag my sorry ass back into the car and drive to the O’Connell mansion.
I knew they’d be angry with me for not turning up for work.
Well, actually, they’d probably fire me, and I’d have to find another way to pay the bills and save money. I thought maybe I’d go into carpentry with my father. Or perhaps I’d just crawl into a ditch and die. To be honest, that sounded like the best option.
Okay, maybe that’s a touch dramatic, but I felt that fucking terrible.
When I pulled in the driveway, Patty was in the garage tinkering with a tractor from old-man Harris’ farm. I instantly felt like I wanted to be physically sick. I sluggishly got out of the car and walked over to Patty, who looked up and stopped working.
“Mike, you look like crap. You okay, kid?” he asked with no sense of anger toward me whatsoever. It unsettled me slightly.
“Had a rough day, sir. I’m sorry I took the car for longer than I said I would. I completely understand if you want to fire me, sir,” I stated, sounding as depressed as I felt.