Page 43 of The Consequence of You (Heathley Academy #2)

CHAPTER FORTY

CALLIE

M y tears are flowing freely now, and I rub at them, unable to get them under control. My vision is blurred, and I’m thankful I can’t see Asher’s expression. I don’t miss the way his body goes rigid beside me, though.

“What are you talking about?”

“Nico and I had been seeing each other for a while. Maybe six months. We thought we were in love. Both of our families were traditional, and we were aware we’d probably both have arranged marriages like our parents before us.

There isn’t a ban on relationships but there is a certain expectation a woman won’t partake in anything serious until her marriage. So, we kept it a secret.”

Asher stays quiet beside me.

“We knew it could never go anywhere, but we decided we’d keep seeing each other, have fun before we were introduced to our future partners.

We didn’t set out to be dishonest about it, but that’s what we ended up being.

We kept it hidden. Thought what our families didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

We snuck around. Told ‘white lies’ about where we were going, and who we were meeting up with. They didn’t suspect anything.”

I pause and take a deep breath, trying to steady my voice.

Other than in some very unsuccessful therapy sessions years ago, I’ve never spoken to anyone about the night of my mother’s death.

Not even Dahlia. I know she’d have listened, but I couldn’t bear to lose her like I’d lost my family over it.

I could imagine the look in her eyes if she knew what I’d done.

What I was responsible for, and selfishly, I couldn’t bear for her to think less of me.

Asher though? He sees through the facade I put up. He sees me in a way no one else does. He’s right when he says I’ve been running because I have been. I am .

And he deserves to know why.

Asher squeezes my hand gently, urging me to go on. Before I can talk myself out of telling him the rest, I continue,

“It was New Year’s Eve. Nico’s parents were away.

I went to his house. I’d told my mum it was a party and said I was getting a ride home and I’d be home for my usual curfew.

We spent the evening messing about, taking advantage of the empty house.

” Asher stiffens beside me, and I move on quickly.

“We were drinking. Neither of us had much tolerance, and we fell asleep. The next thing we knew, it’s the early hours of the morning.

Nico’s older brother Dante had been at a party and come home and found us.

He thought it was funny whenever he discovered us together, but as soon as I saw the time, I realised it was hours past my curfew and Mama would be worried sick.

I had so many missed calls on my phone, Asher. ”

He tenderly tucks a loose bit of hair behind my ear, and I force myself to go on.

“There were calls from Mama, and Luca and my father and even some from a withheld number. I didn’t bother listening to the voicemails.

I just raced home. I knew I’d be in so much trouble for breaking curfew, for being at Nico’s, for drinking, for not telling her where I was spending the evening.

I was shaking by the time I got home. I thought I’d be grounded for months afterwards.

I was worried about my freedom being taken away. ”

Asher’s expression has changed; he no longer looks confused. He looks sad. He’s looking at me with pity, and I can’t bear it. I’m sure by now he’s worked out what happened, but I continue. He should hear it from me. Then he’ll know exactly what kind of person I am.

“Do you know I actually had a tracker on my phone with my location? It didn't occur to me on the drive home that no one had shown up at Nico’s. I just kept thinking about how much trouble I’d be in. Trying to come up with a lie I could tell to cover up where I’d been.”

Asher stays silent beside me.

“Luca was sitting on the sofa. There were two female police officers sitting with him. Even then, it didn’t sink in,” I laugh bitterly. “She’d been dead for hours by the time I walked into that room.”

Asher sucks in a sharp breath next to me.

“When I didn’t get home for my curfew and I didn’t answer their calls, she tracked my phone.

” Swallowing the painful lump in my throat, I continue telling Asher every detail of how I caused my mother’s death.

“She got in her car. She didn’t like driving in the dark.

Luca hadn’t passed his test yet. And she didn’t want to ask any of our security guards to drive her because she thought if she just found me and got me home, Papa would never need to know.

But she was so worried about me, she drove to Nico’s. For me. To look for me.”

My chest hurts with every breath I take now. Asher’s cheeks are damp and he looks almost as devastated as I feel.

“The crash killed her almost instantly. She’d have known very little. That’s what they kept saying.”

“Callie-”

“No. I’m not finished.” I take another deep breath, determined to get through it all.

“That’s what they said. But it doesn’t matter because she was worrying about me.

That was her last thought. She was distracted.

It was dark and icy, and she was desperate to make sure I was okay.

They said the other driver was elderly and should have stopped driving years before.

But it doesn’t matter. Because even if he was the one who actually made the mistake on the road, she should never have been there.

She should have been at home safe.

She was there because I lied. Because I hid things from her. Because all I cared about was seeing my boyfriend. A boyfriend who was never going to be long term. I killed her for nothing!” I claw at my chest as I gasp for breath.

“Sweetheart…”

“Can you see now why I told you this thing between us could never be anything more? My actions ended her life, and I ruined my own and Luca’s. My father’s. Nico’s.

I swore that day I would never make a choice or decision without thinking it through.

That I wouldn’t lie. You’re not Italian.

There can’t be anything long-term between us, and I won't have another relationship behind closed doors. And apart from all of that, why would someone love someone who had killed their own mother?”

Asher places his fingers over my lips, softly silencing me.

“You did not cause your mother’s death, Callie.

When you went to Nico’s that day, you never set out to stay out late, you never intended for it to end the way it did.

I saw the newspaper articles. It was an accident.

You didn’t cause the bad weather. You didn’t make the other driver go out that night.

There are so many other variables about that night.

Things that, had they happened differently, might have prevented that tragic, awful moment. You have to believe that.”

I shake my head. I want to believe him. I really do, and I appreciate him trying to make me feel better more than he could possibly know. Asher takes my hand.

“I’m serious. You can’t continue to blame yourself. Have you ever talked to your father or Luca about this?”

“You don’t understand. After she died, Luca went completely off the rails.

Papa made him go and live abroad. His whole life was uprooted because of me.

I don’t need to talk to him to know that.

And my father? Why do you think he spends so much time in Sicily?

He says it’s for work, but I know the truth.

He can hardly bear to look at me. They blame me as much as I blame myself. ”

ASHE R

I open my car door and walk around to her side of the car to open her door.

“Come here.”

Helping her out of her seat, I pull her into my arms. Holding her tightly, she sinks into my embrace, clinging to me.

Her small body is wracked with sobs, and I try my best to keep it together for her while her heart breaks open in front of me.

I lose track of how long we stand in the dark, at the side of the road in the early hours of the new year, but when we finally break apart, I know I need to get her home.

She’s exhausted, and she needs to sleep off tonight if I have any chance of helping her see reason.

I could keep telling her she’s wrong, that it’s not her fault, but she won’t believe me. It’s so ingrained in her, she won’t hear anything different.

Helping her back into the car, I drop a kiss to her forehead. Her eyes are puffy from crying. It was clear to anyone she was haunted by something, but I had no idea it was this. This misplaced guilt.

I’d seen the newspaper reports; I knew the story. But hearing it from her, hearing about the events of that night, how she thought it was her fault? Fuck, I had no idea.

We drive home in silence. Me lost in my thoughts, and her falling asleep next to me.

She was just a kid when her mother died.

Fifteen years old. I can’t imagine how she felt finding out her mother was gone, and I can see how she came to believe it was her fault, but her family should have done more to make sure she knew they didn’t feel like that, too.

That would have gone a hell of a long way to easing her own feelings of guilt.

I pull up in front of her house. Casting my eye over her sleeping form, I leave her fast asleep in the passenger seat as I turn off the engine and get out of the car.

Lights come on as the front door slides open. Her brother rushes down the steps, but before he can get near the car, I step in front of him. He stops in his tracks and just as I thought, the worry is so clearly evident on his face.

“Move asshole,” he hisses, predictably pulling his gun on me.

“You can put that down. She’s okay. She’s just asleep in the car.”

“I’ll be the judge of whether she’s okay or not,” he growls.

“Wait. Before you wake her. I need to talk to you.”

He scowls at me.

“What about?”

“Your sister.”

He pokes me in the chest with the barrel of his gun.

“Start talking, kid.” His demand should have me shitting my pants, but I just shake my head.

“Not here. Let me get her upstairs, and then we’ll talk.”

Miraculously, he lets me carry her up, and she stays asleep the whole time. I slip her jeans off and cover her with a blanket before heading downstairs.

Callie’s father waits for me at the bottom of the staircase. Jesus Christ . I thought Luca had menacing down to pat, but this guy is fucking terrifying.

“Luca is waiting in the kitchen for you.”

If The Godfather wasn’t released over fifty years ago, I’d swear Marlon Brando had modelled his accent on Don Messina’s.

I shake out my shoulders and try not to let my nerves show.

What I’m about to do is probably, scratch that, definitely one of the most dangerous things I’ve ever done, but I only have to think about the woman sleeping upstairs to know it’s worth the risk. I clear my throat.

“Actually, this involves you, too.”

Don Messina raises a solitary dark eyebrow before schooling his face. He pulls his hand from his pocket, and for a split second, fear grips me. But he just opens his empty palm, and gestures for me to go first.