Chapter 4.

All through classes the next day, Brandon was on Callie's mind. She couldn't focus. Before moving in with the Quinns, school was just something she had to deal with; a chore, and she rode through it, passing by the skin of her teeth. After moving in with the Quinns, her studies became an escape from life. She would become so fully absorbed in the material that she could ignore everything else, and no one cared, because school and grades were so important to the family. When she started college, it was the same way. It helped her forget for a little while.

Then, Brandon came back in the picture.

She closed her eyes for a moment, and recalled the sound of him whispering her name, and how good it felt to be wrapped in his arms. The way he kissed her... and then, the hurt in his eyes when she rejected him.

She blinked, realizing she'd just missed a good minute of the lecture. She had to focus. She wouldn't let him do this to her again.

So, exactly how soon can I see you again?

She sighed, and resumed taking notes, pressing her pencil so hard against the paper that the lead snapped.

Three Years Earlier:

"This is your new room," said Robert, setting her bags down on the floor. "What do you think?"

Callie looked around the room. It was huge; bigger than the Foster's living room. Too big for one person. A huge four poster bed sat right in the center of the space, covered in a ruffled bedspread. The walls were ballet-pink, and decorated with framed paintings of flowers.

"I hate pink," she muttered under her breath.

"We can have it repainted," Robert told her. "Sophia chose the color. She though you would like it."

Callie sighed, her face tight from the tears that had dried on her cheeks. "I'll keep it. It's fine."

"Okay," he nodded. "I"ll a, let you get settled." He crossed the room to the door. "Callie... I'm really glad that you're here." He smiled, and left the room.

"That makes one of us," said Callie, in the echoing silence of her new bedroom. She looked around one last time, then went to the bed. It rose high off the floor. She climbed up on it, and laid down, surrounded by frills of white lace.

She moved around, trying to get comfortable. "I feel like I'm living in a giant box of tampons."

Then, she heard voices floating down the hall. She looked toward the door, and realized that Robert had left it open a crack. She rolled off the tampon-bed, and went to the door, straining her ears to listen.

"I don't want to raise your ex-wife's kid!" a female voice shouted. It had to be Jill.

"She's my daughter," Robert told his wife. "I have an obligation. I've never been there for her. I owe her."

"Well, you can't fix everyone," Jill replied bitterly. "I don't trust her, Bob. She's been in jail!"

"What are you trying to say?" Robert asked.

"I'm trying to say that I don't want a damn criminal in my house!" Jill cried. "We would've all been better off if you'd left her in that foster home, but you just couldn't leave things alone."

You just couldn't leave things alone... Callie cringed. Jude had said almost those exact words to her at Stef and Lena's wedding, after he caught she and Brandon kissing. She felt tears sting her eyes.

"She isn't dangerous," Robert promised, trying to diffuse the situation. "She's just troubled."

"Whatever," Jill muttered, apparently in tears. Callie heard her move something, slamming it around. "You can bring her here, but you can't make me love her. I'm not her mother, and I don't care to be."

"Damn right, you're not my mother!" Callie shouted down the hall.

"See?" Robert cried. "Now you've upset her!"

Callie backed away from the door. Then, she crawled into bed and burst into tears, her shoulders shaking violently. Jill was jealous of her mother, she realized scornfully. That was her problem; she'd never be as beautiful and kind as Colleen was, no matter how hard she tried.

"Callie?" It was Robert. "May I come in?"

Callie looked up from her damp pillow. "No! I want to be alone."

"Please?"

"No!" She furiously brushed her tears away.

"Okay," he said. "I'm sorry. Let us know if you need anything."

She rolled back over, and buried her face in the pillow, trying to imagine that she was back in her own bed, with Mariana across the room, and Stef and Lena right down the hall, talking softly.

There was a knock at the door, just when she was almost starting to believe her fantasy.

"I said, go away!" she shouted, as the feeling of being safe at home slipped away.

"It's Sophia," a little voice answered.

Callie sighed, feeling the slightest bit guilty. "You can come in, I guess."

Sophia came, shyly, into the room, closing the door behind her. "I heard what happened."

"I don't want to talk about it," Callie grumbled.

"Neither do I," Sophia replied. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

She went to Callie's bed, and placed her hand on her shoulder, gently rubbing it. "I don't care what my mom says," she told her. "I love you, and I'm glad you're my sister."

Callie stood over the stove, angrily stirring the pan of gravy. The biscuits were already in the oven. Biscuits and gravy was her mother's favorite meal. She would make it often, when they needed a little comfort... when Donald came home drunk, or one of them had a rough day at school. Even though she was gone, it still had the same effect for Callie.

When the gravy was done, she spooned some over the two biscuits on her plate, and brought it to the table.

Caitlin came home minutes later, and sniffed the air. "Biscuits and gravy," she said, eying Callie. "What's wrong?"

"Why does something have to be wrong?" Callie asked, stabbing a piece of sausage with her fork.

Caitlin served herself a plate, then joined her friend at the table. "You only make this when you're sad." She closed her eyes appreciatively as she took a bite. "Mmm. You need to get sad more often."

"Well, maybe I am feeling a little stressed," Callie admitted, soaking up some gravy with a hunk of biscuit, and popping it into her mouth.

"Can I ask why?"

"Brandon wants to see me again," she confided. "Soon."

"So?" said Caitlin. "What's wrong with that?"

"Well, I don't want to lead him on," Callie shrugged. "It wouldn't be fair to him."

"It's not like he proposed to you," her friend pointed out. "It's just casual sex."

"Nothing is ever casual with Brandon," Callie told her. "But the sex was good... both times." She blushed a shade of scarlet.

"You guys did it twice?" Caitlin giggled. She saw Callie's red face, and regarded her more soberly. "I think he could be good for you, Cal. I really do."

"Do you think I should see him again?" she asked, taking her plate to the sink.

"Uh, heck yeah!"

Callie looked down into the sink, thoughtfully. "Well, I guess I could."

She poked the doorbell harshly, and waited.

"Coming!"

She heard him hurry to the door, and watched it swing open.

"Callie?" Brandon's face lit up with a smile. That adorable smile. "You decided to come over."

"Yeah." She looked him up and down. He was wearing khakis, but he was shirtless. A sexy trail of dark hair started at his belly button, leading down.

"I wasn't sure if you'd come back," he told her, stepping aside so she could come in. "But I hoped you would."

She shrugged. "I just can't leave things alone."

To Be Continued