Chapter 9
“It’s not real. No matter how much I wish it were.” ~ Caleb
Caleb
I grit my teeth as I grasp the edge of the bathtub and haul myself out of the water using my upper body. According to Hazel, taking an ice bath after her torture sessions is supposed to help with muscle recovery and alleviate soreness. All this bath has helped is to freeze my balls off.
I sit on the edge of the bath and wrap myself in a towel. I avoid looking at my leg. The scars and puckered, red skin remind me of things I don’t want to remember.
Once I’m dry, I don some sweats and hobble to the kitchen. Hazel wants me to use a cane after our sessions but I refuse. I’m not a cripple.
My stomach growls. I wonder if I have any casserole left from Maya.
Maya . I’m such an asshole. I hate how she left here crying the other day. I had to lock down every single muscle in my body to stop myself from going after her. She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t understand. She is better off without me .
I can barely handle myself these days. I’m not the man she needs. I glare down at my leg. I’m hardly a man at all.
Light reflects off the kitchen window and I growl. Someone’s driving down the road to the cabin.
I am not in the mood for visitors. Especially not after a grueling physical therapy session.
I make my way to the living room window and peek outside. Maya is climbing out of her car. The wind picks up her honey blonde hair and it flies around her head. She tugs on a pink knit hat before reaching inside her car.
I groan at the sight of her perfect ass bent over. How I wish I could dig my fingers into her hips while I bend her over my sofa and bury myself inside her wet heat. I bet she’d go wild for me. Maya is shy but there’s a hint of wild in there. I witnessed it for myself the one time I touched her lips.
She stands and she’s now holding a picnic basket. I growl. Damn picnic basket.
No matter how many times I send Maya away, she returns with a picnic basket of food for me. Casseroles she took the time to make for me. Cookies she took the time to bake for me.
Doesn’t she realize I’m a lost cause? She shouldn’t be spending her precious time on me.
She straightens her back before marching up the steps to the front door of the cabin. People – especially assholes in high school – assume shy little Maya is timid and afraid. She’s the furthest thing from timid. She’s brave and loyal and fucking perfect .
Evidence of her marching back here to feed me after I was a complete dick to her last time and made her cry. I rub a hand over my chest at the ache the thought of her tears creates.
“Caleb!” she shouts as she knocks on the door.
“Go away, Bunny.”
The nickname Bunny slips out. I shouldn’t use it. I shouldn’t give her hope that we can rekindle our friendship in person since I’m home.
Because I’m not home. This is temporary. A bump in the road. As soon as my leg is healed, I’ll be back on active duty and a million miles away from here.
“If you didn’t want me to stop by with more beer and food, you shouldn’t have brought my picnic basket back to me.”
Crap. I knew returning her picnic basket would give her the wrong idea but I couldn’t keep it. Having a possession of Maya’s in the cabin was too big of a temptation. The sight of the picnic basket taunted me. Made me question my reasons for not pursuing her, for shutting her out. Which is the last thing I needed.
“How do you know I returned the picnic basket? Maybe I asked someone else to do it.”
She barks out a laugh. “Silly man. If you didn’t want to get caught, you shouldn’t have insisted I get a doorbell camera.”
Damn. I forgot all about her camera. I should have left the picnic basket on the back porch. But I didn’t want to look like a damn stalker creeping through her yard.
“I made your favorite,” she sings. “Irish beef stew using Five Fathoms Brewing Depth Charge Stout . ”
My mouth waters. I love Irish beef stew. And I bet it’s even better using the stout beer from her brewery. The Five Fathoms beers are awesome. The last time I met my parents in Germany for the holidays I made them bring me a bunch of it.
I nearly reach for the door but I fist my hand when I remember. I can’t be a good friend to Maya. She deserves better than a broken man who’s a failure.
“I’m not opening the door, Maya.” I don’t know who I’m trying to convince – me or her?
“You can’t out stubborn me, Caleb Emerson.”
“Pretty sure I can, Maya Jenkins.”
“Ha! Remember the time the principal pitted us against each other? He was determined to find out who stole the Rogue’s Landing’s mascot. For some reason, he thought I might have had something to do with the missing raccoon.”
“Because you did, Maya.”
She ignores me to continue her story. “She sat us in his office and told us we couldn’t move until one of us confessed. It wasn’t me who confessed.”
I growl. “I told her what I knew because you were squirming in your chair. I was afraid you were going to pee your pants.”
She gasps. “I would never.”
“Which is why you ran to the girl’s restroom faster than lightning the second I confessed.”
“Oh please. If I could run faster than lightning, I would have been on the track team. But they wouldn’t even let me try out for the team. I believe their words were, ‘you’re not fast enough to carry our water for us’.”
“Those kids were assholes.”
“Totally. I appreciate you stealing all of their shoes so they couldn’t compete in their first track meet.”
“I didn’t steal their shoes.” I totally did. They deserved it. They knew Maya was under my protection but they didn’t heed my warnings. I showed them what happens when they ignore me.
“Sure, you didn’t. And you didn’t…”
Her voice trails off. “Didn’t what?”
“We have company.”
Company? I didn’t hear anyone drive down the road. I hurry to the living room window. My parents are climbing out of their minivan.
They promised they wouldn’t come here anymore. They said they’d give me time. I guess my time is up. Crap.
“Hi, Mrs. Emerson.” Maya greets Mom with a hug.
“Son, are you in there?” Dad shouts.
I can’t exactly ignore my parents and pretend I’m not home when Maya’s standing on the porch, obviously talking to me. Mom will lose her mind. She did her best to teach me how to be a gentleman.
I open the door and Maya forces her way past me. She saunters to the kitchen and places her basket on the counter as if she belongs here.
“A picnic basket?” Mom claps her hands. “How romantic.”
Maya’s eyes widen and her cheeks darken.
“We’re not— ”
I don’t get a chance to finish. “I’m glad you have someone to help you around while you’re injured.”
I scowl at Mom. Maya isn’t supposed to know how injured I am. To Maya’s credit, she doesn’t flinch or act surprised.
“He doesn’t need my help. Except with cooking. We all know how bad a cook he is.”
“I always knew the two of you were destined to be together.” Mom sighs. “You’re adorable together.”
“Wait. What?” I ask.
“There’s no need to hide from us, Son,” Dad says.
“I’m not hiding.”
Mom rolls her eyes. “We haven’t seen you since you got home. We only know you go to physical therapy three times a week because I ran into Hazel at Smuggler’s Cove. ”
I glance at Maya but she doesn’t act surprised by the information. I frown. Does everyone on Smuggler’s Hideaway know about my injuries? I dismiss the thought. Maya wouldn’t be here begging me for answers if she knew.
“I’m glad you’re not hiding from your girlfriend,” Mom continues to babble away.
I should correct Mom. Tell her Maya hasn’t even been inside my cabin until five minutes ago.
But maybe if my parents believe I’m dating Maya, they’ll stop bothering me. Being left alone is what I want most.
Except to spend time with Maya.
Hold on. This is the perfect way to spend time with Maya without leading her on. We can pretend to date. My parents will be happy. And I can spend some time with Maya. And when I’m all healed up, I can drive away from this island without anyone getting hurt.
Maya raises an eyebrow at me. I know her well enough to understand the question she’s asking. Does she roll with it or deny it?
I give her a subtle nod before raising my arm. She hurries to me and buries herself in my side. She fits perfectly against me. As if she were made for me. I inhale her honey scent and calm spreads over me.
This is where she belongs. If I were a better man, I’d never let her leave my side.
Unfortunately, I’m not a better man. I left over a decade ago to prove I could be the man for her, but I did the exact opposite. I proved I’m not good enough for her.
“Well,” Dad says and brings me out of my reverie. “We’ll leave you two alone. Your mother just wanted to check on you.”
Mom elbows him. “Don’t lie. You were worried, too.”
He grins down at her. “Yes, dear.”
My parents are still in love. Five children later and they continue to stare at each other with cartoon hearts in their eyes. I want what they have.
I glance down at Maya. Those whiskey-colored eyes are full of warmth and her pouty lips are tipped up in a smile at me. If I were a better man, I could meld my lips to hers.
I’ve never wanted to be a better man more than in this moment.