Chapter 5
Brooke
I fly off the couch like an athlete, legs tangling with Kaleb’s as I leap to my feet.
Not very athletic, to be honest, but he’s much more graceful. Blue eyes blazing, he moves like a lion on the hunt. His bare muscles bunch as he snatches the tire iron off the floor.
“Where?” He whirls to the blinking panel on the wall. “Someone followed us in?”
My heart thuds wildly as I whip back my arms, struggling to rehook my bra. “I locked up behind us, so no.” I don’t think so, anyway. “The system’s in zones. It’s designed to lock down certain zones if someone gets inside.”
But God only knows how it works. Max showed me the manual as I unpacked my bags. It was sixty-three pages. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll email you a one-page summary by morning.”
And she did. But I have no clue where to find it in my inbox.
Also, I can’t get my bra closed. Stupid bent hooks.
Strobe lights shimmer in Kaleb’s eyes as shrieks fill the house. The alarm keeps blaring as he stalks, shirtless, to the control panel. With his forehead furrowed, he punches buttons like he built this system himself. “Something triggered it down the hall.” He points at the map on the screen. “What’s in there?”
“My study?” I run through the layout in my mind. “My computer, Max’s files, a safe with our passports and?—”
“Stay here.” He charges down the hall, tire iron glinting under blinking lights. “Shut the door behind me,” he calls over his shoulder, “and lock yourself inside.”
“No.” I can’t let him fly off alone to face someone who might have a gun. “The police will come.” At least I hope so. “The system calls local law enforcement.”
But Kaleb’s storming straight toward danger. It’s not even his danger, but he’s hell bent on shielding us both. Sirens throb as I chase down my shirtless guardian. Giving up on my bra, I tuck an arm under my boobs for support. It’s a jog to keep up and I find myself panting.
“I’m too old for this,” I mutter, though it’s not like I ran braless in my twenties.
Kaleb hits the doorway and freezes. “There!” His shoulders flash slices of moonlight as he stomps through the door of the study.
I follow meekly, trying my best not to be meek. It’s darker in here, since Max closed the drapes. I trip into my desk, wincing with pain as I try to get my bearings. Which way is the light switch?
Kaleb slips into a thick wedge of moonlight, the tire iron gripped in a fist. He looks lethal and fierce, surveying the room for a threat.
A shadow shifts toward him, and I scream. “Look out!” I point to a spot by the door. “Someone just moved.”
Kaleb draws back the tire iron. My phone’s in my hand, and I panic. Do I call 911 or film evidence?
“Get the fuck out of here.” He swings at the threat, blinded by strobe lights. The second he steps from the moonbeam, I lose sight of him.
“Shit!” There’s a swish and crash. Then an ooof! that sounds like Kaleb.
“Are you okay?” I punch 911 and charge toward him, fear guiding my steps. But I have to be brave, be useful. If he’s fighting off bad guys, I can’t stand by idle.
The night Grace died, police met me at the morgue. “Are you able to identify the body?”
His words struck my eardrums like mallets. Like a bell that couldn’t be un-rung.
The body.
Like she wasn’t my sister, but a lump on an icy cold slab. “No.” My nails dug crescents into my palms. “My brother—he’s flying in. He can do it.” My stomach rolled as I held on tight to a handrail. “I can’t.”
And I didn’t.
But a loud thump propels me to where Kaleb’s grappling with something. Someone. Goddamn it, I wish I could see.
“I’m here.” My hand bumps a big vase of flowers, and I snatch it. Coiling my arm back, I’m ready to throw. Or strike with one hand while I?—
“Gah!” My foot snags something and down I go, limbs flailing as I fall. I’m fighting and twisting and not sure at all where Kaleb went.
“Brooke.” He catches my arms as I land on his chest. There’s a wheeze as the vase hits the floor.
“Are you hurt?” I swing around wildly, searching for threats. Which way did the bad guy go? “Where did he?—”
“It’s a balloon.” He kicks out a foot and I scream as something bumps my shoulder.
Whipping around, I see a bright mylar flower bobbing beneath a strobe. Next to that, a yellow happy face and a bright red sphere urge me to celebrate!
I yank a foot back from the tangle of ribbons and two more balloons spin to taunt me.
Proud of you!
Way to go!
“What the?—”
“Police!” There’s a shout from downstairs, then the dull drum of footsteps on stairs. “Ms. Braham—are you hurt?”
I spit out some hair and peel myself off Kaleb’s bare chest. “In here.”
I try to get up, but I’m not quick enough.
Also, my bra’s still unhooked.
Two cops thunder in, weapons drawn. One of them hits a panel on the wall. Lights blaze as the room falls silent. Two dumbstruck officers stare down at the mess on the floor.
“Hi.” Kaleb, bare-chested, shields me with his arm. “Good to see you, Frank. Stacey.”
The female cop waves as they both glance around.
There’s glass everywhere, sharp daggers mixed with blossoms and puddles of water. A slick tail of ribbon snags on my shoe, and I jerk my foot back. It yanks a heart-shaped balloon that bops the back of my head.
The female cop—Stacy?—speaks first. “Ma’am.” She clears her throat. “Are you okay?”
I’m sprawled on the chest of a man I just met, boobs swinging free in the breeze. A dingy gray bra dangles out my armhole, its hooks bent like someone ripped it right off my body.
There’s no way this looks okay, but I muster a smile. “I’m great.”
The male cop looks at Kaleb. “Guess this explains why you weren’t at poker night.”
Kaleb spits out a chunk of my hair. “I told you I had family dinner.”
“Yeah.” The female cop crosses her arms. “That’s not your sister.”
“I’m not,” I assure them, dimly aware it’s a joke. I anchor a palm on Kaleb’s hard pec, struggling to sit up. “It’s not what it looks like.”
He shifts underneath me, and I look into those clear blue eyes. One edge of his mouth quirks.
“What,” he says slowly, “do you think it looks like?”
The male cop clears his throat. “We’ll just give you a second.”
Maxine wipes tears from her eyes, pressing one hand to her chest. “Oh my God.” She stops laughing long enough to offer a sympathetic hug. “And then you gave each cop an autographed book?”
“It seemed like the least I could do.” We’re drinking coffee in the kitchen, Maxine leaning on the granite-topped island while I hover by the freezer. Is it too early to crack a pint of H?agen Dazs?
With a fortifying breath, Max gets down to business. “I’ve got a three-thirty today with some potential podcast guests.”
I gulp from my latte, shifting gears along with her. We confer on who’s next in the lineup and whether the sexologist should go before or after the gaming addiction specialist in our chat lineup.
“Thanks for taking care of that.” I love knowing Max has everything handled. “I sent you my new column last night.”
“I saw.” She kindly doesn’t comment that it was time-stamped at two in the morning. Sleep’s been eluding me, which might not be great for my muse. “How’d the meeting go with Preston’s PR guru?”
“Fine.” I drain the last of my latte, then tuck the cup in the dishwasher before Max can wash it. “They’re seeing an uptick in sales that they’re crediting to that viral video.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“Kinda.” I’d never complain about book sales. “But it means they’d like us to get back out there on book tour.”
“Promoting How’s That Working for You , you mean?”
“And my earlier books.” Not the worst problem to have. “They’d rather have us pushing a new book, but?—”
“All in good time.”
“Right.” Guilt grabs my throat and doesn’t let go. The clock ticks faster on my writing deadline. I try to ignore it as I scoop up my car keys. “I’m heading out.”
“Anything I can help with?”
“Nah, I’ve got it.” In all the chaos last night, I forgot to give Kaleb the signed hardback for Zoe. “I’m taking a book to Cassidy’s librarian sister.”
“You’re going to the library?”
“Uh, no.” I feel like a teenager caught sneaking out to meet a guy. “She’s at Kaleb’s garage.”
“Of course she is.” Max masks a smile as I pause in the kitchen’s arched entry.
“Speaking of sparks,” I say, “I forgot to ask how things went with Peter’s sister.”
“Good.” Maxine’s smile spreads slow and delighted. “Great, actually. Sam’s amazing . Smart and funny and gorgeous, obviously.” She’s smiling so big it takes up her whole face. “She invited me to visit her wildlife rehab center.”
“That sounds fantastic.”
“I think so.” She pauses with her mug halfway to her lips. “Aside from the police drama, did you have fun at dinner?”
“I did.” I don’t know why I sound surprised. “Everyone’s so kind. Hazel seems tense right at first, but she’s sweet and so quietly watchful of everyone else in the family.” I hear Kaleb in my head teasing me about diagnosing people at dinner parties, which I definitely didn’t do. “Cassidy’s fabulous. Whip-smart and sophisticated, but also totally perfect for Jake.”
“The grumpy fisherman?” Max smiles. “I liked him, too. And Peter! Sam says he walked away from this crazy high-powered law career and now he’s a small-town private investigator with a fiancée and stepdaughter he adores.”
“They all seem like really good people. Pretty sure I filled my monthly quota of hugs just from Lucy and Cassidy.” I’m surprised how great it felt to be embraced by strangers.
Max looks thoughtful. “Might be nice to have some female friends while you’re here.” She studies my face like she sees something I haven’t. “I know it’s been tough without Grace.”
Swallowing hard, I nod. “I have you .”
Max does a sympathetic head tilt. “You need more friends than me.”
“There’s Camille in L.A.” True, I don’t see my pal more than twice a year. “And my brother’s wives.” Admittedly, I haven’t seen them in ages. “I’ve been meaning to get closer with them. They’re both really sweet. Samira and Cathy?”
“Katie.”
“Right.”
Fine. Max makes a good point. I might be missing some close female friendships. “Maybe I’ll plan a luncheon or something.”
Right after I finish this stupid book.
“Let me know if you need help organizing.” Max pulls out her phone and starts tapping away. “I’m asking Preston Publishing not to send balloons anymore.”
“Thanks, Max. For everything.”
“My pleasure, boss.”
I roll my eyes at the title. “Funny.”
Funny because we don’t have that kind of business relationship. My sister met Max in art school and the two became besties. When I needed a helper, Max stepped forward. She’s always felt more like a sibling than an employee, which I know might not be healthy.
One of many issues I should work on.
“Have fun at the auto shop,” Max shouts after me.
“Thanks.” I slip down the hall, grabbing my jacket off the peg by the door.
On the drive to the shop, I think about family. Kaleb’s, not mine, which seems funny.
I liked them a lot, though. There’s an easy affection between them, even newcomers not related by blood. So many personalities, each one unique.
That’s what Grace loved about travel. She’d set out on a trip to photograph lakes or some monument on the other side of the globe. Never once did she gush about waterfalls or cathedrals she saw.
“Know what’s great about seeing new places?” she’d say as she zipped up her bag.
“The food?”
“The people .” She’d flop on her bed, and I’d lie down beside her, part of me wishing she wouldn’t go. “Meeting new friends, getting to know perfect strangers so they’re not really strangers anymore.”
We had that in common, Grace and me. Not the friendships so much, but fascination with our fellow humans. It led Grace to photography and me to study the human psyche. It led us both to travel, in our own ways.
It also led Grace to her death.
Black clouds lick the sun as I park at the edge of the auto shop lot. I scan for Kaleb’s Bronco, spotting it off to the side. His tow truck’s beside it, parked by a car with a bumper sticker that reads, Support your local f’ing library.
That makes me smile.
Another sticker on the rear windshield reads, Get in, loser, we’re going to the library . Zoe’s here, so I’ve timed this out well. And with a witness, I’m less likely to climb Kaleb like a tree.
A cowbell chimes as I push through the door. There’s a tiny, dark-haired woman crouched in the corner, petting a dog that’s bigger than she is. Behind the counter, Kaleb stands with both arms crossed. “I’m not doing your fucking upholstery.”
Hello, customer service.
“C’mon, man.” A guy stands beside him in a dingy white ballcap marked with the words “ I’m not a gynecologist, but I’ll take a look.” He wears creased jeans and an alarming amount of cologne.
The customer looks at his watch. “I’ve gotta get to Salem by five.”
“Cool.” Kaleb points to the door. “It’s two hours northeast. You’ll make it in plenty of time if you leave now.”
With a put-upon sigh, the man pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ll pay extra, okay?” He checks his watch in case an hour’s passed since he looked ten seconds ago. “The stupid fucking dog chewed up my seats and no one else knows how to fix ’em. It says online you do it.”
“I do,” Kaleb says mildly. “But I won’t.”
“What the fuck, man?”
The dog whimpers softly and slumps her big head. The pink collar at her throat looks ragged and worn.
Zoe scratches the dog’s ears. “It’s okay, girl,” she murmurs. “You’re safe now.”
“What’s your fucking problem, man?” This guy’s not giving up easy.
“My problem?” Kaleb’s not raising his voice, but it’s coming out more like a growl. “You left her in the car. For twenty-four fucking hours . How would you like to be stuck in a car that long?”
“It’s not like it’s hot out.”
“Think you could hold your piss that long?” Kaleb glares. “Think you’d last without water or food?”
The guy makes a sound of exasperated fury. “It’s just a fucking dog!”
The oversized beast trembles in the corner. “It’s okay, good girl,” Zoe croons, petting her ears. “Ignore the mean man.”
“Fuckin’ A.” The guy rubs the back of his neck. “Look, I don’t have time for this shit. You saying you can’t fix my seats?”
“Not saying I can’t.” Kaleb’s not raising his voice. “I’m saying I won’t . A matter of morals, not skill.”
Zoe catches my eye with a wave of her fingers, but she keeps both hands on the dog.
“This is bullshit.” The man stalks toward the dog.
Zoe scoots back, scrambling to shield her.
“Stupid bitch,” he snarls.
Fury unfurls in Zoe’s eyes. She gets to her feet, tiny and shockingly fierce. “Excuse me?”
“Not you,” the guy snaps. “Her!” He jabs a finger at the dog, who ducks her head and quivers. “Come on. I saw a goddamn dog pound down the road. I’m done with this.”
He tries for the leash, but Zoe snatches it. “I don’t think so.”
“No one asked you, honey.” The man tries again and the dog barks once. “Stop making this difficult.”
“Out!” Kaleb’s voice booms off the walls. “Now.”
We all turn to face him, and my heart gives a lurch. This is what fierce Kaleb looks like. I’d be scared if I wasn’t kinda turned on.
“Now!” He stomps past the counter, shoulder-checking the man to shove open the door. “Get the fuck out of my garage or I’ll remove you myself.”
“What the hell?” The man scans Kaleb’s arms and the pissed-off furrow in his brow. He must reach the same conclusion I already have.
Kaleb could crush him like a bug.
“Fine.” The guy tries once more for the leash, but Kaleb’s shout stops him.
“ Without the dog.”
“But—”
“She’s staying with me.” Kaleb crosses his arms. “Go.”
Muttering under his breath, he stomps his way past me. “Dogs need a firm hand,” he grumbles to no one. “Gotta show ’em who’s boss.”
“And I’m showing you. ” Kaleb shoves the door wider so the man can walk through. “That’s a cigarette burn on her shoulder. Fresh.” He looks back at the dog, who cowers behind Zoe.
Kaleb doesn’t cower. He doesn’t back down either.
“You’ve got ten seconds to be out of my parking lot,” he snarls. “After that, I’m calling a cop friend who doesn’t take kindly to animal abuse.”
“All right, I’m going.” The man mutters a curse, then kicks a pile of tires in the corner. “Didn’t like the damn dog anyway.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” Zoe shouts after him.
I wait ’til the man revs his engine in the lot. “What was all that?”
Kaleb lets the door slam behind him. “Asshole spent the last fifteen minutes trying to convince me to fix his car’s ripped-up seats.”
“Which wouldn’t be ripped if he hadn’t left his dog in the car.” Zoe strides to the counter with the dog on her heels. “He got a hotel that didn’t allow dogs. Stuck her in the car without food or water while he gambled at the casino.”
“And he admitted that?” I glance at the dog, who’s the size of a small horse. Great Dane or something. Dipping her head, she tucks her long tail between legs the size of tree limbs.
Kaleb pulls a bowl from under the counter and stomps through a door marked restroom . Water starts running as Zoe sticks out her hand.
“We haven’t met officially, but I’m Zoe and you’re Brooke and I’m a huge fan.” Releasing my hand, she drops her gaze hopefully to the book sticking out of my bag. “Is that for me?”
“It is.” I pull out the two signed copies. “There’s one for you, one for the library’s collection.”
“Oh my God, you’re the best.” She snatches them both to her chest. “I always knew you’d be as cool in person as you are on your podcast.”
I laugh and look at Kaleb as he comes out of the restroom and gently sets the bowl by the dog. She gulps it greedily, keeping one wary eye on us.
“I need to run.” Zoe checks her watch. “Got an author chat at the library. Do you ever do them?”
“Book chats? Absolutely. I’ll have my assistant get in touch.” God, that sounds snobby. “Or I can swing by sometime to?—”
“No, that’s perfect.” She pats Kaleb’s arm on her way to the door. “Thanks for saving Ribsy.”
“Ribsy?” I look at the dog as Zoe sails out the door. “That’s her name?”
“It’s what Zoe called her,” he says. “It’s from a Beverly Cleary book.”
I check her collar for a tag, but there isn’t one. The dog rewards my effort with a lick to the back of my hand. “That jackass didn’t call her by name?”
Kaleb scowls. “The only thing that dickhead called her was ‘bitch’ and ‘stupid fucking dog.’”
Her big head droops, and Kaleb softens his voice. “Sorry, good girl. Want a biscuit?” He draws one from a jar on the counter and the dog’s ears prick to attention. “It’s all yours, sweetheart. Here you go.”
She gets to her feet and moves slowly, slinking to make herself smaller. “That’s the biggest dog I’ve ever seen.”
“I’ve seen smaller calves.” He stoops down to hand her the biscuit. “There you go. You like that?”
She must, since she wags her long tail. The swish knocks something off a low counter by the register.
“Oops.” I bend and pick up the iPhone. “Looks like she busted your screen.”
“Not my phone.” He looks approvingly at the dog. “Must be that asshole’s.”
“Good girl,” I tell her, and she wags some more.
Kaleb hands her another biscuit. “Maybe it’s fate, huh?”
For a second I think he means me. The fact that I’m here, that attraction’s still bubbling between us. “The dog,” I blurt quickly. “You were just saying how you wanted one.”
He rubs her big ears and the dog leans into him, absorbing affection like a big canine sponge. “Always pictured myself having a huge dog.”
“You’re sure she’s a dog? I’ve heard rumors Sasquatch lives in Oregon.”
Chuckling, he hands her another treat. “I’m glad you stopped by. Wanted to apologize again for last night.”
“For what?” I cross my arms so he can’t see my nipples perking up. “You treated me to my favorite home-cooked meal, drove me home safely, and fought off a would-be intruder.”
He chuckles again, stroking the dog’s neck in a way that leaves me jealous of the touch. “You’re forgetting the part where I took advantage of the situation.” He nods at my chest and heat rushes my cheeks. “And left you hanging with a busted bra.”
“I’m a big girl, Kaleb. We both got a little carried away, but it won’t happen again.” That doesn’t sound nearly as certain as I’d hoped. “Right?”
“Right.” His eyes search mine and he nods. “It was just a one-time thing.”
“Obviously.”
“Glad we agree.” He moves to grab something under the till. “I got you something.”
“Really?” I peel open the envelope he’s just handed me. “You didn’t have to—oh.” I stare at a pink and white gift card with Mischievous Mermaid printed at the top. Beneath the logo in tasteful black script, it says, your coastal connection for lovely lingerie .
“A friend of mine owns the place,” he says, and I look up with a start. “I know it’s kind of a personal gift, but I felt bad busting your bra.”
“That’s really sweet.” From any other guy I’d known less than two days, a lingerie shopping spree would be a creepy gift.
From Kaleb Spencer-King— “This is so thoughtful.”
“They’ve got tons of bras, and other girly stuff.” The look on his face seems equal parts hopeful and sheepish. “My sister loves that place. Says they carry all the nice brands.”
Something tells me that while Kaleb might not know La Perla from Bali, he damn sure knows how to remove it. “That’s very kind.” I tuck the card in my bag, wondering if I should say something more about last night. If it’s worth reiterating it can’t happen again.
But the big dog nuzzles my hand, and I pet her instead. “Are you a good girl?” I stroke her soft head, trailing my fingers down her neck. She flinches when I touch her shoulder. “I’m sorry.” I pull back my hand. “Are you okay?”
Kaleb drops to his knees and surveys the dog, cursing under his breath. “Another fucking cigarette burn.” He snatches his phone off the counter. “We’re going to the vet.”
He dials without looking up the number and asks for Annabelle Hanlon.
“Thanks, Belle,” he says once they’ve talked for a few minutes. “See you in a couple hours.” The first-name basis, the casual tone, says there’s history there. Have they dated, or does everyone know each other in small towns?
When he hangs up, I try not to pry. “The vet’s a friend of yours?”
“She’s dating my brother.”
“Mason?” He didn’t mention a girlfriend when we met last night.
“It’s not serious. Well,” he amends, “Mason wants it to be.”
“You sound dubious.”
“I don’t think they’re right for each other.” He shrugs. “Not my business. She’s a good vet, though. She’s squeezing in Ribsy at three.”
As he sets down the phone, the door swings open.
I turn as a woman in jeans shuffles through. She wears an oversized sweater in pale shades of blue, striped azure draping her delicate frame. Her long hair flows loose down her back, threaded with silver and white. Spiderweb lines frame the edges of her eyes.
Ocean-blue eyes, just like?—
“Mom.”
I turn to see Kaleb’s face drain of color. He stares like he’s seeing a ghost, which… he sort of is.
This is Sarah Lou Spencer.
I should go.
“Kaleb.” The woman steps forward, lifting a palm like she might touch his arm. Kaleb flinches.
She drops her hand, twisting her fingers together in a ball. “Hello.”
Ribsy snuffles Kaleb’s leg as he stares at his mother like the Tooth Fairy just walked in asking for tires. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t even move.
I shouldn’t be here. It’s a private reunion, one I shouldn’t intrude on. Inching back, I offer a feeble wave. “I’m just going to?—”
“Stay,” Kaleb says, and I freeze.
His mother turns those azure eyes on me. “Oh,” she says softly, her mouth forming a perfect circle. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I can—” She draws a sharp breath, eyes sweeping over my face. “You’re Brooke Braham.”
“I am.” I dart a glance at Kaleb, who stares like he’s hypnotized.
“Lucy said you’re in town. Welcome.” Her cheeks flush pink as her eyes dart to Kaleb again. He’s gone stiff as a board, so she turns back to me. “Your podcast meant a lot to me when I was in—while I was going through?—”
“Rehab.” Kaleb clears his throat. “You’re here.”
“I am.” She glances at me, so shy and unsure that I ache to embrace her. I know without touching her that she’d hug just like Lucy.
“You look…healthy.” Kaleb clears his throat. I wait for him to continue, but that’s it. He’s a flesh and blood statue, not moving except for one hand on the dog’s head. He’s scratching her ears, long fingers massaging a circular pattern. I wonder if he knows he’s doing it.
Sarah Lou looks at me like I might have the answers. I don’t, but maybe I can help cut the tension. “Welcome,” I offer. “Is this your first time seeing Kaleb’s shop?”
“I—well—yes.” She gives a weak smile as she surveys the space. The neat stacks of tires with for-sale signs printed in orange and red. Tidy racks of tools I couldn’t begin to identify. The low section of counter near the till with a wheelchair icon on the floor in front of it.
“This is nice,” she says.
“It’s a garage,” Kaleb mutters. “Not a day spa.”
“I’m aware.” Sarah Lou presses her lips together. “I always knew you had the head to be a business owner.”
Kaleb says nothing to that. Why is he being so stiff? I get that it’s awkward, that there’s so much emotional baggage. But she’s here, she’s trying, so I try, too.
“You know, I haven’t actually heard the story of how Kaleb started this place.” I turn with a smile I hope invites sharing. “How did Spencer-King Auto come to be?”
Kaleb looks at my mouth like he’s not sure how words form. Then he clears his throat. “I found a flyer on the door of my apartment. This place was a mechanic’s shop, but it was being foreclosed. I never would have known about it.” He stares at his mom like he’s gauging her reaction. “I sure as fuck couldn’t have afforded it, but then a postcard showed up in the mail. Junk ad, I thought.”
“What was it?” I’m entranced by the story.
His throat rolls as he swallows. “One of those notices urging me to check the Oregon Treasury website. There’s this tool where you search your name to see if you’ve got any unclaimed property.”
“And did you?” His mother meets his gaze head on. “Have unclaimed property?”
He scrubs a hand over his chin, looking pensive and guarded. “A savings account I didn’t remember starting as a kid. There was a lot of money in there. A lot . With interest. it was just enough to buy this place.”
Her shoulders relax just a little. “Isn’t that something? A sign, right?” Sarah Lou looks at me with a timid smile. “He was always my little sign seeker. A feather on the ground meant we should go feed seagulls on the beach. An ache in his tummy meant it might rain.”
“Not a wild guess on the Oregon Coast.” He doesn’t quite smile, but at least he’s not scowling. “A melted cone on the sidewalk meant we should go for ice cream.”
“Or a dog collar,” she laughs. “Remember that?” She’s lighting up slowly, a spark in her eyes that wasn’t there when she showed up. “You found that ratty collar on the beach and tried to convince me we needed a dog. That the universe said it should happen.”
A muscle ticks in Kaleb’s jaw. “You said we couldn’t have one. There were too many mouths to feed, and with Dad gone all the time?—”
“You’re right, it was too much.” She folds her arms like she’s hugging herself. “And I was sick—so sick. I didn’t know how to get well.”
“And now you know.” He doesn’t sound convinced.
“More than I have before.” Her chin tips up. “I’m healthier than I’ve ever been, and look—” Her eyes spark again as she points to Kaleb’s new guest. “You got your dog. She’s a beauty. What’s her name?”
“Ribsy,” he says, so softly I almost don’t hear.
The sun rises in Sarah Lou’s face. “Ribsy, like your favorite book. The one you read as a kid?” She looks to me when Kaleb doesn’t respond. “He must’ve read every book Beverly Cleary ever wrote. He dragged those things everywhere. Remember that?”
She’s talking to him, but he doesn’t answer. Just a barely perceptible nod.
It’s enough that his mother keeps going. “Once, when he was eight, he tried to run away from home. Things were chaotic with so many kids. I was pregnant again, and Jake was just ten. Too young to be in charge.”
She trails off there, and Kaleb’s jaw clenches. I remember his words in the tow truck that morning we met.
Parentification , a system in which kids are left in charge in developmentally inappropriate ways.
This is all making sense now.
“Anyway,” she continues, “Noah was four and the twins must have been six or seven.”
“Six,” Kaleb says. “Mason and Lucy were six.”
“Right.” She’s relieved he’s playing along. “We had this inside joke, Kaleb and I. We’d joke about Gold Beach. It’s this nothing little town on the southern Oregon coast, but to him it sounded magical.”
“I’d never been.” His voice startles me. “When I got in a pouty kid snit about running away, that’s where I thought I should go.”
She laughs, long arms hugging her body. “He loaded up his wagon—you remember that little wagon?” At his nod, she keeps going. “All his Beverly Cleary books went in there, plus this ratty stuffed porpoise and his rock collection. Two peanut butter sandwiches. Oh! And the rock identification guide we had. He made it as far as Tidal Drive before my father found him.” With an awkward laugh, she searches his face. “Remember what Grandpa said?”
Kaleb stares, and I’m not sure he’ll answer. The only sound is Ribsy snuffling at his pant-leg.
“‘Come home,’” Kaleb says softly. “‘I know it’s not perfect, but you belong with the people who love you.’” The words play out in his face. “That’s what Pops told me.”
“That’s right.” Shimmery tears catch the light in Sarah Lou’s eyes. “You remember.”
“Of course I remember.” His jaw ticks again. “I remember everything.”
It doesn’t sound cruel, just resigned. And his mom doesn’t flinch. They’re entrenched in their roles, neither one sure where to go from this place.
“I know you’re not ready.” She sounds wispy and uncertain. “I’m not sure I am, either. I messed up so many times, so many ways, that I know there’s no going back. Only forward.” Her eyes search Kaleb’s as she takes a step back. “We can talk when you’re ready.”
Unfolding her arms, she digs in her pocket. I can’t see what she’s holding as she stretches to set it on the counter.
“I love you, Kaleb.” Sarah moves to the door. “It’s good seeing you again.” She doesn’t wait for a response as she turns to me. “Nice meeting you, Ms. Braham.”
“Brooke, please.”
“Brooke.” There’s a faint smile. “I hope to see you around.”
“Same.” I wish I could hug her, but I know that’s not right. I settle for lifting a hand in a wave. “Take care.”
“You, too.”
She’s almost at the door when Kaleb calls. “Mom.”
She turns with hope in her eyes. “Yes?”
He stares for a second, then draws a deep breath. “You’re right, I’m not ready. I’m not.” He shoves both his hands in his pockets and looks up at the ceiling. When his gaze drops back to his mom’s, something shifts. “But I do love you.”
“Oh, son.” Her eyes overflow, twin streams rolling down her cheeks. “That’s—that’s a start. I love you so much.”
“Right.” Kaleb clears his throat. “I should get to work.”
“Of course.” She hesitates, then nods. “Take care, Kaleb.”
With that, she walks out the door.
I draw a deep breath and turn back to Kaleb. I can’t read his face, but it’s etched with a mixture of sharp pain and hope.
“That was a lot.” What else should I say? “I can only imagine it’s painful. If you need to tal?—”
That’s all I get out when his mouth crushes mine. The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s raw and primal and hungry, but in the best way. Like he’s funneling all of his feelings through the kiss.
When he finally draws back, his eyes lock with mine. “Thank you.”
I blink. “For the kiss?”
“For being here.” He draws a long, ragged breath. “I wasn’t ready to see her. I’m still not ready. But having you here made it better.” He looks at my mouth and winces. “Sorry. I guess I got carried away.”
“Perfectly understandable.” My lips tingle. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
It’s such a lie that we both look away.
Then Ribsy gets up and walks toward the counter. Dipping her head, she slurps from the bowl that Kaleb set down. “Good girl,” he says, and her tail starts to wag.
Clang!
A rock hits my shoe, and I stare at it. “That’s what your mom left on the counter?”
Kaleb stares like it might bite my toe. “Agate.”
“Oh.” I bend to get it, then hold it out for inspection. “Like the ones Harper showed us?”
“That’s a blue lace agate.” As he stares at the rock, his expression turns stony.
“It’s pretty,” I say, setting it back on the counter. “I’ll have to keep an eye out on the beach.”
Kaleb’s jaw clenches. “They’re not found around here.”
“Oh.” Interesting. “That’s?—”
“I need to see you again.”
I blink. “Okay.” Does he mean a date, or a professional consult? Maybe just friendship.
“It can be whatever you want.” Kaleb drags a hand through his hair. “Fuck, I don’t know. I’m hot for you, obviously.”
“Same.” I probably shouldn’t admit that.
But we’re being honest, right?
“I enjoy your company,” I say. “And we’re both going through some stuff.”
He nods like he’s latching on to this idea. “We can support each other.”
“Sure.”
“It doesn’t have to be anything sexual or romantic.”
“Of course.” We might both be kidding ourselves. “Neither one of us is in a place right now to get involved.”
“It says so right in your book.” One edge of his mouth twitches up. “No romantic entanglements in the first year.”
“We won’t be doing that.”
“Agreed.” He smiles like we’ve just settled something. “So we’ll just be platonic, supportive friends who hang out together sometimes.”
“Perfect.” I stick out my hand and he stares for a second, then wraps his big palm around it. “Deal.”
He keeps shaking my hand for a minute at least. It’s the most sexually charged handshake ever. My fingers tingle, my ears start to ring, and electric bolts shoot up my arm.
“Friends,” he says.
“Just friends,” I agree.
Do both of us know that we’re lying?