17. Caleb
Chapter 17
Caleb
W e’re back at my cabin now. Or, rather, my lake house, as Aubrey keeps calling it. I concede that’s a more accurate description nowadays, given Grandpa’s upgrades.
The lumber for the new deck was delivered about an hour ago, while I was on today’s Zoom call with my rehab counselor. And now, Joe and I are getting everything measured and set up for my big project, while Aubrey and her mother throw a beach ball around with Raine at the shoreline.
“I was thinking the fire feature would go there,” I say to Joe, gesturing to the spot. “Do you think I should tap into the gas line or go with a propane tank?”
As Joe explains the pros and cons of each respective approach, my gaze drifts to movement on the quiet lake. There’s a guy sitting in a rowboat about a hundred yards out, and something about him doesn’t feel quite right to me. Is it my imagination, or is that guy staring at the women and Raine on the lawn?
The hairs on the back of my neck go up and my protective instincts flare. Could that be Ralph Beaumont? I haven’t seen a photo of the guy, so who knows; but I’m not willing to take any chances.
“I’ll be right back,” I mutter to Joe, before beelining toward the water’s edge. When I start walking, however, the guy in the small boat grabs his oars and starts paddling away, which only makes me even more suspicious. Paula said the custody lawsuit was filed yesterday, but she hasn’t confirmed whether Ralph’s been served. Did someone from the courthouse give him a heads up? Maybe someone in law enforcement, since Ralph’s a retired police officer?
My heart thrumming, I pull out my phone and tap out a quick text to Paula, asking if Ralph got served already, and also asking her to send a photo of him. As I press send on my text, Aubrey comes to a stop next to me.
“I saw a guy watching the house from a rowboat yesterday, too,” Aubrey says.
“Same guy?”
“Not sure. Yesterday’s guy was wearing a hat and mostly looking away. He was far out, too, like this guy, and the lighting wasn’t good.”
“What about the rowboat? Same one?”
“I don’t remember details about the boat from yesterday. I was more fixated on the guy who was inside it, giving me chills up my spine.”
“You think this guy or yesterday’s could be Ralph Beaumont?”
Aubrey shrugs. “The guy yesterday looked like every other old white guy, same as this guy. Same as Ralph. For all we know, that’s just a well-known fishing spot on the lake, and we’re being totally paranoid.”
I consider that. “Maybe. Either way, though, let’s bring Raine inside for a bit. I’m not taking any chances.”
“Goodnight, love,” Barbara says to Aubrey, giving her daughter a tight squeeze.
All four of us adults—Joe, Barbara, Aubrey, and I—spent the whole day with Raine at my house, and it went better than my wildest dreams. Raine hasn’t called me “Dadda” again, not since this morning in the Capshaws’ kitchen; but at least now I’ve got a mini-goal to work toward, as I continue working toward the larger one of getting Raine to trust me, completely.
After Aubrey completes her goodbyes to her parents, she turns to Raine, who willingly let me pick her up a moment ago. “Say goodnight to Grammy and Pop-Pop,” Aubrey says. “They’re going back home to sleep, while we stay here with Caleb—your daddy.”
“I go home sleep?” Raine asks.
“No, we’re both staying here with Coobie. Your daddy . But in the morning?—”
“I go home,” Raine says. This time, it’s not a question. It’s a command. She wriggles in my arms, so I set her down onto her pajama-clad feet, and the second she’s free, she toddles to Barbara’s legs and holds tight.
Aubrey crouches down. “Sweetheart, I’ll be here with you, all night, and?—"
“It’s okay,” I interject. “If she’s not ready to stay here yet, let’s not force it. It’s a marathon, not a sprint.” I look at Barbara. By now, it’s clear she’s the true leader of the Capshaw household, at least when it comes to decisions about Raine.
Barbara looks thoughtful. “I think she could handle it, if we insist.”
“I don’t want her to handle it. I want her to want to stay.” My decision made, I continue with, “We’ll come get her in the morning, after my Zoom call.”
“That’s probably for the best,” Barbara agrees. She gently taps Raine’s soft hair. “Come on, love. Let’s get you into the car and into bed.”
“Auntie Aubbey.” Raine reaches for her.
“No, honey,” Aubrey says. “I’m staying here.”
“You want to stay here with her?” Barbara asks hopefully.
Raine looks at Aubrey, and then at Barbara, like she’s tempted to change her mind and stay. But ultimately, Raine murmurs something I can’t make out. Something the rest of the adults who know her better interpret as a firm decision to join Joe and Barbara for their drive.
I thank Joe again for all his help with the deck today and walk the Capshaws to their car, while Barbara carries Raine. Before she straps Raine in, I pat my daughter on the cheek and wish her goodnight, and then stand next to Aubrey and wave goodbye with a fake smile on my face as the Capshaws drive away with my daughter nestled safely in their backseat.
“Today was good,” Aubrey says, as the car’s taillights disappear from sight down the dirt road.
“No, it was amazing.” I take a deep breath. “I need to go for a walk to clear my head. By myself.” I’m elated about today’s progress with Raine; but also disappointed today wasn’t enough to make Raine trust me. Both things can co-exist, it turns out. Elation and disappointment.
“Sorry, I can’t let you walk alone,” Aubrey says.
I grunt in frustration. “You still don’t trust me?”
“It’s not a matter of trust. It’s a matter of what I’ve promised, in writing, to do.”
I run a hand through my hair. Man, I could use a fucking drink right about now. Either that, or a really good fuck. But since neither option is available to me, I’ll settle for being alone on a long walk, followed by jerking myself off to fantasies of Aubrey Capshaw sucking my cock.
“I’ll put on sneakers, real quick,” Aubrey says, motioning to the flipflops on her feet.
“Never mind,” I grumble. “I’ll play my drums, instead. The whole point is for me to be alone, not to walk.”
“Suit yourself.” She frowns. “Actually, it’s pretty late for you to play your drums, don’t you think? If someone in a nearby house has a small kid to put to bed, they’ll be pissed off at you. Might even call the police.”
I stare at her, incredulously. I can’t drink. Can’t smoke a blunt or a bowl. Can’t fuck. Can’t walk alone. And now, I can’t even play my fucking drums to let off steam? Sounds like the only thing left, literally, is working out, taking a hot shower, and then getting into bed to jerk off to fantasies of Aubrey.
Unless . . .
My eyes shift to Joe’s parked truck on the side of the house. Prairie Springs is a ghost town after eight, but I bet the bars and liquor stores in Billings are open till much later, especially on a Saturday night. Billings is only about an hour away, after all. It’d be easy enough to go there and return before Aubrey wakes up, without her ever finding out what I did.
The idea rapidly gains steam inside my head. Yes. This could work. I’ll drive away tonight, after Aubrey falls asleep, with Big Betty in neutral and the headlights off. I’ll find myself a dive bar in Billings where I can relax and play some pool or darts. Nothing too crazy. And I won’t get shitfaced, obviously. Of course, not. I’d simply have one tall whiskey to unwind and recharge my batteries, and then I’ll come back here without anyone ever being the wiser. Frankly, I don’t see how this brilliant plan could possibly fail. Unless someone takes a photo or video of you tonight and posts it for the world to see, dumbshit.
Fuck.
What are the odds of that happening, though? People don’t recognize me nearly as much, when I wear a hat, for some reason. So, I’ll wear a hat and keep to myself in the bar. And if I happen to get made, nobody will know, for sure, what’s in my glass. If shit hits the fan later, I could tell Aubrey and my counselor, Gina, I was drinking a simple Coke. As a matter of fact, I’ll order a Jack and Coke, which isn’t my usual drink, so it’ll look the part.
“Caleb?” Aubrey says, her head tilted and her eyes boring into me. “You okay?”
My mind made up, I force a casual smile. “Yeah, I’m great. I think I’ll head straight into a shower and to bed. It’s been a long, exciting day.”
“Sounds good to me,” Aubrey says. “I’m in the middle of a good book.”
As we start walking toward the house, my skin is buzzing and my heart pounding. I shouldn’t do it. My brain knows that. But the plan is foolproof, really. And I’ll be more relaxed tomorrow, if I do this, which will be better for everyone.
“You were great with Rainey today,” Aubrey says. “I’m really proud of you.”
Guilt rips through me. Adrenaline. Doubt. Maybe I shouldn’t go, after all.
“Thanks. Couldn’t have done it without you.”
I open the front door for Aubrey, and she steps inside the house.
“Keep it up,” she says. “As long as you remain committed to Raine and to your sobriety, I have complete faith everything will go your way at the hearing in a month.”
Fuck. Can she read my mind, or was it sheer coincidence Aubrey mentioned my sobriety at this precise moment?
“Well, goodnight, Caleb,” Aubrey says. As she says it, my gaze drifts to her lips. To the curve of her neck. To her tits. Frankly, I’d much rather stay here and fuck Aubrey all night, than embark on some kind of nefarious field trip. But I feel like I’ve got no choice, given the situation. I need to do something to let off steam, and I’m gonna jerk my dick raw at this rate.
“Goodnight,” I manage, as tingles shoot through me. Again. It’s a constant occurrence by now. Unfortunately, it happens pretty much every time I think about kissing or fucking Aubrey, which I do constantly. Countless times per day, as a matter of fact.
Aubrey begins walking down the hallway ahead of me, but she abruptly stops and faces me before reaching her room. “Almost forgot.” She puts out her hand. “Car keys, please.”
Fucking hell. She’s relentless. And also, quite possibly, psychic.
“Aubrey, come on,” I say with a smile. “What am I gonna do? Sneak away under the cover of darkness and drive into town? Everything in Prairie Springs is closed by eight.”
“True, but everything stays open till much later in Billings, especially on a Saturday night.”
Jesus Christ. She’s scary.
I force a fake chuckle of indignation. “You think I’d risk all the progress I’ve made today and at rehab by secretly driving all the way to Billings for a stupid, fucking drink?” I chuckle again at the craziness of the thought. “I know full well someone might post a video of me, Aubrey. I’m not dumb.” I am dumb, though. Saying this shit out loud is making me realize just how fucking dumb.
“I don’t know what you might do, Caleb,” Aubrey shoots back calmly. “But if I have your keys tonight, then I won’t have to wonder.”
I’ve never felt more attracted to her or more grateful for her presence. Her intuition. Her smarts. I imagine myself marching over to her, taking her into my arms, and kissing that sassy, infuriating, brilliant mouth of hers, and then dragging her into my bed and fucking her to within an inch of her life, all night long.
That’s all I want. The chance to fuck this gorgeous woman. I’d take that over whiskey and weed, a hundred times out of a hundred. Why doesn’t she want that, too? It’s killing me to know my fierce attraction to her is one-sided. That never happens to me. When I want someone, I get them. Easily. So why the fuck isn’t Aubrey falling at my feet, like everyone else?
Aubrey waggles the fingers of her extended hand. “ Keys, Caleb. Come on. Don’t make me come over there and grab them out of your pocket.”
The thought makes my dick begin to harden, against my will. Suddenly, that’s all I want: the feel of her hand in my pocket, brushing against my growing hard-on. But, of course, I can’t force her to do that. She already told me no, clearly, when I tried to kiss her in the middle of her parents’ street yesterday.
With a sigh, I pull out the keys from my pocket and hand them to her. And then, mostly to keep Aubrey from seeing the bulge that’s now pressing against my jeans like a motherfucker, I turn and stomp down the rest of the hallway to my bedroom.
With each step I take, I feel more and more pissed off about the situation. More restless and rejected. Which is why, when I get to my door, I swing it open fiercely and barrel into the room in a huff, fully intending to slam the door behind me to communicate my displeasure. But when I’m just about to release the door, I hear Aubrey’s words from yesterday and stop myself.
No more slammed doors, Caleb.
You can’t control your emotions, but you can control your behavior in reaction to them.
Fucking hell.
More to prove I’m not the man-child Aubrey thinks I am than anything else, I gently close the door behind me with a soft and civilized click , despite how much I want to feel the satisfaction of a good slam. The door closed, I peel off my clothes, slide into bed, and deal with my raging hard-on; once again, while fantasizing about little miss rule-follower, Aubrey Capshaw, having a squirting orgasm all over my face.