Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Caleb
I wasn’t a big talker in person, even less on the phone.
I’d been holding mine for the last fifteen minutes, going back and forth on whether to make the call.
Now was the time to do it. Jesse was in his room for the night, and if I waited any longer, it’d be too late.
This hesitation wasn’t like me. Once I made up my mind to do something, I got it done.
Finding no real reason to stop myself, I sighed, punched in Alice’s number, and tucked my phone against my ear. She answered on the third ring.
“Caleb?” Surprise and wariness threaded through my name, which I thoroughly deserved.
“Hey, Allie.” I did as best I could to blanket her name in assurance. “You left without saying goodbye.”
There was a pause then almost a strangled sound. “I know. I feel bad about that. I texted your mom, but—”
“You didn’t have to go.” I sat on the edge of my bed, facing a window. There wasn’t much to see unless I looked up. At night on the ranch, the endless sky was where the magic happened.
“Hannah was worried about Cormac,” she explained. “I thought it was better to give everyone privacy, but I do feel terrible for not saying goodbye.”
My brow dipped at her regretful tone. “You don’t need to feel bad. No one was offended, I promise you.” I cleared my throat. “Cormac was upset.”
“I did gather that.”
I chuffed at how prim she sounded as she sassed me. “Yeah. Figured you did. You’re probably wondering what’s going on.”
“Sure. I’m human, so I’m curious, but it isn’t my business. You don’t have to explain.”
“It’s not a deep, dark secret or anything, and I don’t think my brother would mind if I explained.” I shoved my fingers through my hair. “My parents got a wedding invitation in the mail for their college friends’ daughter. Cormac spotted it on the coffee table, and he—well, you saw how he reacted.”
“Oh,” she whispered, tickling my ear. “Through context clues, I’m guessing he isn’t happy about the marriage.”
My mouth hitched. The way she spoke was different from anyone I knew, and I liked it.
“Cormac is as easygoing as they come, but when it comes to Zara Vasquez, he’s a closed book.
No, don’t think he’s happy she’s getting married.
He doesn’t like the guy. That’s part of why he and Zara fell out years ago.
It’s sad, but I’m hoping this is what it’ll take for him to move on. ”
Killed me to see my brother down. He had always been a happy kid and had grown into an affable man, but on this subject, he was weighed down by a darkness he couldn’t seem to navigate himself out of.
He also refused to share the burden, even though he had to know any of us would have helped him take it on.
“Sometimes it takes a swift kick in the pants for moving on to happen,” she said, and I easily read between the lines. I’d been the kicker, and she’d moved on from me. “I’m sorry for Cormac, though. That can’t be easy.”
“No, but he’s got us to lean on. If only he’d take anyone up on it.” I rubbed my leg and dug my fingers into my knee. “Anyway, that’s what was going on tonight. I thought you should know.”
“Thanks for telling me, Caleb.”
“Yeah.” For once, I wasn’t ready to hurry off the phone. Alice’s voice was nice to listen to, and I had a few questions about what I’d learned tonight. “So you’ve written two books, huh?”
“Well, yes. But they’re middle grade, so they’re shorter—”
I frowned. “Don’t downplay your accomplishment. Remember what my dad said?”
There was a long pause before she murmured, “I’m an author.”
“Hell yes, you are.” I balled my fist on my knee. “And I’d love to read your books, Alice.”
She hmphed. “You have another book you need to finish first.”
Ah, deflection. I’d let her have it. As curious as I was, it wasn’t like I deserved to have a first look.
“You’re right about that.” I eyed the hardback on my nightstand. “I’m halfway through. Reading it on my own isn’t the same as reading it to you.”
“Well…” Something rustled on her end. I imagined it was her shifting around, curling her legs beneath her like she had when she’d spent time on my couch with me.
I hoped her living room was comfortable.
That she had lots of fluffy pillows to lean on, and a warm, fuzzy blanket to cover her.
“I have a little time before I need to get to bed. Would you like to read a chapter or two to me?”
I got stuck swallowing, so it took me a beat to respond. When I did, it came out choked. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“Mind listening to you read my favorite book?” Her laugh was a gentle breeze through the line. “No, Caleb. It wouldn’t be a hardship. That is…if you want to…”
“I want to,” I hurried. “I’d like it a lot.”
Picking up the book, I settled against the headboard and flipped to where I’d left off the night before. Alice was quiet, but I heard her soft breathing in my ear, waiting for me to get started.
So I did.
I read to her for a long time, past when I usually turned off the lights.
The book was good—compelling even—but it was the little noises she made that kept me going.
She’d read these words on her own dozens of times, but she reacted like it was the first. Gasps and hums pushed me to turn the page again and again, just to hear more.
When Alice yawned, I finally put my bookmark in the crack.
“Tired, Allie?”
“Mmmhmm. You must be too. Don’t you wake up at the crack of dawn?”
My mouth hitched. “I do, and I am. But it seems you’ve got me hooked.”
I could almost hear her smile. “I told you you’d love this story.”
“Yeah, the story…” I replaced the book on my nightstand and rubbed the grit out of my eyes. “Same time tomorrow night?”
“I can’t possibly turn that down.”
“Good. I’ll talk to you then. Night, Allie.”
“Good night, Caleb.”
We had a repeat the following few nights. Spent time talking about our days, then I read to her.
I didn’t dread picking up the phone to call her. It was kind of funny how quickly it became part of my nighttime ritual. A month ago, cracking open a book wasn’t even on my radar. Now, I looked forward to diving into the story with Alice on the other end of the line.
“I’m gonna need book two pretty soon,” I said.
“I’ll save it for you behind the desk,” she replied. “Will you want to read that one to me as well?”
“Probably.” I slid my hand over the protective plastic covering the book in my lap. “Maybe this is why I never got into reading. I needed a captive audience to read to.”
She laughed. “You know, that could be it. Personally, I love being quiet with a book, but I can see how some people aren’t meant for that. Some aren’t solitary creatures.”
“You think you’re a solitary creature?”
“I’m happy in my own company. I spend most of my days around a lot of people, so I enjoy having time to just be quiet.”
“I get that.” It brought up a few questions, but only one was safe to ask. “Do you think you’ll go back to work at Joy’s?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” she asked, genuinely puzzled.
“I don’t know…you’ve got a broken wrist. The last thing you need to deal with is drunk assholes in a bar.”
“Fortunately for me, Joy’s doesn’t attract too many of that kind. And when customers get out of line, Joy nips it in the bud pretty quickly. If she’d let me, I’d be back at work now. She’s making me wait until next week.”
I sat up straight, my brows rising. “Next week? You still have a cast. That’s too soon.”
“I’ll be fine. You know Joy. She’ll make sure of it.”
That didn’t reassure me like it should have. Joy was tough as nails. She’d do right by Alice. Still, I didn’t like the idea of her waitressing. Not when she was hurt—and not after what she’d been through.
“If it’s about money, I—”
She cut me off in a hurry. “Believe me, money isn’t a problem. I like working at Joy’s. If not for that job, I’d spend too much time on my own. It would be easy for me to become a shut-in.” Her voice gentled. “I appreciate your concern, Caleb. Really, I do. But I promise I’ll be okay.”
I rubbed a hand over my jaw, trying to dislodge the tight feeling.
“It’s not that I don’t believe you. I just…
” Just what? I didn’t know how to explain myself without sounding like a damn lunatic.
Like some overbearing jackass who didn’t trust her to make her own choices.
That wasn’t it. I did trust her. I didn’t like the thought of her being back in that bar, where anything could happen.
Joy was there, but she’d been there the night Bart had grabbed her, and she’d ended up bloody too.
She must’ve heard something in my silence, because she spoke again, softer this time. Like she was trying to comfort me. “You don’t have to worry so much. I’m not fragile.”
I wanted to argue she’d been through enough—that her bones were still mending along with the parts of her I couldn’t see. But I bit down on the urge. Hard.
Before I could say something I'd regret—or worse, something I meant—she changed the subject.
“Do you still want to read tonight?” she asked. “I could use a little escape.”
I exhaled, deciding to let her take the wheel. “Yeah. I definitely want to.”
We settled into it the way we had every night this week. I cracked open the book and started where we’d left off, my voice filling the quiet space between us. She hummed once, then again, and the tension in my shoulders began to ease.
Little by little, her sounds stopped, and her breathing slowed. She’d fallen asleep, but I was still wide awake. Wondering if she was in bed—if she was comfortable so she didn’t wake up with a crick in her neck tomorrow.
I closed the book, but I didn’t hang up right away.
Just sat there with the phone to my ear, listening to the rhythm of her breathing like it was some kind of lullaby I didn’t know I needed. I told myself I was giving her time to wake up, in case she’d dozed off for a minute. I was being polite.
The truth was, I stayed on the line longer than I’d ever admit to anyone.
Because for some reason, the sound of her sleeping calmed something in me I hadn’t even realized was restless.
I didn’t know what that meant. Didn’t try to name it.
I just listened.