Chapter Twenty-Three
Kayden
I’m just getting out of the shower when I hear hushed voices from the kitchen. Emily’s, and a much deeper one, imploring yet gentle, a voice I know like I know the sound of my own at this point. My heart almost leaps out of my chest. Caleb.
I eye the neatly folded clothes Emily has left for me on top of the toilet, then the pile on the floor.
Caleb’s sweatshirt and shorts, his boxer briefs.
His clothes are so baggy and comfy, almost like a safe shelter I can hide in, but Emily is right, they stink, and I don’t need to hide.
Caleb will see all of me anyway. My panic, my fears, my pain.
He’ll see past all the layers and see everything just like he always does.
I throw on a pair of Emily’s briefs, along with the pale lavender sweatpants and the long-sleeved T-shirt she’s left for me.
I borrow Emily’s toothbrush and quickly brush my teeth, then try to smooth down my unruly curls.
They’re wet, and some of them stay in place, while others stick out from my head like small spirals.
I take in my reflection in the mirror. My eyes look huge in my face, dark, bluish circles underneath, the eyelids puffy from crying.
The tip of my nose is red too, like I have a cold, and my lips are chapped from biting them.
What will Caleb see when he sees me? Will he see a mess, someone who runs away when things get tough?
Will he see someone he doesn’t want after all?
I focus on the sound of his voice over the phone.
The edge of panic, followed by the evident relief when I answered.
I could almost hear a stone fall from his chest. Then again, Caleb has always worried about me.
Maybe he’s just coming to reassure himself I’m okay before he breaks it off with me.
The familiar sensation of my thoughts threatening to spin me out of control washes over me.
It’s not dysphoria exactly; it’s more this deep-seated fear of falling short, of not being enough.
Not just of not being enough of a guy, but as a person in general.
I breathe through my nose, focusing on my breath, as my head spins and spins, a ringing tone pushing at my eardrums as that awful, nauseating tunnel vision takes over.
Bile rises in my throat, and I start shaking, my legs turning into Jell-O.
I claw at the sink, the porcelain cool against my hands.
I jump when there’s a soft rap on the door, followed by Emily’s voice. “Kayden? You okay?”
Am I okay? No. I want to sink to the floor and curl in on myself and ignore the world, but I know I can’t. Caleb won’t go away, neither will Emily, and the truth is, I don’t want them to.
“I’m okay. Coming.” I push away from the sink, then rub my hands across my face. I can do this. Whatever happens, I’ll be okay.
I open the door slowly. Emily smiles, then murmurs, “Caleb’s here,” and nods over her shoulder at the kitchen.
I lick my dry lips, and Emily reaches out and tries to flatten down one of my curls.
“Impossible,” she chuckles. “Doesn’t matter.
You are perfect just like this, K, just the way you are.
” Tenderness pools in her eyes. “I’ll be in my room, give you guys some space, but you call if you need me, okay? ”
“Okay,” I whisper. “Thanks, Em.”
“Of course.” She hugs me before disappearing into her room.
I stand in the hallway, the walls covered with stickers, posters, and so many photos of Emily and me, where we make faces at each other or at the camera.
Years and years of friendship and memories together.
I have Emily, and that won’t ever change.
When I enter the kitchen, I find Caleb with his back to me, his hands grabbing the edge of the counter, his knuckles white, his broad shoulders slumped.
He’s in worn jeans, a simple white tee with what looks like smears of black paint on the back, and his beat-up leather boots.
The laces hang loose, untied. He looks as disheveled as I feel, like he was in a hurry and just threw something on out of reflex, not noticing the old paint stains or bothering to tie his laces.
His posture is tense as he stands there, anxiousness pouring off his body.
“Hi,” I say, and my voice sounds oddly loud in the small kitchen. He turns in a flash, his hair all mussed up like he’s been pulling at it repeatedly. A light dusting of scruff coats his jaw, and I notice the dark circles under his eyes, so similar to mine.
“Hi,” he rasps, and the expression on Caleb’s face tells me everything I need to know.
The fear, the uncertainty, the pain. It’s like looking into a mirror and seeing someone who is not you, but is like you, and who feels everything you are feeling.
Longing flashes through Caleb’s eyes, and something clicks into place inside me.
He still wants me. He loves me. He’s just as big a mess without me as I am without him.
He is still mine. They say the eyes are a mirror to the soul, and looking into Caleb’s eyes right now, I know the truth, and what will always be the truth.
He will always be mine. How Caleb feels about me transcends everything.
It will never end. We will get through this.
Wordlessly, I walk toward him, and when I’m halfway there, he holds out his arms, relief pooling in his eyes, his jaw clenched and tight, like he’s struggling not to run to me.
I walk directly into his arms, and he wraps himself around me, a deep, shaky sigh leaving his body, a sigh that feels like he’s been holding it in since I fled from his house yesterday.
Oh God, was that only just yesterday? It feels like a lifetime ago since I was last in his arms.
“Thank God,” he whispers against my forehead again and again.
“Thank God, baby. You scared me.” And his body shivers like he’s only just now allowing himself to feel it, how scared he was.
I fist my hands in his shirt and just cling to him, allowing the tears to fall freely again.
He holds me against him like he’s afraid I’ll disappear into thin air if he lets go.
“Fuck, sweetheart. Don’t ever leave me like that again.
Don’t ever—” His voice breaks, and then his lips are on me, everywhere he can reach.
My temples, my cheeks, my chin, my lips, my neck.
Everywhere. He covers me in urgent kisses like he’s trying to familiarize himself with me again.
Like he’s mapping me out, making sure it truly is me and that I am real.
“I won’t,” I speak against his lips. They taste salty, and I’m not sure if they are from my tears or from his because Caleb is crying too.
“I promise. I promise.” I bury my face in his chest and breathe him in, filling my lungs with the smell of him, of the man I love, and who loves me back.
I have a thousand questions, but none of them matter right now.
Whatever we have to face, we’ll face it together.
From now on, there’s only a we, an us, and for the first time in my life, it feels like I’m no longer in freefall, fumbling blindly, but know my direction.
I trail my hands up his arms and his shoulders, snaking them around his neck, locking my wrists together, then jump into his arms, pulling a surprised laugh from Caleb’s chest. And now it’s my turn.
I litter his face with kisses, his scruff raspy against my lips, chafing my nose as I nuzzle his neck.
I suck his skin into my mouth, probably leaving a mark, but Caleb just groans in response, leaning into the kiss, chasing my touch.
“I promise.” I speak the words against his skin, imprinting them there forever, making sure he feels it all the way inside, feels the truth of them.
A low growl grows in Caleb’s chest, then moves up his throat, and I chase it with my lips, trying to catch it. I want that growl. I want all his sounds, all his noises, like I want the rest of him, every part of him.
“Baby,” he breathes. “Baby, baby, baby.” Like a chant, a mantra, a song. “My love,” he adds.
My love.
No one’s ever called me that before. It’s so quaint and archaic, almost, but somehow it fits. I am his love, just as he is mine.
“Caleb.” I squirm in his arms. I want closer. I need to be closer still, until I won’t be able to tell where I end and he begins. Until my breath becomes his breath, and his heartbeat becomes mine.
“I’m here.” His breath fans across my face.
“I’m right here.” His large hands cradle the back of my thighs, locking me safely in his hold.
His muscles flex underneath my fingers. He’s so strong, not just physically, but to his very core.
So loyal in his love for me. It’s that strength that made him come for me even when I told him not to.
It’s that unwavering belief in us that will always make him come for me and be there for me when I need him.
“I love you.” I kiss the words against his chest, his heart. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, sweetheart. So fucking much.” He holds me tighter, squeezing me to the point where I can’t breathe, but it feels so fucking good to be wanted, to be needed, to be loved like that. “Shit, K, it felt like I was gonna die without you, like there was no air without you.”
“It felt like that for me too,” I admit. It truly felt like there was no air. Like my lungs were struggling and struggling to no avail.
Caleb swallows, a pained sound leaving him, like he’s purging the last remnants of worry from his body. “Say that we’re always gonna be together, baby. Please. Say that you’re mine now, for good.”
I cradle his chin in my hands. I search his face. I have always known this man, and now my heart knows him too. It knows he’s mine. I think it always knew. I lick my lips, and they taste of him. “We are always going to be together.”
He nods solemnly. “Say it again. All of it.”
I laugh at the imploring edge in his voice. I could get used to that. It’s so… vulnerable and endearing. “We are always going to be together. I promise. I am yours. For good.”
His face relaxes, his eyes like two pools of endless gray, threatening to swallow me up and make me a part of him.
I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all. I ghost my lips against his, and an outdrawn shiver wracks through his body.
I dip out my tongue and lick along his bottom lip, and he opens for me, his breath hot and hurried against my skin.
I close my eyes and surrender to the sensation of having him so close again.
Something unfurls in my chest, a lightness, and it’s like I’m floating.
Caleb sucks my upper lip into his mouth and hums, the sound spreading through my body like liquid heat.
“You taste so sweet, sweetheart, when you’re free,” he hums, and it’s true.
I finally feel free. His tongue pushes inside my mouth, soft and wet.
Insistent. And now I’m the one humming, whimpering, sucking on his lips and tongue like a famished man.
He tastes of coffee and something sweet.
He tastes like home. Home, my heart sings. Home.
“Home,” Caleb repeats.
I chuckle, blinking my eyes open. “Huh?”
His nose nudges my chin teasingly, a smile in his voice when he says, “You said home, sweetheart.”
“Oh.”
“You wanna go home?” He speaks the words with such carefulness, with such intent.
I nod against his lips, because yes, that’s what I want. With him, with my Caleb. “Yes, I want to go home. Please take me home, Caleb.”