Chapter 28 #2
I kick off my shoes and shimmy out of my jeans before unhooking my bra and pulling it through my sleeves.
When I collapse on the bed, I consider cracking open the book Dad sent me, sitting untouched on my nightstand, but decide I’m still not ready to dig into other families’ deceptions when I’ve barely faced my own.
Ready to put this day behind me, I crawl under the covers.
Caleb creeps up the stairs, Houdini following, and I bolt upright.
“You shouldn’t be up here.” I glance around as if we’re being watched.
“Says who?” Caleb scoffs. He holds up a plate. “Hungry?”
I shake my head. “Just tired.”
“You should eat.” He sets the plate on the dresser.
“You should go,” I say, but he sits on the edge of the bed, one hand on my thigh over the duvet. Houdini rests his chin on the bed, and I scratch him behind the ears. Dogs always seem to know when their people need comfort.
“Do you want me to go?” Caleb asks.
“No.” But I withhold my deeper wants—for him to spend every night with me, to wake every morning with him beside me.
I’ve had him naked, inside, over, and under me.
I’ve touched every inch of him and felt his mouth on my skin.
But still, I fantasize about that night in the cabin, his body wrapped around mine, holding me together as we slept.
Caleb stands, tugs his shirt over his head, and strips to his boxers before settling beside me. “I’ll leave before your mom is up.”
Perhaps we’re fooling ourselves, but it’s enough reassurance for me to pretend it’s a good idea. I fold myself into him, resting my head on his chest and tangling my leg between his.
“Is my mom okay?”
“She’s like you—emotional and ready to make it right. You two will get there.” Caleb presses a kiss to my forehead.
“We seem to have a track record of screwing it up. How can you be so confident?” I inch closer, tracing the outline of his cheekbone with a fingertip.
I’ve never loved someone’s face as much as I do his—the angles and slopes, the hard bridge of his nose, the texture of his beard, the softness of his lips.
He hums. “Because you’re ready, and it’s all about timing.”
Is it, though? I’ve had opportunities to reconnect with Mom in the last two decades.
She always showed up, making the long drive at every big moment—graduations, bridal shower, wedding, birthdays, random Sunday afternoons I’d offer as a pittance.
She’s been waiting. Hoping. Longing. If I had accepted an invitation all those years ago, if I had made my peace and visited, perhaps I would have remembered how much I loved this place, how much I loved Mom and Sonny.
Maybe that’s what scared me, being unable to cling to the solace of my rage.
“You know”—I drag my finger across his lower lip—“if I hadn’t been so stubborn, maybe we would have met sooner.” I imagine Caleb and me, both bitter and wounded, and I wonder what our alchemy would have been then.
Caleb opens his eyes and bites the tip of my finger before soothing it with a kiss. “We would have been a disaster. Like flint and steel, burning this whole place down.”
I laugh. “It’s not too different than how we are as grown-ups.”
Caleb chuckles and slips his hand under my shirt, resting it on my lower back. “We’re a safe, controlled burn now.” But there’s nothing safe or controlled about how I feel for him. “Maybe we met exactly when we were meant to.”
“You believe in fate?” I ask.
“I don’t know about all that. But I think sometimes we’re pawns, and we don’t know the impact of a move until the entire game is played.”
“That’s a bit fatalistic.”
I feel him shrug. “It helps to know that our tragedies might be blessings. If my stepdad hadn’t run me out of town, I wouldn’t have found Sonny. I wouldn’t have had Abby.”
I wish I thought like that, and perhaps I would if my tragedies had led to something beautiful instead of loss and increasing numbness.
Caleb continues, “If things hadn’t happened like they did, I wouldn’t have met your mom. I was a teen when I showed up here, but I hadn’t done any growing up yet. She raised me. Sonny was the best, but he had this . . .” He pauses. “I think Abby calls it toxic positivity.”
I snort laugh, and the fondness and warmth are heavy on my heart. Sonny was a glass-half-full-of-magic-potion type of guy.
“I didn’t get him at first, with all his campfire songs, animal-print tube socks, and cheesy jokes.”
“I bet.” I laugh, and it feels good to remember him fondly.
“But your mom and I were in the same place—mourning something too tough to talk about. Trying to start over. I think she had just gotten here after everything went down with you and your dad. We were good for each other. Nicki spoke to me like I was worth something, like my pain mattered, and showed me that not all people wanna hurt you.”
I squeeze Caleb tighter. “I’m glad you had each other.”
“I don’t know what I would have done without her.
When I found out Lina was pregnant”—he clears his throat—“I was scared to death. There was a moment where I thought about running. I didn’t think I could be a dad.
The only model I’d had was my stepdad. And the thought of being like him petrified me. ”
I cup his face and turn his cheek to capture his gaze. “You’d never be like him.”
“Your mom sat me down. Told me that being a parent is the best thing in the world. That it would bring me more joy than I could imagine. That I wouldn’t always get it right, but if I left, I’d never regret anything more.”
He watches for my reaction, his eyes darting between mine.
But I don’t know how to respond. Because I forced my mom from our home, Caleb had a mother figure.
My mom’s regret prevented Caleb’s. Because I had an absent parent, Abby had an attentive one.
Maybe there is a grand plan. Maybe we are all pawns, and there’s some purpose for each loss, some net positive released into the universe when a heart breaks.
But I don’t want to be a pawn anymore. I don’t want to be too scared to play the game and take the risks. I don’t want to just hold on to the thing that won’t hurt me. Instead, I want to reach for what will make me happy.
Caleb makes me happy. Grand Trees makes me happy. A second chance with Mom. That might make me happiest of all.
“Maybe we did meet when we were meant to, exactly when I needed you,” I say, and it’s enough for now. I should take some time to think, to contemplate this crazy change I’m considering—moving here, risking everything for a fresh start.
“Funny, I think I’ve always needed you.” Caleb nudges my chin up and kisses me, and it’s slow and decadent, sweet and tender, like we have all the time in the world, like we belong in this tiny part of the universe together.
It isn’t long before our hands wander, our clothes come off, and I show him the words I can’t yet say.
The words, I suspect, I’ve never felt before him.
I kiss my way down his body, taking him into my mouth, tasting him and relishing his gasp and the way his hands fist at his sides when his restraint slips, knowing he wants to be gentle with me.
I’ve never enjoyed this before, usually in my own head and too self-conscious—but I lose my reservations as he responds, ignoring him when he says he’s close, offering me an out.
Instead, I take him deeper, savoring him as he swells against my tongue and surrenders to his pleasure.
Afterward, when we’ve explored each other, when I’ve come apart in his arms on a swallowed scream, when we’re sated and spent, he holds on to me like we’ll wake up like this tomorrow and the next day and the next. Like we get to choose forever.
“You should stay in Grand Trees,” he says, his voice heavy with impending sleep.
“Really?” I’m grinning, and I’m sure he can hear it in my voice.
“Yeah. ’Cause I’m falling in love with you,” he says, just like that—like maybe the universe does have a plan, and we’re it for each other.