9. Caleb
CHAPTER 9
CALEB
A t five-thirty on the dot, the front door eases open.
“What’s that?” Seda asks, swiveling around in her chair. Her mouth opens in surprise when Halle appears, but when Quinn and Casen step in behind her, that surprise quickly morphs into horror. “Dad!” she whisper-shrieks. “You didn’t tell me they were coming.” She looks down at her dirty shorts and top, eyes bulging, and hops to her feet. “I have to go change.”
Lightning fast, she’s off and running upstairs to her room.
Frowning, I follow her movements until she disappears, then assess our visitors.
What the fuck just happened?
“Is something wrong?” Halle asks, pulling me out of my confused stupor. “Did I get the time wrong? We can go if?—”
“No, no.” I usher her inside with a wave of my hand. “Come on in. Seda wanted to go change.”
Quinn and Casen look around the house, taking it in with matching expressions of awe.
“This house is sick,” Casen says.
“It’s cool,” Quinn adds, sliding his hands into the pockets of his pants.
The twins are identical, but when I met them the day they moved in, I noted that Quinn has a tiny mole above his lip. I’m impressed that I remembered. If not, there’s no way I’d be able to tell them apart.
“Thanks, guys. Drinks are in the fridge. Take whatever you want.”
“Sweet,” they mutter in unison, rushing toward the refrigerator.
Quinn, naturally, pulls out a bottle of Corona first.
I chuckle and arch a brow at him as I step into the kitchen. “Nice try, kid.”
He sends me a grin and puts it back.
“Quinn!” Halle scolds, her cheeks going pink. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“It was a joke,” he grumbles, grabbing a soda. “Lighten up.”
Halle shoots me an apologetic look, her fingers tangled together in front of her .
I shake my head. “I would’ve done the same thing at their age.”
“They know better.” She glowers at her brothers.
“Relax,” Casen says, popping the tab on a Coke. “We’re not going to turn into Mom. Have some faith in us.”
Quinn taps his sister on the shoulder. “Laugh some.” He pops the tab on a can of Sprite. “Try it with me. Ha, ha, haaa .”
With her lips turned down in a frown, she angles her body toward me. “I’m really sorry about that.”
“Seriously, it’s fine.” I snag the dishrag from the sink and wipe down the counter. “I’m glad they feel comfortable enough to joke.”
My words don’t erase her frown.
“Why don’t you head out back?” I suggest to the boys. “We’ll eat out there.”
“Cool.” Casen shrugs. “Come on, Quinn.”
Halle wraps her arms around her torso, watching them go. Once the door is shut behind them, she drops her focus to the floor in front of her. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be. They’re teenagers. I did worse at their age, I’m sure.”
Between one blink and the next, she perks up. As if when she smiles, she’s slipped a mask into place. “Is there anything I can help with?” She looks around at the various toppings I have laid out. “Please, put me out of my misery and give me a task.”
Laughing, I point to a tray of condiments. “You could take that out back. Ask your brothers what kind of quesadillas they want. We’ve got beef, chicken, and cheese. And what kind do you want?”
“Um.” With her lip caught between her teeth, she surveys all the fixings. “Cheese for me, please.” With that, she picks up the tray, balancing it easily on one hand.
“Were you a waitress?”
She whips her head around, her expression full of confusion, until she eyes the tray, and her posture relaxes.
She gives a tiny nod. “Yeah, I was. Habit, I guess.”
Halle heads out back, and I’ve barely gotten started on her quesadilla when Seda comes downstairs.
She’s changed into a clean pair of jean shorts and a t-shirt. Her hair is freshly brushed, and I swear she’s put on a bit of mascara and lip gloss. Though I didn’t think she even owned mascara. I’ll have to talk to Salem about that.
From the look of things, my daughter is crushing on the teen boys next door.
“You look nice.” I leave it at that. The last thing I want is to embarrass her.
She freezes at the bottom of the stairs. “But not too nice, right?”
“Uh…” I feel like I’m caught in a trap. Is there a right answer for this situation? “No, not too nice,” I hedge. “But nice enough.”
Fuck, I’m not ready for this. It’s inevitable that my baby girl will grow up and crush on boys, but that doesn’t make witnessing the changes any easier. There’s nothing like raising a kid to truly show a person how quickly time goes.
“Cool. That’s good. I think,” she mutters more to herself than me .
I arch a brow and leave it at that. “Cheese quesadilla for you, right?”
“Um…” She hedges, her eyes darting to the back door.
Halle breezes back in, tucking her light brown hair behind her ears. “They both want beef.”
Seda brightens, her back straightening. “I’ll have beef too.”
I narrow my eyes. “You never want beef. You always want cheese or chicken.”
Cheeks going pink, she darts a look at Halle. “I changed my mind.” She lifts her chin, shoulders pulled back in defiance. “I want beef.”
I lower my head to hide my amusement. “Seda, don’t ever change yourself to impress others. The people who matter will like you just the way you are.”
Brows knitted, Halle looks from my daughter to me and back again.
“Just give me freaking cheese then, Dad,” Seda snaps.
I flinch on instinct.
“Stop making such a big deal out of it. God.” She storms outside, the door shutting harder than normal behind her. Though she may not have slammed it, she still made her point.
Dad.
Seda never calls me Dad. I’m Daddy. Thayer is Dad. She’s always used that distinction between us, so this hurts.
“Does she…” Halle starts, peeking outside. “Do you think she has a crush on my brothers?”
Groaning, I drop my head. “I believe she does.”
Halle approaches me at the island, bringing her sweet scent with her. Fuck, I worry Seda isn’t the only one crushing on a neighbor.
She taps her nails on the counter. “Is this her first crush?”
With a huff, I flip the quesadilla in the pan. “I think so.”
“And on my brothers?” She cringes. “I’m so sorry.”
In one quick move, I slide the finished dish onto a plate and hand it to her. “It was bound to happen eventually. That one’s for Seda.”
She takes it outside while I get started on a beef quesadilla.
When Halle returns, she leans against the counter beside me. “I still remember my first crush.”
“You do?” I ask, more curious than I probably should be.
“Yes.” She presses her lips together, her eyes dancing. “His name was Thomas. It was fifth grade, and at the time, he was the cutest boy I’d ever seen.”
“What happened?” It’s a stupid question. She was in elementary school. Even so, I’m eager for the answer.
She snorts. “Nothing. I was ten.”
“When did you have your first kiss?” The second the words are out, I wish I could suck them back in. But it’s too late for that, so I backpedal. “I-I was just curious,” I stutter. “Because Seda’s ten, and you know… I’m just going to shut up now.” I focus on my task, hoping my face isn’t as red as it feels.
Halle picks up the saltshaker and inspects it before putting it back down. “Sixteen. I was a late bloomer. Or maybe it’s more that I just didn’t have the time. It happened behind the school at the end of the day. In case you were curious about that too.” She tries to hide her smirk but fails. “What about you?”
“Twelve,” I admit. “It was at a soccer game.”
“You played?”
“No. I played football.”
“Ah.” She nods. “Of course you did.”
Chuckling, I get started on the next quesadilla. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She crosses her arms, the move highlighting her chest in a way I try to ignore. “You just have that look about you. Mr. Perfect. The popular guy.”
With a grin, I flip the tortilla. While that side cooks, I get started on another. “You think I was popular?”
She arches a challenging brow. “Were you?”
I nod simply. “Yes.”
Her laugh is loud and filled with amusement. “I knew it.”
“What about you?” I point the spatula at her, then focus on removing the quesadilla from the pan.
“What about me?” she splays her hands on the counter, her chipped yellow nail polish catching my attention.
“Were you popular?”
She lets out an unladylike snort and doesn’t bother trying to stop it. “Knowing what you do about me already, do you think there’s any chance I was popular?” When I don’t answer right away, she adds, “No, I most definitely was not.”
“Why?” I turn her way again, only then noticing the twisted, almost tormented expression on her face .
Shit. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.
“I don’t know,” she huffs. “Maybe it was because my mom was an addict, or it could’ve been my ripped, dirty clothes, or maybe it was because sometimes we’d run out of shampoo and my hair would smell funny. Or—” She sighs. “Honestly, there were a lot of reasons I wasn’t popular. That’s only the tip of the iceberg.”
Stomach knotting, I keep my focus fixed on the stovetop, cursing myself for upsetting her. For now, it seems best to just move on from the subject. When the quesadilla is perfectly browned, I slide it onto the plate. “Those are for your brothers.”
With a small nod, she takes the plates, and while she’s delivering them, I make quick work of preparing hers. By the time she comes back into the house, I’m already plating it and starting on mine.
“This is yours,” I tell her. “Head out and eat it while it’s hot. I’ll be there in a minute.”
She shakes her head. “That’s okay. I’ll wait with you.”
If we’ve got another minute to ourselves, I figure I might as well check in, even if I’m hesitant about how she’ll respond. “Do you still feel okay about everything?” It’s not the end of the world if she doesn’t want to work with me, but I do need the help. “The job, I mean.”
She inhales deeply and searches my face. “Yeah.” The word comes out slowly, drawn out, like she has more to say, so I wait it out while I assemble my dinner. “You’re not just doing this because you feel sorry for me, right? I…” She looks down at her nails. “I don’t want your pity. I can find another job. ”
I flip the quesadilla in the pan, buying myself a minute to get the words right. Honestly, maybe I did offer her the job because I felt sorry for her, but I do need the help. I’ve just been putting it off.
But I can’t tell her that. She’ll never accept my reasoning if she knows my initial intention.
“I need an assistant.” Not a lie. “I haven’t had the time to find one, so when you said you needed a job, it seemed like a no brainer.” Also not a lie. “It’s a convenient arrangement for both of us, don’t you agree?”
“That’s true.” She plays with the ends of her hair, her fingers moving absently, like it’s a nervous tic. “But if at any point I’m not performing as well as you’d like, please tell me. I wouldn’t mind the opportunity to improve if that’s the case, but if my work still isn’t up to par, then fire me. Got it?”
There’s no stopping the grin that spreads slowly across my face. “I’m sure your performance will be more than satisfactory.”
If she catches my innuendo, she ignores it, which is for the best.
Once my dinner is plated, I snag a beer from the fridge and nod at the door. “We better get out there before my kid asks one of your brothers to marry her. Or worse, both.”
She throws her head back and guffaws. “Oh, God. Can you imagine?”
I shake my head. “I refuse to imagine it. She’s going to be a kid forever, lest I lose my sanity.”
At the door, she peers at me over her shoulder and smiles softly. “I think it’s too late for that. ”
“Oh.” I arch an amused brow. “Are you saying I’m already insane?”
She shrugs and shuffles outside. “You said it, not me.”
“Go home, Halle.”
Without looking away from the dish she’s rinsing, she shakes her head. “No. You made dinner and now I’m cleaning up.”
Shaking my head, I swipe the dish from her and open the dishwasher. “No need. I have this magic appliance that’ll do it for me.”
Halle eyes the appliance with a healthy dose of skepticism. “Do those things actually work?”
I load another plate, trying not to show my amusement. “Yes.”
Her lips turn down in a hint of a frown. “I’ve never had one.”
Her answer freezes my movements. “Never?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know if I could get used to using one.”
Wow. I’ve never not had a dishwasher. For some bizarre reason, that thought makes me realize just how privileged my life really has been.
“Believe me,” I say, keeping my tone light, “you could.”
“If I ever have one,” she adds, passing me another dish. “The house needs a lot of updates, and a dishwasher falls pretty close to the end of my list of priorities.”
I’ve officially lost it. Because all I want to do right now is drive over to the nearest home improvement store and buy a dishwasher for Halle.
She already has too much going on. She shouldn’t have to worry about washing dishes too.
But I can’t imagine she’d take it well if I made a purchase like that for her. “I’m sure you will one day,” I remind myself. “You’re young. You have time.”
She snorts. “I’m twenty-three going on a hundred and three at this point.”
I frown at her comment. I could tell from the moment she tried to blow off my offer to help her move in that she hasn’t had an easy life, and every time we’re together, the weary set of her shoulders silently urges me to take some of that weight from her so she can stand up straighter.
The thought is usually followed by my mother’s voice, telling me that I’ve always wanted to fix everything and everyone.
It’s not a compliment when she says it.
But it’s true. I like helping people. If I have the power to ease another’s burdens, then why wouldn’t I?
But in this case, I absolutely cannot buy Halle a dishwasher .
I’m certain my pretty neighbor would never speak to me again if I tried.
“You’ve always had to take care of yourself, haven’t you?” I close the dishwasher and press the start button.
Casen and Quinn are gone already. They went straight home after dinner so they could play video games, much to Seda’s dismay. She dragged herself upstairs after their departure, sulking the whole way, to take a shower and read in bed.
With a sigh, Halle leans back against the counter, crossing her arms.
Of their own accord, my eyes drop to the swell of her breasts. I catch myself quickly, forcing my gaze up, finding her watching me wearing a hint of a smile.
“Yeah, I have,” she says, letting me get away with checking her out. “There’s one person in the world I can rely on, and it’s me.”
Her words are like a stab to the heart. The pain, though, is quickly followed by the desire to be someone for her.
I don’t make the vow to her, but in that moment, I make it to myself.
Halle might think the only person she can count on is herself, but I’ll prove to her that she can count on me too.