15. Caleb
CHAPTER 15
CALEB
“ W hat were you guys thinking?” I peer back at the boys as I tug on the power washer’s handle. I stored it under the deck after I last used it.
Two sets of shoulders rise and fall. “Don’t know,” Quinn says.
“You must’ve been thinking something.” With a grunt, I pull the power washer out completely. I haven’t even turned thirty yet, but I can guarantee my back will be screaming later. The deck doesn’t actually need to be cleaned, but it was the first thing that came to mind when she asked if I had any chores for them to do.
At the end of the day, they just need to know there are people in their life who care. They’re begging for attention in the only way they apparently know how.
I set up the machine and show them what to do, then leave them to it, already thinking through other projects they could tackle to keep themselves occupied. Thelma and Cynthia could probably use some extra help too, and both boys seem to have a soft spot for the ladies.
The moment we got out of the SUV, Halle stormed inside. I stayed with the boys, figuring she could probably use a little time to cool down. Now, as I pad through the first floor, I don’t see her.
Once I’ve climbed the stairs, I discover her in the place I should have looked first. She’s sitting in front of the computer in my office, fingers flying furiously over the keyboard.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
“Working,” she replies without looking up. “Need to send out a few more emails this afternoon.”
“Halle.” The carpeted floor silences my steps as I get closer. I lean against the desk, crossing my arms over my chest.
She ignores me.
“Halle. Look at me.”
Her fingers slow and she looks up, her expression shuttered.
“You realize I’m your boss, right?”
With a huff, she rolls her eyes.
It takes effort to keep from smiling. God, I love her sass.
“I’m aware, yes. ”
“Do you really think I expected you to come back in here and work after that?”
“No.” She lowers her focus to her hands, which are still poised over the keyboard. “But I needed to.”
With a finger beneath her chin, I tilt her head up. “Why?”
“To distract myself,” she admits. Her shoulders sag with a weariness she shouldn’t possess at her age.
The response doesn’t surprise me at all. What does is how easily she fessed up to it.
I sit on the edge of the desk, tugging at my pant leg when it strains against my knee. “I think we should talk about it.”
“Ugh.” She covers her face with her hands. “You’re right, but I don’t want to.”
“What happened when you went into the school?”
She heaves a heavy sigh, her chest expanding, then falling dramatically, then shoves her fingers through her long dark hair and secures it with an elastic band from her wrist like she often does when she’s working.
“The principal was nice enough, but he told me that they’ve had other incidents already. He just hadn’t reported them to me, hoping they could sort it out at school. But leave it to the chaos twins to not take it seriously.”
She drops her arms to the desk and buries her face in them, letting out a muffled scream.
“I’m sorry you’re getting dragged into this mess.”
Amusement courses through me. “I’m pretty sure I dragged myself into it, but whatever you need to tell yourself. ”
She cracks a small smile.
“So I know about the snake, but what else have they done?”
“They stole the principal’s nameplate from his door.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Seems pretty trivial to me.”
Her body deflates. “And they stole paint from the art class. It hasn’t turned up yet, so who knows what they’ve done with that.” She tosses her hands in the air. “Caleb.” My name is a small whimper, a plea, and fuck if I wish she wasn’t saying it under very different circumstances. Head lowered again, she sniffles. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“Hey,” I crouch in front of her and angle in until she meets my eye. “Parenting isn’t easy. For anyone. I can guarantee every parent has days they want to quit. But you’re exactly what those boys need. You hear me?”
She nods brokenly. “I don’t want them to end up like our mom, and I’m so scared that I’m one wrong decision away from forcing them in that direction. I don’t have a dad, and my mom’s in prison. They’re all I have. I can’t lose them too.”
I cup her cheek, rubbing my thumb against her silky soft skin.
God, this girl. Her brain must be on a constant spin cycle of worry. “You’re not going to lose them.”
“You can’t know that,” she argues.
Chest tightening, I force her face up and hold her eyes. “I see the way they look at you. They admire you. This shit… they’re kids. Surely, they’re probably confused and upset about all the changes, so they’re acting out, but don’t think for a second that you’ve caused any of it, okay?”
She gives a tiny jerk of a nod. The gesture lacks any confidence, making me think that she’s placating me rather than agreeing.
I straighten and peer down at her. “Work if it makes you feel better, but I promise you don’t need to.”
“Thirty more minutes,” she says, already turning back to the computer.
With a nod, I step back, then I let myself out of the room. After our talk the other night, I’ve been hoping to take her out this weekend. Now, I’m even more determined to make it happen. After a quick phone call to make a reservation, I jog across the street to visit with Cynthia and Thelma.
I ring the doorbell, and while I wait, I take in the overwhelming number of potted plants on the front porch. Despite how chilly the mornings are these days, their flowers are holding strong. Can’t say the same for mine.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” Cynthia opens the door wide and motions me inside. “Come in, come in. To what do we owe the pleasure of your company, Caleb Thorne?”
The floors creak beneath my boots. “It’s good to see you, Cynthia. I have a favor to ask of you.”
“I’ve got cookies in the oven. Let me pull them out, and then we’ll chat.”
I follow her into the kitchen, where Thelma sits at the table. The table covered in thick sheets of paper and a few canvases. And several small paint containers that bear stickers that say Hawthorne Mills High School .
Biting back laughter, I shake my head.
I settle at the table across from her, careful not to touch any wet paint. “What are you up to?”
The oven squeaks behind me as Cynthia opens it to take out the cookies.
“Painting,” Thelma replies, dragging a paintbrush over the piece of paper she’s working on, leaving a red streak behind. “Can you believe it? I mentioned to Casen and Quinn that I was thinking about painting again, and they brought me all these supplies.”
I press a hand over my mouth to keep the laughter at bay. “Yes, very nice of them.”
Thelma is a lot of things, but she’s not stupid. She knows they stole the supplies, but frankly, she’d do the same thing.
Cynthia sits beside me, placing a gentle hand on my wrist. “The cookies need a minute to cool. What was it you came over to ask us?”
“Could you keep an eye on Casen and Quinn tomorrow evening? Around six? It’d only be for a couple of hours. I know this is short notice, and I can check with Salem and Thayer if it doesn’t work for you, but I thought I’d ask you first, since the boys like spending time with you.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Cynthia says, her face lighting up.
“Send the delinquents over at 5:45. Dinner will be ready precisely at six,” Thelma says without looking up from her painting.
Delinquents. Huh. Looks like my theory was correct. She definitely knows the art supplies are stolen .
“Will do. I really appreciate this.”
“We’re happy to help,” Cynthia says, patting my hand.
At the same time, Thelma says, “You owe us one.”
Cynthia scoffs. “Don’t listen to her. We love those boys.”
“What are you getting up to that you need us to be babysitters?” Thelma asks, finally looking up, eyes narrowed on me.
She has this way of looking at a person that’s both accusatory and encouraging.
“I’m taking Halle on a date.”
Beside me, Cynthia lets out a cry of joy and claps. “I knew it! I told you, love, didn’t I?”
Thelma grumbles, pointing her dripping paintbrush at me. “You couldn’t have held out a little longer? Now I’m down five bucks.”
Fighting a smile, I look from her to her wife. “You two were betting on Halle and me?”
Cynthia hums, eyes dancing. “We wagered on how long it would take you to ask her out. I had faith in you.” She squeezes my shoulder. “Thelma swore it would take you until the new year at least.”
Thelma scoffs. “She’s sugarcoating it for you to spare your feelings.”
Frowning, I lean forward, elbows on what I hope is a paint-free spot of the table. “What was your prediction, then?”
Thelma’s grin is downright evil. This woman is a menace. “I bet that it’d take you at least six months to work up the nerve.”
Head tossed back, I laugh. “Well, that’s mean. Glad I could surprise you, though.”
“You really like her then?” Cynthia asks, one brow quirked.
Just the thought of Halle makes me smile. “Yes. A lot.”
“Good. That teacher you dated was too mealy-mouthed for you. You need a girl with fire, and that Halle girl has got it.”
“Fire, huh?” I bite back a grin.
“Reminds me of myself, if I’m being honest,” Thelma muses. “You know what that means?”
“Yeah,” I sigh.
It means I’m in for a world of trouble.