37. Caleb
CHAPTER 37
CALEB
H alle isn’t answering her phone.
Or emails.
Or texts.
And in my gut, I know something is wrong. She’s supposed to be working today. It would take a catastrophic event to keep her from doing her job, and even then, she’d let me know.
When yet another call goes to voicemail, I shove away from my desk. Until I hear from her, I won’t get anything done. I’m too fucking out of my mind with worry.
I stop by the senior partner’s office to let her know I’m leaving, then I speed all the way to Hawthorne Mills.
Before I get on the highway, I try Halle one more time.
And by some miracle, she answers.
“Hello?” she croaks, sounding so unlike herself.
“Are you okay?” I bark out, white-knuckling the steering wheel.
“I’m sick,” she mumbles. “I’ve thrown up so many times. I think it’s the flu.” She gasps, and then there’s muffled rustling on the other end of the phone. “Oh my God, I’m supposed to be working. I’ll get logged?—”
“You’ll do no such thing,” I grit out. If she’s sick, she should be in bed. “I’m on my way home.”
“Why? What happened?”
I tap my thumb against the steering wheel. Is she serious?
Who am I kidding? Of course she is.
“You, Halle. You happened.”
Her quiet “oh” nearly crushes me.
“I’m going to stop and pick up a few things for you on the way. I’m getting on the highway now.”
“You really don’t have to come home,” she whispers. “I’ll be okay. I can take care of myself. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Things are different now,” I remind her. “You have me.”
“I gotta go,” she says, her tone panicked. More rustling, followed by a whimper, and just before the line cuts off, she retches.
Heart hammering, I press harder on the accelerator.
At home, I have plenty of Tylenol and Advil to help with her fever, as well as broth I can use to make a simple soup, but I’m pretty sure the boys have finished off the sports drinks, so I grab several of those, as well as a box of crackers, at the pharmacy on the edge of town.
As I head toward the checkout, the sign above another aisle catches my eye, and my gut clenches.
No.
But it is possible.
I swipe a pregnancy test from the shelf and drop it in the basket. Then, for good measure, I add two more. Better safe than sorry. We haven’t been the most diligent about condoms, but on the occasions that we haven’t used them, I’ve pulled out. Even so, the technique is called pull and pray for a reason.
I check out, knowing full well that the cashier who’s known me my whole life will call my mother and give her a list of the items I purchase as soon as I’m out of here.
Oh well.
The house is quiet when I let myself inside. The boys are at school, and if Halle isn’t in bed, she’s gonna hear it from me.
As I make my way upstairs, I loosen my tie and the first few buttons of my shirt.
When I ease her bedroom door open, all I find is an empty bed, made up with throw pillows and everything.
I close the door and continue down the hall. Finally, I find Halle passed out in my bed, mouth hanging open and dark hair a wild halo around her head. There’s a glass of water on the nightstand, as well as the Advil, and there’s a trash can beside her on the floor.
As quietly as I can, I set the plastic bag on the bench at the foot of the mattress, then toe off my shoes and check her forehead. She’s warm, but I don’t think she has a fever.
At my touch, she stirs, blinking bleary eyes open.
“Caleb? You really did come?”
I sit beside her, easing onto the mattress to keep from jostling her. “I told you I was on my way, baby. Did you think I made it up?”
“I thought I dreamed the whole thing,” she mumbles. “I’ve been up and down since three. Or maybe it was two? Four?” She prattles on. “I can’t remember.”
“How are you feeling now?” I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.
“Like my mouth is gross, and if I move, I might die.”
I chuckle. “That bad, huh?”
Groaning, she squeezes her eyes shut. “You have no idea. Everything aches, and after all the puking, it feels like I’ve done the longest core workout of my life.”
“Do you think you can sit up?”
“Maybe.” She inhales a shaky breath and braces herself. When I lean in to help her, she holds up a hand. “Don’t get too close. I haven’t brushed my teeth. I tried, but it made me throw up again.”
“Baby,” I croon, chest aching. Fuck, I feel helpless right now .
As she slowly works her way up to a sitting position, I crack the lid of a Gatorade, and when she’s settled again, I hold it for her, tipping the liquid to her lips. She takes three meager sips before she guides my hand away.
“Think you can drink some more?” I probe.
She shakes her head. “I’m so?—”
She retches, lunging for the trash can. I reach it before she does and hold it while she vomits the Gatorade right back up.
She takes the basket from me, wrapping both arms around it, and while she heaves again, I set the bottle on the nightstand and pull her hair away from her face, rubbing her back, wishing I could do more to comfort her.
When she finishes, she groans. “That’s what happens every time I try to drink.”
I touch the back of my hand to her forehead again, swearing she’s warmer than she was moments ago.
Or maybe my paranoia is getting the best of me.
“Let’s get you into a cool shower.”
“No,” she whines. “I’m too tired and achy. And I’m cold . I need a hot shower.”
I shake my head and stand. “Not a chance, pretty girl.”
I leave her long enough to start the shower, and when I return, I find her with her legs slung over the edge of the bed, hands planted firmly at her sides. From the concentration scrunching her face, I assume she’s working up the nerve to stand.
“Let me get you, baby,” I plead.
She shakes her head, as stubborn as ever.
I crouch in front of her, tapping her bare knee. When I realize the over-sized shirt is my shirt, I’m filled with a ridiculous amount of satisfaction.
“If I carry you to the bathroom, I promise it won’t make you less of a badass.”
“I’m afraid I’ll puke on you.”
I clench my jaw to keep from smiling. “I took care of a newborn. I’ve been peed on, pooped on, and thrown up on. I’ll survive.”
“Yeah, but newborns are cute.”
I tap her knee again and wait for her to look at me again. “And you’re my girl and you’re beautiful. Let me take care of you. All I want is to be your person, Halle. Let me be that.”
Her lower lip wobbles, her eyes going misty. “It’s really unfair for you to be so sweet when I smell like throw-up and sweat.”
“Come on, love.” I scoop her up. “I’ve got you.”
She wraps her arms around my neck, giving in, and rests her head on my shoulder.
I don’t stop moving until we’re in the shower, clothes and all.
“Ugh.” She clings to me as I sit on the built-in bench. “I need it warmer.”
“I can’t make it any warmer if you have a fever.”
“You didn’t even take my temperature,” she whines. “I might not have a fever.”
“Better safe than sorry.” I kiss the side of her forehead. For a moment, I hold her like that, soaking in the way she’s letting me literally hold her up. Eventually, though, I clear my throat, preparing for the ire my next words will be met with. “I want you to take a pregnancy test too.”
She goes rigid in my arms, but she doesn’t try to escape me like I thought she would. “I’m not pregnant.”
“You could be.” I push her wet hair back, my dress shirt clinging to my skin. “We haven’t been careful every time.”
“I take birth control,” she argues. “Never miss a pill.”
“People get pregnant on the pill. Shit happens. Just take one.”
She pulls back, her eyes tearing up in earnest now, the droplets mixing with the water clinging to her lashes. “I love you, but I don’t want to be pregnant. I’m not ready now.”
“I know, baby.” I cuff her neck gently, massaging with my fingertips. Truth be told, as much as I want more kids, I’m not ready for a baby right now either. Selfishly I want more time with Halle first. Even if we’ve already got the boys and Seda. “I still think you should take a test.”
“Fine,” she grumbles. “But I probably don’t have enough liquid left in me to pee.”
That pulls a chuckle from me. “In the morning, then.”
“Okay.” She heaves a sigh and burrows into me again. We stay like that for another minute or two before she says, “I think I can keep it together if you’re willing to help me wash up.”
I stand, then ease her to the tile seat, wishing I could turn up the temperature when she shivers. Once I’ve removed her shirt, I step out of the shower long enough to grab a washcloth. I add my soap to the cloth, then glide it gently over her body .
Eyes closed, she lays her head back. This moment, despite how bad she feels, is one I’ll treasure forever. For the first time, she’s giving me her complete trust. This privilege, to care for her when she’s her most vulnerable, is far more precious and intimate than sex.
I wash her hair quickly, and while I’m working the conditioner in, she goes peaked. Stomach sinking, I lean out of the shower and snag the bathroom trashcan.
But, stubborn as ever, she holds it together. She’s stoic as I turn off the water and dry her off, and she’s breathing deeply as I drag another of my shirts over her head.
“I need to brush my hair,” she mumbles. “Or else it will tangle.”
“I’ll brush it for you.”
I close the toilet lid and point for her to sit. “I’ll get your brush.”
Quickly, I dart into her bathroom to get it. When I return, she’s gripping the trashcan.
“Did you get sick?” I ask.
“No, but my stomach started lurching again.”
“Mmm. If you need to, I’m here to help.” I divide her hair into sections and begin combing it out.
“How are you so good at this?” she asks as I finish the first section.
I pause, hand held in the air, on the verge of laughter. “How do you think?”
“Oh, yeah,” she breathes, slumping. “You have a daughter.” I’m almost finished with the last section of hair when she speaks again. “She came home crying yesterday. She saw Quinn kissing a girl. ”
My heart pangs. Though I hate the obsession she has with the boys, I hate the idea of my little girl being upset. “She was heartbroken?”
“Unbelievably. Hopefully her next crush will be someone her age.”
I grunt, jaw clenched. “I hope she never has another crush.”
“Unlikely.”
“I know.” I lean over her, setting her brush down. As I move, I’m hit with a cool shot of air, and I shiver.
Halle peeks over her shoulder, frowning at my wet clothes. “You need to change, or you’ll be sick too.”
I pick up her towel and scrunch her hair, sure to get the excess moisture from it. “I’m okay.”
“Caleb.” The warning tone is one she usually reserves for her brothers. I’m not sure what she thinks she’s going to do to me, since she can barely stand without help, but I like it when she tries to act bossy.
“Let me get you into bed, and then I’ll change.”
“No,” she counters. “The water will soak into my t-shirt. Change first.”
Admitting defeat, I take a step away and unbutton my shirt. I drape it over the towel rod, along with my pants. Then I toss my socks into the hamper.
“Take it off,” she attempts to catcall when I’m in nothing but my underwear. The tease falls flat, her voice too weak.
With a smirk, I saunter into the closet. I shuck my underwear and pull a pair of sleep pants from the drawer.
“No funny business tonight, sweetheart,” I say as I emerge, covered from the waist down .
Once I’ve got her situated in bed again, I hold the Gatorade out to her. “Sip. We need to keep you from getting dehydrated.”
“You’re so fucking bossy,” she grumbles.
“When it comes to your well-being, hell yeah I am.”
She takes a couple of slow, tentative sips, and when it doesn’t immediately come back up, I breathe a sigh of relief.
“I have a humidifier around here somewhere. I’m going to dig around for that and get it set up.”
“I don’t think I need a humidifier.” She stifles a yawn. “I’m not congested.”
“Google said it would help.”
“Fine.” She slumps back against the headboard, eyelids heavy. “Whatever you say.”
I locate the humidifier in the hall closet and set it outside my bedroom door to set up later. Then I go downstairs and search the pantry for the can of broth I know is hiding somewhere. Once I’ve found it, I text Salem, warning her to keep Seda away for now. If Halle is contagious, the last thing we need is for Seda to end up with the bug and take it home to her siblings.
With that taken care of, I call Thelma and ask if the boys can crash with them for a night or two. Unsurprisingly, she and Cynthia are all too happy to take them. Next, I let the boys know the plan and ask them to text me a list of things to pack for them.
Casen: Sweet. I can work on my whale some more.
Me: Whale?
Casen: I’m crocheting a whale.
Quinn: My triceratops is cooler .
I shake my head, fighting a smile. I’ll never understand the friendship that’s developed between the boys and the elderly ladies across the street, but I appreciate it, nonetheless.
Me: I’ll leave the bag by the door. Just pick it up when you get off the bus.
Casen: thumbs-up
Quinn: Wait. How do we know Halle’s sick and you’re not kidnapping our sister? You could be holding her hostage.
Me: Seriously? And didn’t she tell you she was sick this morning?
Casen: She did.
Quinn: Doesn’t mean you’re not holding her hostage.
Quinn: Tell her to FaceTime us tonight. We need proof of life.
Casen: Stop being an asshole.
Me: Whatever makes you feel better.
Quinn: Cool.
Casen: Whatever.
By the state of the kitchen, it’s obvious the boys fed themselves this morning. Cereal bowls with sugary milk sit in the sink, several cabinets aren’t fully shut, and though the orange juice made it back into the fridge, its lid did not.
I want to check on Halle, but I’m hopeful she was able to go to sleep, so I putter around the house, folding and refolding the throw blankets in the living room. I dig a shoe out from under the couch—one of Casen’s that went missing days ago .
I’m shoving the boys’ video game cases back onto a shelf when there’s a soft knock on the front door.
“How’s she feeling?” Salem asks when I pull the door open.
“Better, I think, but I’m trying to let her rest.”
She rolls her eyes playfully. “You’ve always been such a hover-er. This must be killing you. Anyway, I had leftover chicken noodle soup in the freezer. Figured it might help.”
“Thanks.” I take the container from her with a grateful smile.
“And a cupcake for you.” She balances it on top of the container, then takes a step back. “Cupcakes make every day better. If you need anything, let me know.”
Once she’s gone, I put the soup in the fridge, figuring I’ll be pushing my luck if I try to feed Halle anything other than plain broth tonight.
I disinfect the first floor, hoping like hell it’ll keep the rest of us from getting sick. Then, unable to resist the temptation, I peek in on Halle. She’s asleep again, her mouth ajar like it was earlier.
God, she’s fucking adorable.
But she’d probably kill me for thinking so.
I pack a bag for the boys and set it on the front porch, adding necessities, like toothbrushes and deodorant, they forgot to add to the list. I probably don’t want to know what kind of shit they’re going to get into with Cynthia and Thelma. Something tells me it’ll be more than crochet.
With nothing else to do, I make myself a quick meal. I’m not all that hungry, but I figure it’s better if I eat while Halle is still asleep .
It’s weird, how quiet the house is now that I’m effectively alone. I’ve been on my own a while, but living with other people for a few months has left me spoiled. They’ve brought life into my home, and I dread the day they move out. It’s selfish of me. I’m sure they’re anxious to get back into their own space, but I… fuck, it’s going to suck. Yeah, they’ll only be next door, but the distance isn’t the issue here. What eats at me the most is knowing I’ll be alone again. I’ve found my people—is it so wrong to want to be with them?
I’m putting my plate in the dishwasher when the floor above creaks.
As much as I want to rush upstairs to help Halle, I hold myself back.
She’s not the kind of girl to take kindly to my smothering.
Five minutes is all I manage to wait, though, before I force myself to take slow steps upstairs.
When I step into my room, she’s propped up in bed, wearing a tired smile.
“Hey,” she says softly. “Thank you for letting me sleep.”
“You were out for a while.” I look her over, wishing I could interpret how she feels. “You needed the rest.”
“I’m sorry I took over your bedroom.”
“Halle,” I sigh as I shuffle closer. “The last thing I’m worried about is you in my room.”
“Still, I’m sure you want your room back. I can?—”
I quiet her with a look. “Nice try.”
“Then you should stay in my room. I don’t want to get you sick. ”
I shake my head. “Nope. I’m good here.” I step up to her side of the bed and hand her the mug I’ve filled with warm broth.
Her lips turn down. “But what if you get sick?”
“Then you can take care of me.” I wink. “Eat up. It’ll help.”
She scrutinizes the liquid for a moment, then, without argument, she takes a sip.
I settle into bed beside her and turn the TV on. “Anything in particular you want to watch?”
“Trashy reality TV? It’s the worst, but I love it.”
I laugh and flick through the channels until I find a show with several women sitting around in a fancy home with high ceilings and monochromatic decor. “This?”
“Perfect.” She gives me a tired smile, but it falls quickly, her shoulders curling inward. “I’m really sorry you had to come all the way home to take care of me.”
I shrug. “I’m not. There’s no place I’d rather be.”
Head tilted, she searches my face. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
“I’m not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean. You should know that by now.”
She’s quiet for a long while, slowly sipping her broth off a spoon. Eventually, she says, “I’m glad you came home.”
I smile over at her. “Me too.”
“I love you,” she whispers, the words sticking in her throat.
It’s hard for her to admit it, but that doesn’t bother me. For Halle, love makes a person vulnerable. For me, love makes them stronger .
With any luck, she’ll see it my way one day.
“I love you too.”
With a smile, she sets the mug on the table. Then she wiggles her way to my side and snuggles into me, her head on my shoulder.
I can’t help but brush my lips over her crown. The day this girl moved in next door, I couldn’t have imagined she’d move into my heart too, but now that she’s there, she’s not going anywhere.