26. Caleb
Chapter 26
Caleb
S omeone drags Ian off to nurse his wounds.
Theo, Eli, and Liam threaten to kidnap Margo unless I go with them to clean the blood off my face. That gets me to relent, but barely. I keep an eye on her while Liam holds a bag of frozen peas to my knuckles, and Eli hands me a wet paper towel.
The music kicks back on, louder than it was before. It vibrates in my rib cage.
Ian got in a few punches, but I’ve suffered worse at the hands of my best friends. Or family.
That’s a weird marker for me, perhaps, but I shrug it off. The paper towel comes away red. That damn cut on my lip keeps getting close to fully healing, then I do something to fuck it up. Meeting Eli’s gaze, I silently dare him to say something.
He doesn’t.
Theo finds me a cup and pours a healthy dose of vodka into it, topping it off with soda.
I take a sip and wince at the burn. Fire spreads through me, different than the sort I feel because of Margo. I take another swallow. It might rid me of the skin-crawling sensation that’s come over me recently.
My family home. Margo. Plus the murderous rage that descends whenever someone looks at her.
“Ian’s face could’ve passed for raw meat,” Liam comments.
I shrug. “He deserved it.”
“Not saying he didn’t.” He pauses. “We have a game tomorrow.”
And Coach threatened to suspend me if I got in any more fights. I somehow got into not one—with Ian and witnesses —but also tussled with Theo at the farmers’ market.
We move into the living room, close to the doors that lead out to the porch, so I can keep an eye on Margo. She’s with Riley, and so far, most of the guys here are leaving her alone.
She’s got a cup in her hand. While they sway to the music, she takes a sip. Then another.
I restrain myself from going to her.
Outside, boys are circled around a bonfire. The leaves are starting to drop, even if half of the trees in the county haven’t changed colors yet. The damp leaves catch the fire, and it seems like the whole lawn is moving.
My cup is empty, and Theo refills it.
“We’ll have to get the footage,” I mutter. “Bribe some people. It might not get back to Coach.”
Eli snickers. “He probably already knows.”
“Margo is a lightweight,” Theo says.
I jerk toward him. “What did you say?”
He points.
Margo’s holding on to Riley’s forearms, swaying, and her legs suddenly fold under her. She drags Riley down, and they both end up on the floor.
Shit.
I shove my cup into Eli’s chest and stalk across the party. I detangle her from Riley and lift her. Eli is right there with me, helping Riley up.
“You want some water?” I ask her.
She sighs. “No.”
I clench my jaw. “It’ll make you feel better.”
“I don’t think anything can make me feel better.”
“We call this self-destructing.” When her legs give out again, I scoop her up.
She latches on to my neck and peers into my eyes. Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips.
“I’m not,” she slurs. “Just…”
She got fucked up fast.
“Just what?”
“Washing away today.” She puts her cheek on my shoulder.
For fuck’s sake. “I’m taking you home.”
Riley lurches forward. “She can’t?—”
“Yeah, yeah.” I carry her out of the party.
Hoots and hollers follow us.
“People are mean.” She twists in my arms, gazing first at the onlookers, then at the arm curled under her knees. “Your knuckles are bruised.”
I frown. “I’ve been hurt worse.”
“This is self-inflicted,” she argues. “Maybe you’re the self-destructing one.”
The truth of it cuts deep. Except she seems new to the self-destruction phase, and I’ve lived here for a while. Hockey holds me together, but that’s about it.
I thought I was better at hiding it.
Luckily, we arrive at my vehicle. The matte black Audi stands out, even in the dark. It doesn’t glint in the garish overhead streetlight.
“Are you going to puke in my car?” I set her on her feet.
“No.” She crosses her arms, the picture of indignant, but uncrosses them a minute later so she doesn’t topple over. Her balance is gone .
I stifle a laugh. “No puking allowed. If you do…”
She leans on my car door. “You’ll what? Spank me?” Her expression is… mischievous?
I frame her in and smirk at her, while she seems to consider her own scenario.
“Earth to Margo.”
Her gaze finds mine.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I trace up her sides, taking the hem of her shirt up, too. I’ve been dying to touch her, and these sparks between us aren’t enough to satiate me. “A little pain with your pleasure? Does it turn you on?”
“I—”
I slide my hand into her pants, cupping her pussy. My fingers find her hot and wet, and my dick leaps to attention. It wants to be inside her. My own alcohol consumption doesn’t help my self-control.
“Soaked,” I tell her. “How drunk are you?”
She makes a face. “There are two of you.”
Well, fuck. I might get off on her fear, but I can’t take full advantage of a drunk girl. That feels… wrong. I pull my hand out, making sure her pants are buttoned, then shift her aside to open the door for her. “Get in. Before I do something I shouldn’t.”
She just lifts her chin and smiles.
Turns out… doing something I shouldn’t means kissing her in the driveway. I don’t know how it happens, but one minute we’re staring at each other, and the next, our lips are sealed together. My body begs for more of her. I lift her and slip my hand into her pants again. Doing something I shouldn’t means thrusting my fingers inside her until she moans against my lips.
I need more. Her mouth, hands, pussy—I’m hot with the urge to fuck her. In public. Against my car, where anyone can see.
That would be the ultimate claiming, wouldn’t it?
Finally, I pull back. “You’re drunk, baby. I’m not a good enough guy to tell you no.”
“Then don’t.”
Outside of our bubble, the world could be exploding for all I care.
I nip her throat.
“Caleb.” She wraps her arms around my neck and draws me closer.
No. I really can’t.
I practically toss her into her seat while she glares at me.
A thrill chases under my skin. “Don’t worry, Margo. This is the only time I’ll tell you no.”
A dose of reality seems to come back for a second, and she slouches. “Maybe you should take me home.”
“That’s the plan.” I exhale.
Her foster parents are going to kill me. I don’t think I can afford to drive around until she sobers up. I’m not drunk, but I’ve been drinking. And I can only imagine what my uncle would do if I got pulled over in this state.
There’s somewhere else I can go.
I drive carefully, one hand tracing invisible patterns on her leg. Her expression is blank, and it seems like her mind is very far away. She doesn’t even register arriving at our destination. Or when I kill the engine and come around to the passenger side. I pick her up out of the car. She rests her cheek on my shoulder, but her fingers dig into the front of my shirt.
“They’re gonna see,” she sniffles. “They’re going to send me back.”
“It’ll be okay.” I stride up the wide front walkway and into Eli’s family’s home.
Her eyes crack open, taking in the unfamiliar location.
“Where are we?”
“Shh,” I whisper. “If I bring you back to the Bryans like this, they’ll crucify me.”
“So this is a self-preservation thing.”
I scoff. Of course she’d think that. She was just worried about them sending her back—whatever the fuck that means. And now she thinks this motive is purely my own?
If her foster parents turn against me, my job becomes significantly harder.
Eli’s home is where I spend most of my time. I carry her down to the basement, where my converted room awaits.
It’s not much, but it’s better than any other option. And I am infinitely grateful to Eli’s family for taking me in.
I set her on the bed. She’s like a doll, all floppy and putting up zero resistance. I tug her sweatshirt off, then her shoes.
“Caleb Asher, are you trying to get me naked?” Her eyes are closed.
I roll my eyes. “You’re so fucking drunk. On one drink?”
“In my defense, it was mostly vodka.”
Ah, so Theo must’ve made her drink, too.
“That must’ve tasted great.” I sit beside her and brush her hair off her face. She seems younger like this, without the worry lines between her brows or the scowl that so often appears when I do something unsavory.
“Stop.” She knocks my hand away, and her tone stays rigid when she snaps, “Don’t get soft on me.”
Interesting.
“Sleep, then.” I kick off my shoes.
“I have a curfew.”
I climb onto the bed beside her, scooting her toward the wall, and stroke her hair again. Because it’s soft and nice, and also because it seems to piss her off.
“You have two hours before curfew,” I tell her. “And let me be fucking nice to you.”
She doesn’t relax.
“What’s the issue? You’re more tense now than…”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She curls away from me.
“Didn’t think I’d ever have a girl fully dressed in my bed.” I laugh to myself. I didn’t think I’d ever take a girl back here. Certainly none from Emery-Rose Elite.
After a long minute, her breathing evens out and her body releases its tension.
I lie beside her, fully awake, until my watch buzzes with the alarm I set.
I wish I could keep Margo with me here. I wish I could sleep. These days, sleep comes infrequently, or in small chunks of time. I content myself with watching her slow, deep breaths for another minute, then sit up.
I put my shoes back on and roll her onto her back.
She doesn’t wake up.
Even when I pick her up and carry her back to the car, setting her in the passenger seat. I lean over her, buckling her in, and gently close her car door.
She stays asleep even after we reach the Bryans’ house. I park at the curb and watch the lit windows on the first floor.
They’re waiting up for her.
I give it another minute, then two. Then ten. If we want to be on time, she has to be inside in four minutes.
Four minutes isn’t going to miraculously sober her up.
I lift her out of the car, and she wakes with a start.
I almost drop her, but she latches on to my neck.
“Where am I?” Her head swings around.
“You were sleeping. And we can’t wait any longer, unless you want to be grounded for an eternity.”
I put her feet on the ground, and her knees buckle. I don’t let her fall, my grip sure. Still, she’s clearly more drunk than anticipated. Even after her nap…
I release a long sigh. “Can you pretend to be more sober?”
“Aren’t I?”
We make our way to the front door, her arm slung around my neck, mine around her waist. I’ve got most of her weight supported, but it would be nice if she could open her eyes the rest of the way.
“Aren’t you what?” I ask.
“Sober.”
I grunt and glance down at her. “Your eyes are closed.”
“I’m just resting them.”
“How about you open them until I can get you up to your room?”
Jesus.
She does, barely, and we make it up the front steps. I open the door and guide her in, pausing when I spot Robert.
He sits in a chair in the living room, a book in his lap.
Margo spots him, too, and cringes. “Uh-oh.”
She might’ve got away with it if she didn’t immediately break character. I’m left holding her up, while her grip tightens on my shirt.
“Are you drunk, Margo?” Robert asks.
I wince.
“Not drunk per se,” she mumbles. “I mean, it was just?—”
“I’m going to get her upstairs,” I interrupt her. “Sorry, Mr. Bryan.”
Her foster father’s expression is severe when focusing on Margo—but shocked when he looks at me. “Caleb—your lip. What happened?”
I frown, tensing so I don’t automatically touch it. “Just a little disagreement, Mr. Bryan. Nothing to worry about.”
He stares at me for an extra beat. Then, to Margo, “We’ll discuss this in the morning.”
She’ll have fun with that one. I lift her into my arms again and carry her up the stairs. Into her familiar bedroom. I set her feet down to free up my arm, and I drag the blankets back. Then guide her into it and pull everything back into place.
“You’re gonna have a hell of a hangover,” I warn.
She pouts. “Rescue me from the Bryans tomorrow. I’m gonna need it.”
“You got it.” I lean down and kiss her cheek. Her skin is warm under my lips.
And she’s snoring before I make it out of the room.
But when I get back to the Blacks’ house, Amelie waits on my bed.
“What are you doing here?” I raise an eyebrow. Things are finally smoothing out with Margo, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thrilled to gain her trust. If I wasn’t positive Margo was passed out in her bed—the bed I just put her in—I’d be more inclined to drag Amelie out by her elbow immediately.
“You’re not happy I’m here?” Her voice is husky.
I don’t know what the fuck she’s wearing, but it isn’t much. A cropped shirt exposes her abdomen, and a flared skirt covers her underwear.
Barely.
“I was looking forward to an empty bed.” I cross my arms and lean against my doorframe, making it clear that I’ll be venturing no further.
Her fingers play with the bottom of her shirt. “Quite the scene you made tonight.”
“Which is why I’m particularly surprised at your visit.”
She shrugs. “Thought you might want to know someone from our past found you.”
I narrow my eyes. “Let’s cut to the chase, Amelie. You want something for this mysterious information?”
She gets up and comes closer. “Of course I want something. I want you .”
I laugh. I can’t help it. Even if I wasn’t all-consumed with thoughts of Margo, Amelie leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
“Not gonna happen.”
She’s close enough to touch. When she arches her back, her breasts brush my chest. She winds her fingers into my hair, and she pulls me down to her. I indulge her kiss for a second, watching her closed eyes. She makes some noises in the back of her throat, and it comes off more like something in porn than a real kiss.
I don’t feel anything.
Which makes it pointless. Before, I felt… a glimmer of prospect, I guess. But now there’s nothing. Just pressure on my lips and the sick feeling that it isn’t Margo.
I shove her away.
She stumbles and falls on her ass. She bursts into tears. “You were my last chance.”
I have no idea what that means. Maybe she’s about to be married off to some stranger? I heard rumors that the Page family was in deep with the Italian Mafia in New York City. I wouldn’t put it past her dad to pull some stunt and solidify that partnership.
Just a theory, though. Amelie is seventeen and on the cusp of graduating high school. Surely her parents wouldn’t do anything before the end of the school year.
Either way, it’s not my fucking problem. I crouch and meet her tear-filled gaze. “Who found me?”
Amelie pushes to her feet, glaring at me. “Who do you think?”
I shake my head. There’s only one person who Amelie would know about… one person with whom Amelie would know I don’t want involvement.
“Get out,” I snap.
“But—”
“No buts, Amelie.” Anger floods through me, and I shift to make sure I’m not blocking her exit. I don’t want her to touch me when she rushes out of here. “If you don’t leave right now, you’re going to wish you never set foot in here.”
Ever the high-society princess, she turns up her nose at me. “Don’t worry, Caleb. I already wish that.”
She stomps past me, up the stairs, and slams the front door shut behind her. It resounds through the house, and I pinch the bridge of my nose.
What the fuck is her problem?
Eli comes down a split second later, whistling. “Wow. You doing Amelie behind Margo’s back?”
I grunt. “Fuck, no.”
“Then what did she want?”
I shake out my limbs. I need to go to the gym, work off some of this sudden anxious energy. She could ruin everything .
“Caleb.” Eli waves his hand in front of my face. “What did Amelie want?”
“To warn me,” I reply dryly. “Pretty sure she was looking for any excuse to come down here.”
Eli laughs. “Yeah, man. Sure. Warn you about what?”
I heave a sigh. May as well tell him. After all, I pretty much owe him for the rest of my life. Oh, but he’s going to freak out.
“If you say a word of this to anyone, I’ll kill you.”
He nods. He’s used to my threats—takes them in stride and thinks something is off when I don’t threaten him.
“Margo’s mom is back in town,” I say.
She’s been gone for so long… Almost as long as her daughter.
Eli pales. He knows the history. He got the story from me, in bits and pieces as I learned it over time. I never keep anything from him.
“She’s going to get in the way.” I shake out my hand to keep from punching the wall. “I told her?—”
“Doesn’t matter what you told her, man,” he interrupts. “You’re going to find out what she wants and escort her the fuck back out of Rose Hill.”
Yeah. Because it’s that easy.
If she finds out about Margo…
Game over.