7. Caleb
Chapter 7
Caleb
I watch her when she thinks I’m not.
Or maybe she feels my gaze and is an expert in ignoring me. Fuck if I know.
We loaded up into the car and drove in silence. I sprawled across the backseat, my eyes on the back of her neck, and turn over the revelations.
She knows what she witnessed.
Mother insisted Margo made it up, but I figured it was a little too far-fetched for a ten-year-old to create. So I held on to the belief that Margo saw Dad fucking her mom, and let my own mother live in the fantasy world she created.
Without that truth—that Dad had cheated—her whole world stayed intact.
I long to reach forward and touch her, to move the hair off her neck and kiss down her shoulder. To chase away the shadows in her eyes.
Margo Wolfe has her own demons now.
I know all about them.
At the house, I take the bag out of the trunk. She follows Eli’s dad slowly, like the porch will suddenly realize she’s intruding and catapult her onto the lawn. Needless to say, her worries are for nothing. I trail them upstairs. The room closest to the steps, right across from the bathroom, is all hers.
Norah has an eye for design. Normally the room is a bit sterile—used most often as a guest room for visiting extended family—but in the short time she had, she’s transformed it.
There’s a fuzzy, hot-pink pillow in the center of the bed. The comforter and throw pillows, which used to be all white, have been replaced with a floral print. Muted colors, but color nonetheless.
A desk in the corner has a vase of flowers. There’s a standing lamp beside it, and a shorter matching one on the nightstand. The ambiance has a warmer feel instead of the overhead light.
The curtains are closed for now, warding against the chill and darkness. It also probably helps lessen that watched feeling. I don’t know if she’s been getting that vibe, but the hair on the back of my neck is permanently up.
I can’t shake that Unknown was here the other night, waiting for the detective to arrive and interrogate me. But the more important thing is that Margo feels safe.
No—the most important thing is that she is safe.
I put the bag down on the desk chair.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Mr. Black tells her. “Norah is heating dinner, it should be ready soon.”
He leaves, and then it’s just us.
My phone has been steadily blowing up in the last hour, but I’ve ignored it. Now, I pull it out and scroll through the messages. Half of them are from Riley, which would be weird if…
Well, Margo texted me from hers. Which means?—
“Did you find your phone?”
Margo flops on the bed. Her dark hair fans across the pink pillow, and she bites her lip. “They took it, I think. Or I lost it in the accident.”
I frown.
“Lenora texted Riley, who met us at the house. She stayed until Ms. McCaw called and said they weren’t approved…” Her cheeks pinken. “I don’t really have anyone else to talk to except her or you.”
I hand her my phone.
She sits up and scrolls through. A small smile creeps across her face at the messages from Riley. They start off formal, with Margo’s name at the top. As if I’d get confused about who she wants to reach.
She taps out a reply, then goes to hand the phone back.
“There are others. People who are either nosy or think they care.” I stay standing. What I really want is to climb on top of her and kiss her until we’re both breathless and she’s trembling on the edge of an orgasm…
But I can’t risk the Blacks kicking us out.
“I notice Amelie and Savannah don’t give a shit,” she says on a laugh. “Amelie’s nowhere to be found, and Sav’s latest ones all seem a bit desperate.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, well. She is desperate.”
She sobers. “What if I’m misremembering stuff? Like my brain just put in a person who didn’t really make sense?—”
“You don’t trust yourself?”
“How could I?” She stares at the ceiling. “I forgot that my own mother cheated on Dad with yours.”
My stomach knots. While I’m glad her memories finally opened up, I hate her forlorn expression. “It was traumatic, but I’m glad you were able to live without it for a little while.”
She cocks her head. “What do you mean?”
I could give her this. A taste of my side.
“After Dad died, Mom couldn’t stand to be in the house. She was self-destructing.”
“Not as bad as mine,” she whispers.
“No, Mother didn’t turn to drugs. But she did think she couldn’t parent me anymore, so she carted me off to my aunt and uncle’s house only a few days after the funeral.”
Margo knows exactly what that means. She’s seen my uncle’s handiwork firsthand.
“All I wanted was to get you back.” I cave and sit beside her. My hand lands on her thigh. “Uncle David employed a very specific type of behavior modification. He was relentless in blaming not only your father, but you for everything.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “Why?”
Everything is so fucking fragile right now.
“Because if I didn’t hate you, I would’ve done anything I could to get back to you. And he couldn’t have that lingering over him. It would’ve hurt our family reputation. His reputation means more to him than anything else.”
I can’t resist anymore—I lean over and steal a kiss from her lips. Cup her bruised jaw. Slide my tongue into her mouth and taste her mint toothpaste. I thread my fingers in her hair and tip her backward. Her hands fist my shirt, pulling me closer.
I get a knee between her legs and pin her with some of my weight. Her kiss goes straight to my groin. My dick wakes up, pressing against my zipper.
“Hey, I heard— Argh! ” Eli makes a retching noise. “Dinner is ready, you sex beasts.”
Margo freezes under me.
I groan against her lips and slowly extract myself. “Sorry, baby.”
The barest smile creeps across her lips. I help her to her feet. My dick throbs. Her hair is ruffled, her lips redder than they were. She’s so fucking perfect, I can’t stand it.
“It’s okay,” she whispers. “You know where to find me later.”