24. Caleb
Caleb
I sit in my car outside Dom’s house, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white.
The engine’s off, but I can’t bring myself to get out yet.
“This is madness,” I mutter to myself, loosening my tie.
The research papers on amnesia are tucked into my leather portfolio on the passenger seat. I’ve read them so many times I could recite them verbatim. Familiar environments. Routine activities. Gradual reintroduction to previous responsibilities. That’s what the experts recommend.
My students noticed my distraction today. I fumbled through a lecture, my mind constantly drifting to Amara. Sweet, beautiful Amara, who looks at me now with empty recognition—like I’m just another face in the crowd.
I grab my portfolio and force myself out of the car. Each step toward Dom’s front door feels heavier than the last. The security guard nods at me, already familiar with me from my recent visits.
I was surprised Dom actually allowed it, but slowly, over the weeks since the accident, he is becoming a little more open. He knows Amara comes first.
“Professor Miles,” he says, opening the door.
Inside, I find Amara curled up on the sofa, a book open on her lap. My heart stutters at the sight of her. She looks up, her eyes widening slightly.
“Caleb,” she says, and for a moment, I let myself believe there’s recognition in her voice.
“Hello, Amara.” I keep my voice steady, professional. “I’ve brought some materials I think might help with your recovery.”
She closes her book. “I thought it was just a time thing?”
“Perhaps, but I thought you could try something different.” I sit across from her, careful to maintain distance. This is still Dom’s domain, despite him agreeing that I could discuss this with her. “I think we should get you back to your studies. Routine can be powerful for memory recovery.”
“You think university work will help me remember?” She tilts her head, considering.
“The familiar challenges might trigger connections.” I pull out the papers. “I’ve spoken with your professors. They’re willing to work with you.”
Her fingers brush mine as she takes the papers, and I fight the urge to hold her hand.
“Is this what I was studying before?” she asks, flipping through the pages and reading some passages. “I suppose I never lost the ability to read. Maybe it’ll come back.”
Hope flares in my chest. “That’s excellent, Amara. You just have to have an open mind.”
She looks up suddenly, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Have you ever seen me in a costume? I mean…did Poppy and I ever go to a party together with me wearing a mask with bunny ears?”
My breath catches. “Bunny ears?”
“Never mind.” She shakes her head, but her gaze lingers on me, searching.
Dom’s footsteps announce his arrival before he appears in the doorway. He nods at me, then sits beside Amara. Very closely. A little too close for my comfort.
“What’s this about?” he asks, his hand resting possessively on the sofa behind her.
“Professor Miles thinks I should return to my studies,” Amara explains.
I clear my throat. “It’s like I told you. Structure and routine will help, Dom. If she starts remembering everything—”
“When,” Dom interrupts, his eyes cold, “not if.”
“Excuse me.” Amara sets the papers aside and excuses herself to get some water. The moment she’s out of earshot, I turn to Dom.
“Could we speak privately?”
Dom studies me for a moment, then nods. “My office.”
I follow him down the hallway, my shoes heavy against the marble floor. His office is exactly what you’d expect—imposing mahogany desk, leather chairs, the smell of books and a view of the ocean. He is all extravagance and dirty money. The suits he wears probably cost more than my annual salary.
He can give Amara so much more than I can.
“Whiskey?” Dom asks, already reaching for a crystal decanter.
“Please.”
He pours two glasses, hands me one, and settles into his chair. I remain standing, taking a sip to steady my nerves.
“We need to help her together, Dom,” I say, meeting his gaze. “This territorial bullshit isn’t going to do her any good.”
Dom’s jaw tightens. “How far along was your relationship with my stepdaughter, Professor?” He exaggerates my profession rather than using my name. I know he is letting me know I’m treading on slippery ground.
He wouldn’t?
I take another sip. “It was just getting serious.”
“And does Poppy know?”
“No.” I set my glass down harder than intended. “Not yet.”
“Are you going to tell her?”
“Of course I am,” I snap, irritated by his questioning. “When the time is right.”
Dom leans forward, his voice dropping dangerously low. “You know I could kill you for touching her.”
I don’t flinch. “I love her, Dom. I never realized how much until I nearly lost her.” My voice cracks slightly. “I haven’t felt this way since my wife died. Don’t take her away from me.”
He studies me for a long moment, then a slight smile crosses his face. “You’re a brave man, Caleb. I’ll give you that.”
“Or stupid,” I reply.
Dom’s smile widens. “Perhaps.”
I drain my whiskey. “But you’re not going to kill me.”
“Don’t outstay your welcome, Caleb.” His voice is calm, almost friendly, which somehow makes it more threatening. “I haven’t decided how I’m going to deal with you yet.”
I set the empty glass down, staring at Dom across his massive desk. The tension between us crackles like static electricity.
“You want her too,” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
Dom’s expression doesn’t change, but something flashes in his eyes.
“It doesn’t matter what I want if she doesn’t remember us, Caleb.
And if she does remember, she’ll wonder why your brother was the leading detective the night the club was raided.
The night she nearly died. Have you ever thought about that? ”
My stomach drops. “My brother?”
Dom nods, leaning back in his chair. “And Amara was up to something before the accident. Asking me very strange questions. Any idea of why? Did you ask her to get information for your brother?”
I shake my head, genuinely confused. “No. What kind of questions?”
“About my business. About the club.” He taps his fingers on the desk. “Amara was at the club. Your brother was at the club, and I only got out because of where I was at the time of the raid.”
My mind races, trying to connect dots I can’t see. Jack hasn’t mentioned anything about Amara or the raid. Why would he?
“I promise I had nothing to do with it,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “I didn’t even know Jack was involved.”
Dom studies me, his face unreadable. “I’ll find out the truth, Caleb. And when I do, I’ll deal with you in a way that’s suitable.”
I straighten up, my pulse quickening. “You’re threatening me?”
“It’s not a threat, Caleb.” He stands, towering over me. “I prefer for you to know, and then you can work out whether coming to see Amara is beneficial to you. Maybe you’d like to go to America with your daughter and forget about her.”
I laugh. “That would suit you.”
Dom nods, his face impassive and his voice missing humor. “It would make things simpler.”
“I’m not leaving her here with you. You might have been the one who tried to kill her.” I lean forward, planting my hands on his desk. “Why me? What do I have to gain from her death?”
Dom’s eyes narrow. “I never said you had anything to gain from her dying. But maybe you have something to gain by using her to get information about me for your brother.”
My throat tightens. I swallow hard, trying to maintain my composure. “You’re my friend.”
“Am I?” Dom tilts his head, studying me like I’m a specimen under a microscope. His fingers drum against the polished wood of his desk, the soft tapping filling the tense silence between us.
There’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Dom says, his voice controlled despite our heated exchange.
The door creaks open and Amara steps inside. My heart lurches at the sight of her, her dark hair falling around her shoulders, her blue eyes darting between Dom and me. She senses the tension; I can tell by the way she hesitates in the doorway.
“Mom is here,” she announces, crossing her arms over her chest. “She’s in the living room drinking your best wine. At least that’s what she said when she opened it.”
“Who the fuck let her in?” Dom growls, pushing his chair back with enough force that it nearly topples over. His jaw clenches, the muscles in his neck tightening visibly.
“Sorry, that was me. I didn’t know I shouldn’t.”
I reach out and take Amara’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Don’t worry about it. You couldn’t have known.”
Dom’s face darkens as I turn to face him, positioning myself slightly in front of Amara. “It’s not her fault, Dom. Cut her some slack.”
Amara’s fingers tighten around mine, and I can feel her gratitude without the need to look at her.
“I know it’s not her fault,” Dom snaps. “I’m not blaming her.” He runs a hand through his dark hair, sighing heavily. “She can barely remember her own name right now.”
I glance back at Amara, catching the way her face falls at his words. The confidence that had been building drains away, replaced by that lost look I hate.
“Hey.” I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her close enough that I can smell the jasmine in her hair. “Don’t mind him. Dom’s always been a grumpy bastard. Even before you hit your head.”
A small laugh escapes her lips, and the sound warms something inside me. God, I’ve missed that laugh.
“I’m not grumpy,” Dom growls, but there’s no actual heat behind it. “I’m protective. There’s a difference.” He steps forward, and for a moment I tense, but he only presses a quick kiss to the top of Amara’s head. “Stay here with the professor while I deal with your mother.”
Amara blinks up at him, clearly surprised by the affectionate gesture. I’m equally shocked—Dom has never been one for physical displays of affection, especially not in front of others.
Before leaving, Dom turns to me, his blue eyes sharp as steel. A smirk plays at the corners of his mouth. “Say nothing to her you’ll regret.”
The challenge in his voice is unmistakable. He’s testing me, seeing if I’ll behave myself now that we’re alone.
Two can play at that game.
“Don’t worry,” I say, keeping my arm firmly around Amara’s shoulders. “I’ll just remind her about that night on the beach when she told me she never felt safe until she met me.”
Dom’s jaw clenches so hard I swear I can hear his teeth grinding. “You son of a bitch,” he mutters, just loud enough for me to hear.
I watch Dom leave, his broad shoulders tense with irritation. When the door clicks shut behind him, I exhale slowly.
Amara pulls away slightly, looking up at me with those blue eyes that have haunted my dreams for months.
“Did I really say that?” she asks, her voice soft. “About feeling safe with you?”
My heart skips. “You did. You were there with your friends. It was late, and I sat beside you while Poppy played volleyball with some boys.”
She touches her temple gently, a habit she’s developed since the accident. “So I must have liked you before this.” She taps her head again.
I guide her to the leather sofa against the wall, sitting close enough to feel her warmth but not so close to make her uncomfortable.
“We were...close,” I admit, choosing my words carefully. “It was complicated, but it was real.”
She smiles, and for a moment, I see a flash of the old Amara. “I must have good taste.”
I laugh, the tension draining from my shoulders. “The best.”
She laughs, and the sound is like music. But I know I’m treading on dangerous ground. Talking to her in Dom’s office isn’t wise.
I stare at the door where Dom disappeared, feeling suddenly bold. “We need to talk about what happened before the accident. Who I am and what we were to each other.”
Dom’s voice growls from the doorway—I hadn’t heard him return. “She’s not ready to talk about the accident. Or you!”
“I think she thinks differently,” I counter, not backing down. “And you can’t wrap her up in cotton wool. Her memory might come back quicker if she can talk about it. If we tell her everything that happened before the event.”
“Are you testing me, Caleb?” His eyes narrow dangerously.
“No, just letting Amara know I’m here for her, and I want the best for her.”
He looks at me and says, “It’s time for you to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere until I’ve spoken to Amara properly.”
“Well, that’ll have to wait. Her mom is here because your brother, Detective Miles, is on his way to interview Amara.”