Chapter Fourteen
Caleb
Kick. Push. Glide.
With my board under my feet and an empty road ahead of me, I focused on the momentary freedom I’d found.
Autumn wind rushed my ears, caught my hair, and cooled my skin.
Trees topped with burnt orange, red, and yellow lined the street.
Dead leaves had started to fall, casualties of the slow creep toward winter, snagged by the wind and swirling along the gutters as I passed.
The rumble of my wheels over the uneven asphalt was the only sound that mattered.
Fuck, I loved this feeling. Needed it, even.
It kept me grounded. Kept me from becoming someone I refused to be.
The morning at Copper Ridge Regional Hospital hadn’t gone the way I’d planned. The second I’d stepped through the doors, the familiar antiseptic air hit me, and dread crawled up my spine like it had been waiting for me.
I thought I could handle it. Volunteering in children’s oncology. A way to face the thing that had tried to kill me and turn it into something useful. Make it mean something.
But when I walked onto that ward, all I saw was pain. An incredibly un-fucking-fair shitstorm of illness and fear, playing out on the faces of kids who were too young to understand why their bodies had betrayed them.
It was a helpless feeling. One I never wanted to experience again.
Yet, there I was.
“Don’t rush it,” the volunteer coordinator, Renee, had told me. “It takes everyone time to find their footing. Even me.”
She was right. By the end of orientation, I knew I’d made the right call. It was the right place. The right people. Even if my initial reason was selfish.
Because quickly, I’d realized volunteering wasn’t about me. I didn’t need to revisit my struggles or prove I’d survived. I already knew the things I’d overcome didn’t define me. I wasn’t a victim. I was more than the conqueror of a disease.
Cancer didn’t own me.
I just wished everyone else could see it.
Volunteering was for the kids. To show them they could be more too. That they could live despite the fear.
The board hummed beneath me as I carved a long, sweeping turn onto Chantel’s street. My muscles burned and my lungs ached, and for the first time since walking out of that hospital, I felt like myself again.
“How’d it go?” Chantel asked when I walked through the unlocked front door. She was curled in her armchair with a blanket over her lap, a book in one hand, and a glass of wine in the other.
“Good.” I kicked off my shoes and leaned my board against the wall. “Mostly paperwork and a tour, but I think it’s going to be perfect. Thank you for setting it up.”
“You’re welcome.” She opened her book, then immediately slammed it shut. “I have to say this—and don’t you dare fucking laugh at me—but I’m proud of you.”
“It’s volunteer work, Chantel. I’m not nearly as important as the staff. People like you literally save lives—”
“That’s not what I meant.” Her eyes cut through me, sharp and sincere. “You’re not just volunteering. It’s children’s oncology, Caleb. At the same hospital where you...”
She shook her head, breathing deep. “I’d say that’s a dark rabbit hole for anyone, but especially you, and you’re doing it anyway.
You quit school when it wasn’t working. You moved here on your own terms. You’re taking control of your life instead of letting everyone else control it for you.
That’s goddamn admirable. So shut up and take the compliment. ”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You might not find me so admirable if I don’t find a paying job soon.”
“Whatever. You keep replacing my empty wine bottles with full ones. That’s enough for now.”
“That’s all it takes?”
“No. What I really need is for you to convince Zadie to—” She stopped herself. Took a sip of her drink. “Never mind. The wine is superb. Let’s leave it at that.”
She buried her face in her book. If she noticed the way my jaw tightened at Zadie’s name, she didn’t let on. But she’d cracked the door, and we both knew it.
Over the past two weeks, Chantel had been dropping hints with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. She did it when we were alone and when Zadie was around. She didn’t discriminate. And none of it had changed a thing.
Zadie and I were still playing friends.
Playing. Because that’s exactly what it was. An act. She kept pretending she wasn’t interested, and I kept pretending I was okay with it.
Neither of us was fooling anyone. Least of all each other.
“We should go out tonight,” I said, a restless energy still buzzing under my skin. “I feel like doing something.”
Chantel peered at me over her novel. “I just got off a fourteen-hour rotation. If you think I’m spending tonight doing anything other than this chair, this wine, and this book, you’re out of your mind.”
“But—”
“Not happening. Ask Zadie. She should be getting off work soon.”
“Think she’s up for it?”
“Merde, Caleb. What do I look like, your pimp? Text the woman. The worst she says is no.”
Maybe Chantel was right. Or maybe I was still riding the high of her pep talk and the adrenaline from the board. Either way, I felt ready to take the hit if it came.
Besides, Zadie had only turned me down—what, three times? Wasn’t the third time supposed to be the charm? Or was that the fourth?
I pulled out my phone.
Want to go out tonight?
The text sat unread for long enough that my confidence started to crack. Then her reply popped up.
I’m still at work.
My energy flatlined. But before I could resign myself to an evening of reading romance novels on the couch with Chantel, my phone buzzed again.
But I’m starving. Pick me up at the resort when I’m done?
My pulse kicked as another message came through.
And this isn’t a date.
My fingers flew over the screen.
Whatever you say.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
I mean it, Caleb.
I know you do. What time are you done?
Her reply came fast.
Sex.
My brain stalled out on that word even as my phone buzzed again.
OMG! SIX. Pick me up at SIX. Stupid autocorrect.
I bit down on my lip to keep from laughing out loud.
“What are you grinning at?” Chantel smirked, her eyes still glued to her book.
“Nothing.” My smile grew wider. “Just making plans with Zadie.”
“Good.” She turned a page. “Go have fun with her in person. And don’t bring her back until tomorrow morning if you can help it.”
Fuck, my cousin really was bossy.
But right now, I didn’t mind one bit. I had two hours to shower, change, and figure out where to take a woman who insisted this wasn’t a date to a dinner that was one hundred percent a date.
Two hours. I’d been patient for weeks. I could handle two more hours.
After that, all bets were off.