21. Marnie
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Marnie
I’ve been staring at the same order form for over an hour, looking at the words but not comprehending them.
My mind has been replaying our kiss over and over, the spark between us strong enough to rival that of the fireworks we watched crackle over the night sky.
The way his lips commanded mine. The way he looked at me like I was the only thing in this world.
I close my eyes and smile, still able to feel him on my mouth.
Except when that memory ends, it’s replaced by the horrific aftermath of the bonfire. How fast the little girl got taken under. Seeing Caleb struggle against the waves and feeling completely helpless. The blood pooling in the sand after he made it to shore. So much blood.
Even now, three days later, I’m still haunted by it all.
My body was running on pure adrenaline once I started driving to the hospital. Seeing Caleb in that state—in so much pain—made my chest ache.
When he asked me to stay with him, I couldn’t say no.
After Caleb fell asleep, Parker called and told me he was coming by to take a shift.
Caleb is lucky to have a support system of friends that care for him so deeply.
Ones that would do anything and drop everything when one of them was in trouble.
A sharp pang hits my chest when I think about how much he relies on his friends over his own family.
I’m glad Caleb has them in his life, especially since his relationship with his dad is so strained.
When Parker arrived, I was grateful for the reprieve.
I held myself together in front of Caleb—he was the one in pain, after all.
I needed to be strong for him when he couldn’t be.
But after I walked out the front door, I sat and cried on his porch.
All the emotions from the day came pouring out of me and I was powerless to stop them.
I try to shake the memories of last weekend out of my head, but every time I close my eyes, I’m right back there on the beach, in the hospital. Reliving it all like a nightmare.
He could’ve gotten seriously hurt. Or worse.
I try not to think about the worse alternatives, or why thinking about something bad happening to Caleb elicits such a reaction from me.
I groan and lean back in my chair, massaging my temple. I do that for several minutes before leaning forward again to attempt another read-through of the order form in front of me.
My thoughts grow louder the longer I read—so loud that I don’t hear someone enter my office. Something slides into view, the familiar sound of a cardboard cup scraping across my desk. The scribbled message on the side of the cup draws my attention.
No debate question, just a note.
Thank you.
Tears well up in my eyes, but I quickly blink them away and look up at Caleb.
“Hi,” I croak, feeling the burning sensation of more tears forming.
“Hey,” he replies. There’s genuine concern on his face.
Maybe he could see that I was on the verge of crying again, or maybe he saw the bags under my eyes and knew that I hadn’t slept all weekend.
“How are you?” he asks, slowly sitting down across from me and leaning his crutch against the desk.
His movements are stiff and cautious, but the fact that he is only using a single crutch and putting some weight on his leg this soon is promising.
“How am I? I should be asking you that question.”
He leans back against the chair, a soft groan escaping his lips, and looks down at himself. “Surprisingly, I’ve been worse. This doesn’t even rank in my top ten injuries between sports and stupid shit Parker and I have gotten into.”
His words make my heart ache. Always trying to downplay the severity of the situation. Never wanting others to feel responsible for him. Never wanting to feel like a burden.
I meet his eye again, and there’s something serious in his expression. Something earnest.
“I know I wrote it on the cup, but thank you. For everything.”
“It was no trouble. I’m just glad it wasn’t worse.”
“How are you?” he asks again.
I think on my words for a minute. “I’m okay. I was really worried at first. I thought you smacked your head when the wave took you under from the way you were talking at the hospital.”
“How bad was I? Don’t leave me hanging,” he chuckles. “To be honest, I don’t remember much from the hospital. Probably some kind of trauma response.”
“You had quite a lot to say.”
He winces and smiles sheepishly. “That bad, huh?”
I nod. “You told the hospital staff we were married so they’d let me in the room with you.”
“You’re telling me we got married and I don’t remember it?”
“Well in your defense, I don’t remember getting married either. But you were making quite a fuss at the staff, insisting that they stop harassing your wife. The whole situation was so ridiculous that it was almost funny.”
“You know what I do remember, though?”
“What?”
He pauses for a moment before answering. “That kiss.”
A noncommittal noise weasels its way out of my throat, a desperate attempt to buy myself a few extra seconds to decide how to respond.
It was easier to find ways to distract myself when I was alone, but with him now in front of me, I can’t ignore the reality of what we did, and how it can’t happen again.
That night both scared the hell out of me and put everything into perspective.
It made me realize I’m developing feelings for Caleb, even though I shouldn’t.
This was just supposed to be some harmless flirting and nothing more.
If all goes according to plan, this exhibit will go off without a hitch and come September I’ll be back in Boston settling into my new promotion.
I divert my eyes so I don’t have to see the hurt on his face when I land the blow. “That kiss was a mistake.”
Even with my gaze cast downward, it’s impossible to miss the devastation written all over his face.
“No, it wasn’t,” he insists, voice cracking on the last word. “That kiss was everything.”
“Yeah, it was,” I admit. “But this isn’t what we agreed to.”
“I know what we agreed to. But that was before we kissed. Things have changed.”
A deep sigh hangs on my lips as I steel my shoulders. “But they can’t,” I whisper, one last feeble attempt at self-preservation. “I’m leaving in less than two months. I can’t promise you anything long-term. I don’t want to lead you on like that.”
“That should be my decision. I should be able to decide what I can and can’t handle. I will take whatever you give me for as long as you’ll give it to me.”
His confession tugs at my heart, but I’m not sure how to respond to that . . . how to tell him that maybe I can’t handle it.
I’ve never developed such strong feelings for someone. I’m scared to want him, and knowing this is only temporary is making it that much harder. It’s best if we just rip the Band-Aid off now before this goes too far.
“I think,” I hesitate, “we should try to forget it happened.”
“If that’s what you want.”
I don’t know what I want.
Scratch that, I know what I want . . . I just can’t have it.
An awkward silence falls between us.
“Are you still coming out with us on Friday?” There’s a mix of caution and hope in his voice, like there’s still a chance to salvage this.
I paste on a smile. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Good. Then I guess I’ll see you Friday night.” The chair creaks as he uses the arms to brace himself for an assist in standing. “I’ll send you those invoices later this week once I get the final quotes from the vendor.”
I move to help him, but he makes it up and to the door too quickly, turning and pausing to look back at me.
“Marnie?”
“Yeah?”
“If you change your mind . . . you know, about us, let me know.”