Chapter 7
I was always stubborn as a child. Took after my mother, as my father would often point out laughingly.
Maybe that’s one of the reasons why my mother and I will simply never get along.
I stare out the car window, my body warm from the heater, but there’s something cold and hard lodged deep inside my chest. There is no length my mother will not go to to get her way, but I am my mother’s daughter. I refuse to bend to her wishes.
This is my life, and I've carefully constructed the parameters I live by with my own rules. I won’t let her take it away from me.
Seeing Luis standing on the front porch of my childhood home pissed me off. The frustration and the humiliation were too much. The smug satisfaction in his eyes as if I were something that had always belonged to him, a toy my mother had handed over to him. A thing with no autonomy.
I could hear the whispered argument between Marco and my mother. But Marco, as loving as he is, cannot stand up against my mother. He's always protected her.
He convinced me to stay for dinner, and I watched while my mother criticized the green bean salad she normally loves.
I chewed the food placed in front of me but tasted nothing; it all felt like ash in my mouth.
Luis’s presence radiated against me like toxic coals while my mother droned on and on about how she was envisioning a summer wedding for us, assuring him I would properly apologize to him later.
I knew leaving then was impossible, so I waited for the right opportunity. During dessert, I slipped out.
I had plans to take my keys and belongings, but she hid everything away. She knew I would try to escape. As if that would stop me. So I walked.
The anger burning inside me provided enough fuel for me to place one foot after the other. It was so cold that when I stumbled and lost my shoe, I didn’t even notice. I just wanted to get home where I would feel safe, where nobody could hurt me.
Of course I had to run into Caleb, of all people.
I tug at the sleeves of the jacket he forced me to wear. It smells like him. My eyes are fluttering shut, and I wonder why I find his scent so comforting.
“...ve?”
I jerk awake at the sound of my name. “Huh?”
“We’re here.”
There’s a face close to mine. A very handsome face. Dazedly, I stare at it, and then it murmurs, “Eve?” I blink, trying to focus on this face hovering inches from mine. Caleb’s blue eyes are studying me with an intensity that makes my stomach flutter.
“We’re here,” he repeats, his voice gentler than I’ve ever heard it.
I look around, recognizing the familiar brick facade of my apartment building. The warmth from the car’s heater has made me drowsy, and my limbs feel heavy, like I’m moving through molasses.
“Right. Thanks for the ride.” I fumble for the door handle, determined to salvage what’s left of my dignity. “I can take it from here.”
“Eve, wait—”
But I’m already pushing the door open, struggling with the seat belt.
It takes me a minute to get it off, and then I’m swinging my legs out of the car.
The moment I try to stand, my knees buckle.
The combination of cold, exhaustion, and whatever emotional hurricane just tore through my family dinner has left me shakier than I want to admit.
I’m falling forward when strong arms catch me, pulling me against a solid chest.
“I’ve got you,” Caleb murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.
I’m startled by how fast he was able to glide around the car, but for the moment, I let myself lean into him. He’s solid and warm, and the way his arms tighten around me makes something inside my chest crack open. I can feel his heartbeat against my cheek, steady and reassuring.
Then reality crashes back.
“I’m fine,” I say, trying to push away from him. “Just lost my balance for a second.”
“You’re lying.” His arms don’t loosen. If anything, he holds me tighter.
“I don’t need—”
“Stop.” His voice is firm, cutting through my protest. “Just stop, Eve.”
I look up at him, and there’s something in his expression that makes my defenses slam back into place. “I’m not pretending anything. I’m fine.”
“Right. And I’m the Pope.” He shifts his grip, supporting more of my weight.
I want to argue, but the truth is my legs feel like jelly, and my head is spinning. “I can walk on my own, Your Holiness.”
“Sure you can, Princess. Right after you stop using me as a human crutch.”
“I’m not using you as anything,” I snap, annoyed. “You forced yourself into this situation, remember?”
“Megan,” he calls over his shoulder, completely ignoring my protest. “Little help here?”
“On it!” His sister appears at my other side, and suddenly I'm being supported by both of them as we make our way to the building entrance.
“This is ridiculous,” I mutter. “I can walk perfectly fine.”
“Of course you can,” Megan says cheerfully. “Right after you stop swaying like you’re on a boat.”
“I'm not swaying.”
“Honey, you’re moving like a palm tree in a hurricane.” Megan pats my arm.
We reach my apartment door on the third floor, and I realize I don’t have my keys. “Shit. My keys are still at—” I shake my head, feeling exhausted, my legs aching. “Sorry, under the potted plant. There’s a spare taped to the bottom.”
Megan immediately crouches down, running her hands under the large ceramic pot beside my door. “Got it!”
She unlocks the door and pushes it open, revealing my intentionally curated living space. Bay windows showcase the city lights, and my sectional faces a wall of art I’ve collected over the years.
Stepping into my home brings a sense of comfort and safety, anchoring me to reality. “I need to shower and change. I can take it from here.”
“We’re going to stay,” Megan says casually, “just in case something happens.”
“You really don’t have to,” I begin, but Caleb agrees with Megan.
“You look like death warmed over, and not in an attractive way.”
“I’m more concerned you find that attractive.” I manage to interject some sarcasm into my voice despite the fact I’m seconds away from keeling over.
“Take a shower, Eve,” he says tightly. “We’re not going anywhere till you’re done.”
I don’t have the strength to argue with them. “Fine. Five minutes. Don’t touch anything while I’m gone.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
In my bathroom, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and wince.
My hair is a disaster, my makeup is smudged, and I look like I’ve been dragged through a war zone.
I start the shower, letting the steam fill the room while I gently finger-comb my knots and cleanse the makeup from my face, carefully checking the scratches on my cheek.
Once I’ve detangled myself from the mess of the day, I slip inside.
The hot water feels incredible against my skin, washing away the remnants of the cold and some of the tension from my shoulders. I let myself stand under the spray longer than necessary, using the time to rebuild my walls.
When I finally emerge, I feel more like myself. I pull on a soft cashmere sweater and am reaching for my favorite pajama pants—the ones with little cats on them that I’d die before admitting I own when I remember Caleb is just outside the door. I pick out beige sweats instead.
I’m towel-drying my hair when I hear voices from the living room.
“This art collection is incredible,” Megan is saying. “And the way she’s arranged everything... It’s like something out of a magazine. She has excellent taste.”
“Yeah, she does,” Caleb’s voice carries a note of genuine appreciation. “But don’t tell her I said that. It’ll just go to her head.”
“I heard that.”
Caleb sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Of course you did.”
“Your regret is noted,” I say dryly, stepping into the living room. “But I already know I have excellent taste.”
“There’s that ego I was worried about,” he mutters.
I shoot him a withering look before turning to both of them. “Thank you. For helping me tonight. Both of you.” The words come out stiff, like I’m choking on them when I look at Caleb. “But I’m fine now. I think I was just tired from walking for hours. I’ll eat something and get some sleep.”
“Hours?” Megan’s eyes widen. “You walked for hours in that weather?”
“It wasn’t that bad—”
Caleb cuts in, his voice sharp with concern. “What the hell happened?”
I wave him off. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“Right, because you handled it so well,” he says sarcastically. “One shoe, no coat, no phone—”
“I said it’s handled.” My voice has an edge that makes both siblings pause.
Megan looks between us, then grins at her brother. “Speaking of handling things, we should all order some pizzas.”
“That’s really not necessary,” I start, already feeling overwhelmed by their presence in my space.
“Actually, we should probably head out,” Caleb says at the same time, clearly as eager to escape as I am to get rid of them.
Before either of us can elaborate, I hear the distinct sound of a key turning in my lock. Right on schedule.
“That’ll be my brother,” I say with relief, moving toward the door as it swings open. Marco steps inside, my purse and keys clutched in his hands, along with my missing shoe dangling from his fingers.
“I brought your things,” he says simply, his eyes immediately scanning past me to take in my unexpected guests. His gaze lingers on Caleb with obvious curiosity, like he’s trying to place where he’s seen him before.
“Where’s Rafael?” I ask, motioning to my belongings.
“He took his own car. Said he had to take care of something,” Marco says, but his attention is focused on Caleb and Megan. “These are friends of yours?”
“Colleagues,” I correct quickly, shooting Caleb a warning look. “Well, Caleb and I work together. This is his sister, Megan. They helped me get home. They were just leaving.”
“Helped?” Marco frowns. “Didn’t you leave in a car?”
“She walked home,” Caleb says pleasantly, but his voice is hard. “In this weather. With just a cardigan on. There was a man harassing her on the street. We stepped in.”