by Skyla Madi
I’m surprised to see Father Andrews dressed casually in a pair of sneakers, jeans, and a yellow polo. I don’t know why I was expecting him to show up in a vestment of some sort.
“Cass.” Caleb smooths his hand over my back and gestures to the woman in a floor-length maxi-dress standing a foot behind Father Andrews, a woman I didn’t notice until now. “This is my sister, Penelope.”
My eyebrows lift. She’s beautiful, breathtakingly so, like she’s stepped right off the cover of Vogue. She looks nothing like Father Andrews with her long, long reddish-blonde hair, pale skin, and big bright eyes, but there’s a hint of Caleb in the shape of her face, something they clearly got from their mother. Her dress clings to her subtle curves and opens at her small breasts, exposing her milky freckled skin. Penelope smiles widely at me and steps forward, her long slender arms open and ready to hug me.
“Finally!” she cheers, wrapping me up in her arms. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
I hug her back. “Likewise.”
“Oh, that’s unfortunate.” She laughs, and I’m amazed how similar it is to Caleb’s. Penelope releases me, moving over to hug her brother. “It’s not your typical family history, that’s for sure,” she adds, turning all her attention on Caleb.
My gaze flickers to Father Andrews, and his jaw is tight, red tainting his freshly shaven cheeks. Our stares catch for a second, making my heart stutter with sympathy, and embarrassment, given the rumor that apparently circulated about us. Has he heard it? My stomach turns. I hope not. I quickly downcast my attention to the floor. I know everything about his wife and what she did, but I don’t want him to know that. I have no business sticking my nose in his family affairs.
“Can I take your suitcase?” Father Andrews asks, and I know he’s speaking to me, but I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze.
“Oh. No. That’s okay—”
He steps around me and takes it anyway. Caleb’s too. Penelope picks up my handbag off the floor and smiles at us once more, her excited stare flicking between us, before she turns and walks beside her…ex-father? What does she call him? Dad? Father Andrews? David? Is that his first name? Caleb presses a firm, large hand to the small of my back, pulling me from my thoughts. Leaning toward me, he plants a kiss on my cheek.
“We’re going to finish that kiss when we get home.” The rich sound of his husky voice reverberated around my brain, charging every nerve in my body.
“It’s not finished?”
He laughs as he leads me through the airport toward the exit. “Not even close.”
The car ride home is uneventful. Penelope does all the talking with Caleb and Father Andrews occasionally chiming in. I keep my attention out the window, recognizing everything we drive by, but it doesn’t sink in that I’m in Paradise Valley until I’m standing in Caleb’s yard overlooking his ostentatious pool house. The last time I was here was bitter-sweet. Bitter because that whole night went to shit. Sweet because of how much Caleb opened up to me.
I step past Caleb and go inside as he unlocks the door and slides it open. It’s exactly as I remember it. Immaculate, surprisingly refined, and filled with furniture made from dark oak and chocolate-colored leather. I inhale through my nose, filling my lungs with familiarity, and wiggle my toes in the shaggy rug under my feet. I glance down at the charcoal carpet. I bet it’d feel amazing on bare skin…
Behind me, the door closes.
I lift my head.
The lock clicks.
I straighten, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as salacious energy frissons down my spine. I feel the carpet compress at my heels and, by my sides, I open my closed fists. I turn my head to the side, and my cheek meets Caleb’s lips with a gentle brush.
“Can you believe we’re here?” he asks, his voice a whisper in the silent room. I feel his lips ease into a smile. “Again?”
“No.” I shake my head. “It feels like a lifetime ago.”
“It was a lifetime ago.” He glides his hand under the fabric of my shirt and hoodie to grip my bare hip. My blood fizzles under his touch, bubbling like a shaken soda. “A long, awful time I never want to live through again.”
“You won’t,” I promise.
Caleb hums his agreement and releases my hip with a soft kiss to my cheek. “Get dressed. We’re going to the hospital. After, I’m taking you to the fair.”
I turn around and catch him by his elbow before he can walk away. “The fair? Why?”
He arches a brow. “You don’t want to go?”
I lift my shoulder with a halfhearted shrug. I love fairs. The crowd, the food, and the atmosphere make me as happy as a toddler with a bucket of cotton candy, but I don’t want to go out in Paradise Valley more than I have to already, not after the things Fiona told me. It doesn’t bother Caleb, mostly because the stories surrounding him and all those women were true and he’s never been the type to apologize for who he is—or was. Given his father’s station at the Maricopa County’s largest church, and the shocking trauma of his childhood, he’s used to the public attention. I’m not. My whole life, I’ve sat in the background and blended in, my parents made it that way. While Caleb is familiar with sugary giggles and excited whispers following him through town, I’m not.
“I’d prefer it if we came home after the hospital.” I step closer and press my hand to his stomach. His abs clench. “And remain in bed for the rest of our stay.”
“We’ll spend plenty of time in bed,” he says, removing my hand from his stomach to entwine his fingers with mine. “But while we’re here, I want to date you.”
I frown. “You are dating me.”
“I’m fucking you. It’s not the same thing,” he states firmly, leaving no room for a rebuttal. “We've never been on a date.”
“Yes, we have.” I mentally flick through all the things Caleb and I have done together…and, damn. I come up short. “We had dinner at Benny’s,” I tell him, grasping at straws. “That was technically a date.”
Deadpan, he stares down his nose at me. “You had a boyfriend. I was barely allowed to touch you.”
I cringe. Fair point. “What about last night? The church?”
“Not a date.” Frustration flickers across his face as he blows a gentle but impatient breath from his nose. “You went on dates with Nick.”
“Yes, but I wasn’t having sex with him.”
“A relationship isn’t one or the other. It’s both.”
“I didn’t know anyone in New York,” I point out, trying from another angle. “I didn’t have to hide.”
“What do you have to hide from here?” He looks for the answer to his question in my silence. “Your parents won’t be at the fair.”
And he doesn’t find it.
“I’m not talking about my parents.” I tip my head to the side, and recognition flares in Caleb’s brilliant green irises. “People think I had sex with your dad. Doesn’t that bother you?”
I hate my voice exposes how hurt I am by the stories that circulated in my absence, but there’s no concealing it. There’s something I find terribly unnerving about strangers dissecting and discussing my sex life, thinking they know everything about it. I’ve always been a private person, by choice and by force, and to have a spotlight shone on something so intimate unleashes a chaotic kind of anxiety in my chest. And for them to pair me to Father Andrews? My love interest’s father? It’s both humiliating and disgusting.
Caleb grimaces. “I didn’t realize you knew about the rumors.”
“I do.”
He wraps me up in his strong arms and holds me close, chest to chest. “I'm just trying to take you out. It doesn’t have to be to the fair. There’s hiking, shopping, dinner—wherever you want to go.”
I catch my lower lip between my teeth and imagine us out there having the kind of fun we’ve never been able to have. If going on a date with him makes him happy, then I guess I can swallow the apprehension that’s plagued me since arriving in Paradise Valley and ignore everythin
g else.
“Okay,” I say on exhale. “You can take me to the fair.”
His features brighten, and he beams down at me. “Get dressed. Wear something that makes you feel pretty.”
He lowers his arms, but I hug him tighter and lift myself onto the tips of my toes, drawing closer to his full lips. “You promised me a finished kiss, remember?”
He glances at the far wall, then back to me as our bottom lips graze. “We don’t have enough time.”
I pull back an inch. “For a kiss?”
His mouth quirks at the corners, and the minute twitch is as mischievous as any full-blown smirk. “It’s never just a kiss with us.”
I start to back down, but he snaps forward and kisses me anyway, knocking the air from my lungs. A thrilling, vibrating sensation explodes in my chest and zips down all my limbs, tingling in the points of each finger and every toe, the phenomenal byproduct of his compelling touch.
Caleb surges forward, and I stumble, my lips never breaking from his, as he backs us up. My heel hits the skirting board behind me and I gasp, breaking the kiss to splay my palms on the cold wall surface. He snatches my hips before I’ve opened my eyes and turns me so fast my head spins. Caleb chuckles darkly, a full, rumble in his chest, and grabs my wrists. Tugging them up, he slams my palms to the wall, and I shiver as he brushes the tip of his nose along my neck, inhaling me.
“Keep them there,” he demands, releasing my wrists.
I do as I’m told and close my eyes as he curls his thick fingers around the hem of my sweatpants and pulls them down, crouching as he goes. I swallow hard, then feel warm lips on the back of my thigh. My mouth parts, and I let out a shaky breath, my knees wavering with every press of his gentle kiss.
Chapter Thirteen
C A L E B
Cassia pulls the blue hair net over her high, messy bun and grins at me. I can’t help but laugh at her. I rake my stare down the disposable cyan apron that mutes her black top and skin tight blue jeans. Her white blazer is swallowed by matching over sleeves, and cyan overshoes cover her nude pumps.
“You look ridiculous,” I tell her, and she snorts, rolling her ocean eyes.
“So do you.”
I glance down at my matching ensemble. She’s not wrong. Blue protective wear covers my white Balenciaga low sneakers, black Saint Laurent jeans, and plain white tee. I wouldn’t usually wear such an expensive outfit to a hospital, or a damn fair for that matter, but I want to show Cassia I don’t always dress like a troubled misfit in loose tees and jeans that’ve seen better days or a good church boy in button ups and pressed slacks. I can dress like I live on the Upper East Side of New York, like she does. We’re a perfect fucking match and there’s no denying it.
“Why are we wearing this?” she asks, adjusting her apron.
“Bree requested it.”
While Cassia showered, I spoke to Bree on the phone. Her instructions were clear. Shower well, avoid wearing cologne, wear the PPE, and don’t touch Agnes. She said her body is having a hard time fighting off the post-surgery infection and her immune system is real low. Just in case, Bree also asked me to say goodbye without alerting Agnes to the fact I’m saying it…and the thought of having to do it is killing me slowly.
Ignoring the nurse that walks around us, doing whatever it is she’s doing, I step toward Cassia, grab her by the waist, and pull her close to me, our disposable clothing crinkling as they rub together. Her blue stare meets mine, and she offers me a small, comforting smile. I crane my neck to kiss her and—
“No kissing, please.”
I snap my head toward a short, burly nurse wearing dark emerald green scrubs. “Really?”
With her hands on her thick hips, she pins us down with her demanding black stare. “Really. Let’s also keep physical contact to a minimum.”
Cassia inches back, but I tighten my grip on her, not dropping my gaze from the nurse. The name badge pin to her chest says her name is Susan. Typical. Who is she to take away my only lifeline? The only reason I’m not a nervous wreck?
“Bree Gordon set the boundaries, advised by Ms. McNamara’s doctor, and I’m paid to make sure they’re followed.” She points a finger between us. “Your little public display of affection won’t come between me and my next paycheck, so hands…and lips…off.”
Cutting my eyes and clenching my jaw, I pry my fingers from Cassia’s body and stuff my hands into my pockets where I can better control them. Susan smiles, and it’s triumphant. Smug, even.
“For the record, you both look ridiculous,” she adds before turning in her flat canvas shoes and walking away.
Cassia pulls a face at me. “I told you. I feel like a…like a…” Her eyebrows draw together. “I’m trying to think of something, but I’m drawing a blank.” She plants her hands on her hips. “I feel like a something wrapped in a something.”
I laugh once. “Poetic.” And I step closer to her despite the nurse’s warning. My fingers twitch in my pockets, desperate to reach out for her. I want to run my hands along the smooth skin on either side of her neck. I want to cup her face, kiss her plump lips. “I’d still have sex with you.”
My attention flutters to a tiny love bite I left below her jaw earlier. I took her hard against the wall, probably too hard. She’s tried to cover it with makeup, but there’s no hiding it under these lights.
“Well, I’m glad,” she says, tilting her head to hide the mark with shadows. A pink blush deepens in her cheeks, and it makes her look so damn cute and endearing. “I was worried you wouldn’t.”
Sarcasm. I step closer again and pull my hand from my pocket. “Bring the outfit home. I’ll show you.”
I pinch the plastic at her hip with my gloved fingers and tug on it, pulling her close enough for our torsos to touch again. “We can roleplay,” I add.
Cassia arches a perfectly manicured brow. “What role would you play?”
“I’m the hot doctor, obviously.”
She rolls her eyes again. “And me? What’s my role?”
I think on it for a beat. She could be the sexy nurse…but I suppose that’s cliché. My girl is anything but cliché. “You’re the sick, but still incredibly sexy, patient.”
She screws up her face, unimpressed. “That’s not sexy.”
“Sure it is.” I take my other hand out of my pocket and hold her hips. “I come in, check your vitals, and make sure you’re getting the care you need—”
“Cale—”
“You’re grateful I’m there to take care of you, since you’ve been in isolation for months. I’m barely in the room ten minutes before you beg me to take your temperature with my co—”
A husky sound reverberates around the sparse room as someone clears their throat. I turn my head to meet the same nurse from a few minutes ago, Susan, glaring down her tiny nose at me. This time, she looks more like an angry bulldog than a displeased human.
Jesus Christ…
“I’m still here,” she states, planting her short-fingered hands on her hips. A lock from her short, unflattering blonde-brunette bob falls into her face.
“Unfortunately.”
“And you’re still touching.”
“How perceptive of you,” I shoot back, deadpan.
Cursing under her breath, Cassia tries to inch out of my grasp, but holding onto her seems to irk the nurse, so she’s not going anywhere. Touching Cassia isn’t going to hurt anyone—least of all Agnes. I’ve got gloves on. I’m wrapped from head to toe in weird fabric and plastics. It’s overkill.
“I’m under specific instruction not to give anyone who’ll put Ms. McNamara at increased risk access to the room.” Something glistens in the nurse’s chocolate-colored eyes and that smug quirk in her full lips makes its return. “Now I think about it…you’re looking a little pale. Are you feeling under the weather?”
I glare at her. She wouldn’t dare. “I feel fine.”
“Mm.” Susan steps forward, staring me down. “You should wait a few days. Just in case.”
I square my shoulders and keep my attention on her. I’m not caving. Fuck her. She doesn’t look like she’s going to cave either. Fuck me. I slide my teeth together as my pride and humility go to war in my chest. Pride because Cassia is mine—finally—and I don’t need anyone’s permission to touch her or kiss her. Humility because I know I’m not above the rules, that I should follow them like everyone else or risk not seeing Agnes.
I drum my fingers against Cassia’s hip. I should kiss her so hard it makes Susan uncomfortable. I should kiss her so hard, so good, Susan loses her breath and every time she closes her eyes, me claiming Cassia’s perfect little mouth springs to the forefront of her mind.
“Caleb.” My name is a sharp whisper on Cassia’s tongue, a warning not to push my luck.
“All right,” I say on exhale, glancing up at the ceiling. Something ugly twists in my chest and boils in my blood, but I hold it in as I release her. “I’ll fucking behave.”
“One more time without the expletive, thanks.”
I cut my eyes at Susan. I never thought anyone could annoy me as much as Nick, but here we are. “Fuck—”
“Caleb,” Cassia hisses, her glare burning holes in the side of my face.
I rub my tongue against the roof of my mouth, then bite it. Say it. Say what she wants you to say. Without swearing. It’s easy. I make a tight noise in my chest. God damn it. I can’t.
“Don’t make me call security,” Susan warns, her smug demeanor gone.
“That won’t be necessary,” Cassia interjects on my behalf. She touches my arm, and the nurse grumbles. “What has gotten into you?”
“I don’t like her attitude,” I say, not taking my attention from Susan.
“Hers? What about yours?” Cassia tugs on my arm, forcing my gaze to hers. Captivated by her concerned blue stare, a sliver of calmness slides through me. “Don’t do this. Agnes would love to see you and…what if you miss your chance to say goodbye? You’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
I swallow my aggression. Did I start this fight between Susan and me? I can’t remember. All I know is Cassia soothes me when I’m nervous and agitated. Touching her skin is like applying balm to a burn, to a bite that won’t stop itching, and I don’t like Susan trying to take it away from me.