My eyes promptly drop to my hands that are clasped in my lap. I want to trust him. I really do, but I'm scared to tell him the parts of me that scare even myself. I wait for him to press, but he doesn't. I chew my bottom lip and try to sort out the mess that's in my mind. There's a part of me that knows that Caleb will keep anything I say to himself. It'll never leave his lips. But shit, if I give him the parts of me that I've given no one else, how do I still hold on to my heart? Because I'm falling for this man, and I don't know how to stop it from happening.
In the end, I follow my gut, because the connection we have is too strong to resist. I refuse to look at him as I draw my knees to my chest, my arms clasping around them defensively. It’s a classic ‘don’t touch me’ signal that’s clear as day. I hear Caleb release a soft, disappointed sigh as I physically shut him out. But I have to. If I'm going to dig up old shit that's going to hurt, I don't want his comfort. I still need to keep some semblance of distance between us.
My lips tighten as I stare out at the ocean before I reluctantly begin to talk. I'm careful to keep my tone calm and neutral. “Micah was my twin, and we were close, extremely close growing up. He was seventeen when he died. I got drunk at a party, and he wanted to take me home.” Guilt eats away at me as I continue, my voice flat as I speak. “I'd gotten in a fight with my boyfriend, and Micah knew if I stayed, I'd simply make things worse.” I let out a soft, empty laugh. “Micah was always bailing me out of trouble. I've always been pretty head strong while he was the calm one. He could talk me down from anything, because when he spoke, I listened. Micah was just one of those people that you couldn't resist. His laughter was infectious. You could be spittin' mad at him one moment and laughing the next, because he made a wise-ass joke that broke the tension.” I realize my voice is thick with unshed tears as I speak, and I sense Caleb moving towards me. “Don't!” I warn sharply without looking at him.
“I just want to touch you in some small way. I’ve opened you up to this pain, and I want to go through it with you,” he says softly.
A tear trickles down my cheek, and I stare bitterly at the water. “Don't. Just...I don't want your comfort. I can't... If you want me to talk, you'll just be quiet and let me without speaking. I know I sound like a bitch, but I can't do it with...” My jaw clenches as I stare at a seagull hovering over the water. “I don't want that closeness with you,” I tell him with brutal honesty. “I can't handle both, okay? I can't open up to you and take your comfort at the same time. It's too much.”
Caleb is silent for a long moment. “Okay,” he says quietly.
I swallow the lump in my throat and continue sharing the past that haunts me daily. “It was late when we left the party, and it was up in the hills; lots of blind turns. There was a deer standing in the middle of the road and...Micah swerved to avoid it.” I can envision the scene unfolding in my head, and I can feel the blood draining from my face as I re-live that horrific moment when I knew I was going to die. “The car was headed for a huge tree. There was no way to avoid it, we were just going too fast. The passenger side would have taken the brunt of the accident,” I whisper as my eyes close. “He tried to turn the wheel in the last moment, trying to save me from the impact. H-his side got the worst of it. He...he died instantly.” My head drops to my knees, and I draw in deep, shuddering breaths as I try to control the emotions that are unraveling within me. I hear Caleb curse under his breath, but he doesn't touch me, and he doesn't say anything.
It's a couple minutes before I have myself under control. I've somehow managed to keep the tears from escaping, and I sniffle slightly. I lift my head and rest my chin on my hands that are clasped tightly on top of my knees. “I regained consciousness while I was still trapped in the car,” I say hollowly. “It took an hour before someone came along and called for help.” I lick my dry lips and try to shake off that horrible trapped feeling that still exists deep within me. “One minute Micah was alive, and the next he was gone. Life seemed to come to a grinding halt for me after his death. I couldn't move on, and I couldn't handle seeing Micah's girlfriend. I even shut out my boyfriend. What I really needed were my parents,” I say bitterly as I stare at a boat in the distance. “They were dealing with their grief in their own way, though. My mom spent most of her time locked in her bedroom while my dad was always hovering over her. I was forgotten. Two months later my mom snapped out of it, and next thing I know, we're moving and my parents were taking on extra hours at their jobs.”
I can sense Caleb wanting to say something, but he keeps it to himself.
“They erased him from our lives,” I say flatly as I look at him. His blue gaze is focused intently on me, and I can see emotion swirling in those depths, but I don't bother trying to decipher it. I'm angry now, and I can handle anger, which is why I am now facing him. “They didn't put up any pictures of Micah. All his stuff was...I don't know. I don't know where his belongings are. If they saved them or threw them. One second he was my brother, and the next he was gone! He was gone! I hate them,” I say angrily. “I hate them for abandoning me, because they did, Caleb. I wasn't important enough to grieve with. I'd always been the trouble maker, and maybe that was their issue. It was the good kid that died instead of the bad one.”
Caleb grabs my shoulders and peers into my face, his expression fierce now that he's no longer content to stay silent. “No. No, Zoey. I can guarantee that's not what they were thinking at the time.”
“You don't know that,” I say bitterly. “You don't even know them! You have no idea what it was like to wake up in the hospital and not have them there. My mom had a breakdown when she learned of Micah’s death, and my dad chose to be with her instead of me. He continuously chose her, over and over again, while I was forgotten. It was as if they were punishing me or something.” My chest physically hurts as I fight back the tears that once again want to burst forth from behind the walls I’ve erected for so long.
Caleb’s mouth opens, then he seems to change his mind about what he was going to say. “They were wrong, Zoey. They fucked up, but it's not because of anything you did, sweetheart. You can hide behind that mouth of yours all you want, but you are a kind and giving person. I have a feeling you've always been that way, and I'm sure they saw it each and every day. You did nothing wrong.”
I stare at him for a long moment. I hear what he's saying, but I just don't believe it. Actions speak louder than anything else, and they'd abandoned me. “People leave me,” I whisper brokenly.
Caleb's eyes close briefly, and when they open a second later, his hands lift as they frame the sides of my face, his eyes growing determined. “No. Micah was an accident. As for your parents, I can't explain their reasoning for what they did, only they can. But no one else has left you, Zoey. Ace, Jeremy, and AJ have fought tooth and nail to keep you in their lives. I'm here, too. No one's abandoning you.” He has a firm grasp on my face, and I’m sure he won’t let me go even if I try to pull back. So I shift my eyes away from his as I struggle with all the emotions that have been brought to the surface. I wasn't prepared for any of it, and I don't know what to do with it all.
“I know you're hurting. I know you're scarred from the past, but it'll get it easier if you deal with it instead of avoiding it. Zoey, look at me.”
I reluctantly meet his steady gaze again.
His eyes survey mine as he says, “You might get pissed at me for saying this, and if that's what happens, then so be it. But it needs to be said. I think you have signs of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and maybe depression.”
“What?” I ask faintly. I try to pull back from his hands, but he won't let me go. He keep his hands framing my face, his eyes and lips only mere inches from mine. He's not letting me go until he has his say. Oddly enough, I'm not fighting him on this, at least not as much as I should. Maybe it's because I sense he might be on to something. I've always known there's something wrong with me. But I never considered looking into finding answers for the way I act these days.
“Do
n't get mad, but I spoke to one of my professors about you. I didn't give him your name or anything. I just told him that I have a friend that seems to be going through some pretty tough stuff. I laid out everything I've noticed, especially these debilitating nightmares that you have, and he agrees with me. The nightmares, your anger, your indifference, your evident preoccupation with death... It all makes sense now.”
My brows pull together. “What are you saying?”
“I'm saying you have a disorder. You're not dealing with the trauma of what happened, and it's building up within you. You need to talk about Micah. You need to confront your parents, do everything you've been too scared to do. Let it out.”
“Easy for you to say,” I say waspishly as I jerk my head out of his hands. It's easy to tell someone else how to get better when they're not the one's standing in your shoes. Perhaps this was a mistake after all.
“I know it's not easy,” Caleb says patiently, ignoring my anger. “Death fucking sucks, Zoey. It rips you to pieces. It wreaks havoc on your mind, and it can be debilitating. It’ll continue to manifest within you, warping your sense of reality if you let it. Keeping people at a distance and being closed off isn’t healthy. Neither are these nightmares you have. It won’t ever go away if you don’t come to terms with Micah’s death.”
Everything within me freezes as I latch on to the one thing that has gotten through to me. “You said it can wreak havoc on the mind, warping one’s sense of reality. Does this include hallucinations?” It's the only thing I can grasp on to at that moment as I search his gaze intently.
“Yes,” he says simply. “Hallucinating a loved one can be another step in someone's grieving process. Some people hallucinate to comfort themselves, and that can be a good thing, it allows them to find peace with their loved one so they can move on. Everyone grieves differently.”
“So it's normal?” I ask hoarsely.
His eyes sharpen, and his gaze searches mine. “Have you been hallucinating Micah?”
I swallow hard and nod. “I thought... I thought I was going crazy. I...” My eyes search his anxiously. “I'm not? I'm not going mental, Caleb?”
“No, Zoey. You're just struggling to heal,” he says softly as he draws me into his arms, holding me tightly against his chest.
I'm right where I'd tried to avoid, but I can't help but relax into him as tears of relief begin to slide down my face. “I thought I was going insane,” I choke out as I fight back a sob.
“No. You're just hurting, and you don't know how to deal with it,” he says gently as he rubs my back.
I hold onto him tightly, my hands clenching into the fabric of his shirt on his back as I accept his comfort. I struggle for composure, because I don't want to break down. Not in Caleb's arms. I need to try to keep my head on straight while I'm with him. Eventually, I manage to pull back, and I wipe at a stray tear. Then, I look at him calmly. “Tell me again about this disorder stuff.”
He goes on to explain about the symptoms of PTSD and depression. I find myself relating to everything he says. My highs are high, but my lows are so low. I was never a violent person before Micah died, but now I've resorted to violence a few times when I'm angry—case in point, kicking Ace in the stomach in the bathroom and Caleb's nearly dislocated jaw. He tells me about suicidal ideation. About how one thinks about taking their own life but never really makes plans to do so. The thought’s there, but that's as far as it goes. I find myself going back in my mind, thinking of times when I have thought of what it’d be like if I was no longer here. I’ve never planned it in my mind, but there’s been times when the thought has been there. Like when I’d wanted to go into the ocean Saturday night. The idea of possibly joining Micah…
Holy crap. Is this really what's wrong with me? I'm still fucked up, but at least I have some answers now.
When he's finished explaining it to me, I pull back from him, distancing myself physically as I drop my head into my hands and draw in a deep breath. My eyes shut, and I feel overwhelmed. Why hadn't I ever thought about researching what I’ve been feeling? I knew I was angry, that it seems to control me sometimes instead of me controlling it. The numbness I feel, the misery that seems to hover around me... Shit. That darkness within me, I thought it was the beginnings of insanity, but instead it's depression? The twisted nightmares that torture me over and over again are from a disorder?
I swallow hard as I process it all.
My mind isn't broken. I'm not insane. When I see Micah, it's actually my subconscious trying to help me with my grief? I don't know what to do with all this information.
“Zoey?” Caleb asks gently.
At the sound of his voice cutting into my racing thoughts, my shoulders tense. “Just give me a minute,” I say, my voice muffled from my hands. This is just too much right now. I want to be alone to think. I drop my hands and look at him, my expression wary. “I need some time to process it all. I had no idea... I never thought to look for answers.” I bite my lip and meet his gaze, which is watchful and intent as he studies me. “I just want to go home.”
He stares at me with an intensity that warms my blood. “I know you're feeling overwhelmed right now, I can see it in your eyes. But I have more to say. I can't sit back any more like I have been. Maybe now is a shitty time to do this, but for once I have your undivided attention, there's no one to interrupt, and you have nowhere to run off to. I feel like if I don't take advantage of this moment, it's not going to happen. There won't be a right time for the conversation I want to have with you. So I need you to hear me out, okay?”
I haven't a clue what he wants to tell me, and I've never been one for surprises. I draw my knees up to my chest, immediately feeling defensive. I don't bother to hide my unease as I gaze back at him warily.
His lips curve down slightly, and he runs a hand through his hair as if he's second guessing himself. He then seems to make some sort of decision, because a hint of resolve flickers across his face. His eyes hold mine as he says, “I know I told you I'd be your friend. That we would keep things strictly platonic, and I will respect that if that's what you want. But Zoey, you have to know I want more.” My mouth falls open before I realize it's dropped. I quickly snap it shut, and he frowns at me when he sees my reaction. “Why do you look so surprised? We're always flirting, and I’m pretty sure all our dirty thoughts about each other are written on our faces when we're in the same room.”
I feel like I've got a sudden case of whiplash. Once second I'm learning that I'm likely suffering from a disorder and the next Caleb is telling me he wants more? What does he mean by that? Is he after a 'friends with benefits' relationship like I'd had with Jeremy? Wait—what about his girlfriend?
Caleb's blue eyes narrow on mine. “I need to know what you're thinking. Going by the expressions on your face, I've blindsided you. I thought you had some sort of idea of what I feel for you, and you were ignoring it because of your issues with getting close to anyone.”
My mouth opens, but I'm not sure what to say. I should have something ready to roll off my tongue, whether it's snarky or joking. But this...
This man confuses me on so many levels.
Caleb sighs heavily. “Fuck, I wasn’t expecting you to be speechless. I need you to talk and tell me what you’re thinking, and you go silent on me.”
I say the first thing that pops into my mind. “You have a girlfriend.”
He gives me a strange look. “What makes you think I have a girlfriend?”
“She's hanging on you all the time. That pretty blonde.” Just thinking of her has me feeling disgruntled. That blonde has been staking her claim every time I've seen them together.
Realization flickers across Caleb’s face. “Oh. You weren't supposed to think she's my girlfriend.”
“What exactly was I supposed to think?”
He rubs the nape of his neck, looking slightly sheepish. “I let her hang on me when I thought you might be around. We went out once, but I'm not interested in what she's offering.
”
“What the hell, Caleb? Why would you let her hang all over you when I was around?” I ask with confusion and irritation. All this time I'd been torturing myself over some dumb blonde that wasn't even his.
He shoots me a look. “You've got a reputation, Zoey. You don't get close to anyone. I started learning that if I showed too much interest in you, you tended to back off. I figured maybe you'd let me get to know you if you thought I wasn't all that interested in anything serious. And then I fucked up and got drunk, drowning my shit in alcohol, because I had my ex on my mind. I treated you terribly that night and acted like a complete ass,” he says quietly.
“It's done and forgotten,” I assure.
His eyes search mine as if he's trying to reassure himself that I have indeed forgiven him. He nods in acceptance when he sees whatever he's searching for in my gaze.
“Can I ask what happened with your ex?” I ask, because now that he’s brought it up, I’m beyond curious.
Poison Me Sweetly (Long Beach Series Book 1) Page 21