“I’ll tell you anything you want. I’m an open book where you’re concerned, because I won’t hide anything from you.” He runs a hand through his hair, and I get the impression he’s not thrilled with the change of topic but he’s going to go with it. “Cara and I were high school sweethearts,” he tells me. “Up until this past summer, we’d been together for five years. I caught her cheating with my best friend and we broke up.” He shrugs. “I didn’t feel like running into them constantly, because our town isn’t all that big, so I decided to transfer for a while. I’ve never been out of Tennessee, so the idea of doing something new was quite appealing. I found out that she’s pregnant with his kid the night I got drunk.”
I search his gaze intently, and there’s not much there to see. I see a hint of regret, and of course some bitterness, but other than that, he doesn’t seem too torn up over the matter. “Five years is a long time. I’m sorry,” I say cautiously.
Caleb shakes his head, his eyes trained on mine. “I’ve learned something in the past few weeks. You want to know what I’ve figured out?”
“Um, what?”
“I wasn’t in love with her anymore. I don’t know if I was ever really in love with her. I think we just got used to being together and stuck it out. Because a lot of the feelings I have for you, I definitely haven’t felt towards her in a long, long time,” he says bluntly.
And just like that, we’re back to our earlier conversation. I’m having such a hard time believing that he cares about me.
“It sunk in just how much I like you the night I got drunk. I don’t even think it was her I was upset about, I think it bothered me more that they moved on so easily with me out of the picture. Carter was my best friend, it still stings that he hooked up with her behind my back, and I think I’m more upset over our relationship, than mine with her.” He looks a bit guilty as he says, “I'm not going to lie. Before that, I was just hoping for good sex with you. But the more I got to know you, the more I started seeing you. All I've wanted to do is be there for you. I know you're in a bad place right now. I completely get that. But I want to be there with you when things are good and when things are bad. I want you to let me in so we can see if maybe, just maybe, you and I could have something good together. Something real.”
I am once again reverting back to staring. He's offering me the one thing that I've been aching for, but at the same time, I'm scared. Scared to put my faith in him, only to have him break my heart in the end. I have a tendency to ruin everything before it can ever really begin.
“Good sex doesn’t necessarily make us compatible outside of the bedroom,” I feel the need to point out.
Caleb sighs and moves closer to me, his hands reaching out to grasp mine. His fingers tangle with my own, and I have no urge to pull back. “The sex is off the charts,” he agrees. “But I see so much more than that within you. You're generous, and you are giving, especially with Micaela. You are so good with that girl, and she's starting to really look up to you. I also like the fact that you speak up for yourself and don't take shit from anyone. I’ve also noticed you're completely loyal to your friends. You'll never admit it, but you've got the biggest heart, Sparky.” He gives me a roguish smile. “It also helps that you're sexy as hell. I have a mental list of all the things I want to do to you if I can get you back in bed again.”
“How long is this list?” I ask instantly. I don't care how serious or scary this conversation is. When a man like Caleb tells you he has a list of things in his head that he wants to do with your body, you perk up and listen.
His wide smile speaks volumes. “Long. It's a dirty list, I tell you. Very naughty.”
Yep, my panties are now wet. I try to push the idea of sex with Caleb out of my head, because that's not all that he wants, and I'm not sure if I can give him more than that. I tug on my hands, trying to pull them from him, and his hands tighten on mine briefly before he reluctantly lets me go. I immediately scoot back slightly, putting several inches between us as I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Don't shut me out. Please, Zoey,” Caleb pleads with grim eyes.
I look at him, and I see that he's expecting me to reject him. And I really should. I'm not relationship material. “I need time to think. There's so much that's been said today, Caleb. I'm feeling really overwhelmed.”
He nods. “Understandable. I don't need an answer today anyway. I just want you to think it over and consider what we could have. When you're ready, call me or text me. Anytime, okay?”
I nod and slowly rise to my feet. When Caleb doesn't stand up, I look at him questioningly. “Aren't you coming?”
“Nah. I'm going to stay here for a while. I can call someone to pick me up later,” he says with an easy smile.
“Okay. See you later,” I murmur a bit awkwardly.
“Later, Sparky.”
I don't even remember the drive back to my apartment. One minute I'm on the beach, and the next I am tossing my keys on the kitchen counter. I walk to the couch and flop down on it, my mind a chaotic mess of scrambled thoughts. I'm not sure which bombshell to deal with first. The disorder or Caleb admitting he has feelings for me?
Caleb wins.
I stare up at the ceiling and sigh loudly. I don't even know what he's asking of me. I'd been too shocked at the time to ask for further details. It's obvious he wants some type of relationship, but does that mean he'd consider us exclusive? Would we be dating—like boyfriend and girlfriend? I know he wants sex. He definitely wants sex. But is he just thinking along the lines of a casual relationship, and we'll just see where it takes us?
A groan escapes me as I fling an arm over my eyes. I don't even understand what a relationship means. I've only been in one, and I'd been seventeen at the time. Does that even count?
All I know is relationships usually mean commitment and expectations. The idea of accepting him in my life as a boyfriend causes anxiety to swell in my gut. What if I get used to him being in my life and he breaks up with me, because he can't handle my personality? I've always been strong-minded. I'm fully aware of the fact that I am not the easiest person to get along with.
I know there's something wrong with me. Probably this PTSD Caleb mentioned. That has something to do with my current actions and most recent meltdowns. But that doesn't mean it'll all just go away now that I have an idea of what's causing some of these issues I seem to be having.
Some of it is just plain me.
What if he's disappointed six months from now because not much has changed?
Hell, I don't even know what the treatment is for people dealing with PTSD. As soon as I realize this, I jump up from the couch and go to my room. I get comfortable on the bed and begin to do some research on my laptop. I spend over an hour reading up on the disorder that Caleb has brought to my attention.
Dang.
He's right.
All the symptoms I can relate to. Or at least the majority of them. The flashbacks in the form of nightmares, the frightening thoughts I sometimes have—especially my anxiety over my mental state, and the thoughts I sometimes have of my own death. I find myself staring for a long time at the computer screen.
Strong sense of guilt? Check.
Losing interest in activities that one once enjoyed? Check.
Feeling tense and on edge? Check.
Difficulty sleeping? Check.
Angry outbursts? Check.
My hand reaches out and slams the laptop closed. I press my palms to my closed eyes as I process it all. PTSD can be caused by many things, and a traumatic or life threatening event is one reason for the disorder to develop. So is the loss of a loved one.
Double freakin' check.
I draw in a slow, deep breath. I don't know why I feel such sudden anxiety right now. I'm finally realizing what is wrong with me, but it doesn't make it any better. I know I need to be diagnosed by a doctor to confirm the disorder, but I'm already one-hundred percent positive I'm suffering from it.
Then there ar
e the treatments the websites suggested. It's generally different types of counseling and therapies or medications. Or both.
“Fuck,” I breathe as I drop onto my back. It's just too much at once. I feel overwhelmed and slightly resentful towards Caleb for dumping this on me four days before the anniversary of Micah's death. Dread seeps into my veins as I think about Friday. Maybe next year I'll be in a better place. But this year I'll spend it doing exactly what I did last year.
Chapter Seventeen
As I think things over, I find that Caleb is respecting my need for space. I see him a few times on campus on Tuesday, but it's always in passing, and all he does is wave. Ace, Jeremy, and AJ are oblivious to my inner turmoil. None of them have any idea that on Friday, I will be in my own personal version of Hell.
I tried to get through the first anniversary sober, and it had royally backfired. Last year, I got good and drunk, hiding away from the entire world. The liquor had helped, and eventually I'd passed out. The hangover the following morning had been a real bitch to suffer through, but the downside of drinking had been worth it.
Next year will be different, I tell myself. I'll look into this PTSD stuff once Micah's anniversary is past. I'll see a doctor and get it confirmed. I'll even try their treatments. Yeah, I'm less than thrilled with the treatment plans the websites suggested. I hate talking about Micah, and I don't want to take some stupid medication that's supposedly going to help with my mental issues and depression. Let's face it. No one likes admitting they've got mental shit going on.
I'm one of them.
To actually have it on file, to have prescribed medications... It becomes a reality. It's scary, because I have to make a choice. Deny or accept. One or the other. Admit I have a problem or sit back and do nothing while it destroys me.
Exactly.
No matter which way I look at it, I feel like I'm about to paddle up shit creek, whether I have a damn paddle or not.
~*~
I can't breathe.
It's dark, and the air is stale. The space I am in is confined, and I pound against the hard, smooth surface above my head. Panic builds within me as I fight and kick, but the confining walls won't release me.
That's when I hear the voice.
I go still as I hear the pastor's sermon, and I recognize it, because I've heard it before. Horror sweeps through me as I realize I'm in Micah's coffin, and I hear dirt being shoveled on top of the closed casket.
I begin to scream.
I wake up with a jolt.
With a soft gasp, I sit straight up in bed, proving to myself that I am no longer in the casket. My heart thunders in my chest, and I can feel my skin slick with sweat. The sound of my ragged breathing is the only sound in the silence of my darkened bedroom.
With fumbling hands, I lean over and switch on the lamp next to the bed. I squint at the sudden light, and as my eyes adjust, the nightmare slowly begins to fade. Relief sweeps through me as I realize the nightmare isn't going to drag me back down into its morbid, horrific clutches.
I'm now left with a numb feeling, and a chill sweeps over my skin. After licking my dry lips, I slowly ease myself back down onto the bed and pull the sheets up to my shoulders. The light from the lamp is a slight comfort, and I leave it on as I stare up at the ceiling.
One more day to go.
I just need to get through tomorrow, deal with Friday, and then the worst will be over. Then, I'll push forward with this PTSD stuff. As for Caleb, I have no clue what to do. I already feel way too much for him, and if I allow him into my life further, he'll have the power to break me.
I'm already broken, and I'm just beginning to work my way up to mending the parts of me that are splintered. I don't think I can come back from another broken heart. I'm not strong enough to go through it a second time.
~*~
I'm about two seconds away from dropping the liquor that Lonnie had picked up for me tonight. I'm just coming home from my evening shift at Grendel's, and my damn key won't go in the fucking lock. It keeps catching on something.
“Hold up. Let me,” I hear Ace say and I look up. He's sauntering down the hall in my direction, and I'm guessing he just stepped off the elevator. He reaches me, plucks my keys out of my hand and inserts the key easily. My door pops open and Ace holds it for me, motioning for me to step inside.
I quickly walk into the darkened apartment and set the two bags down gently on the counter top. Ace flips on the kitchen light before shutting my apartment door, and when he turns, I flash him a smile. “Thanks.”
“What's all that?” he asks as he walks over to the paper bags to peer inside. His eyebrows rise when he sees the liquor. “Throwing a party?”
Yeah, a party for one. “I was thinking about it. Maybe Saturday or something. Depends on if I'm still in the mood,” I say lightly as I kick off my shoes.
“Where's my hug?”
“Seriously?” I ask as I shoot him a look
He gives me a lazy grin. “You can give it willingly, or I'll simply take it.”
“You're such a tool,” I mutter as I walk over and give him a brief hug. Of course, he doesn't let me go, he tightens his hold on me and spanks my ass playfully. “Stop sexually harassing me all the time,” I grumble as I squirm out of his arms and step back a safe distance.
“Ah, you love it.”
“Whatever,” I say as I walk over to the refrigerator. “You're turning into a total pussy with this hugging shit. I don't need that crap, you know.” It makes me damn uncomfortable when they pull this hugging stuff on me when we're not in the middle of bullshitting one another. I can handle a hug once in a while, but they’ve been really pushing my limit lately. I think they’re being overly affectionate simply to aggravate me and make me squirm. They’ve found a new way to entertain themselves, and unfortunately, making me uncomfortable is high up on their list right now.
“We know. But it's fun now that we can get away with it.”
“Want one?” I ask as I hold up a can of soda.
“Nah, I'm good. Where have you been lately? I've barely seen you around this week.” Ace says as he begins to pull the liquor bottles out of the bags.
“I've been doing the usual, working and going to class. I have some exams coming up.” I pull the tab on my soda and take a sip.
Ace grimaces. “Yeah, I got one tomorrow. You too?”
“Yeah.” I inwardly wince. I never miss exams, but tomorrow I will be. It can't be helped.
“We should get out of town one weekend. Go somewhere fun. I'm kind of getting bored with the same old shit around here,” Ace says as he folds up the paper bags and sets them near the trash bin by the door.
I look at him with surprise and snicker. “Gone through the entire Long Beach female population already, eh? Gotta find some new ass?”
“Ass wasn't exactly on my mind when I suggested it. I was thinking it'd be fun to just road trip with the group or something for a weekend.”
I nod, a flicker of interest developing within me. “I'm game. If you leave Jake and Dillon out,” I add.
“Done,” he says easily.
My lips twitch. Jake and Dillon were left out a lot, thanks to me. Ace will always choose me over them. Do I feel bad about that? Nah. They're annoying little pervs. I walk towards the living room and plop down on the couch, looking back at Ace. “So, is AJ still dating that one girl?”
Ace walks over and sits down. “Yeah. Looks like maybe he's found a keeper.”
“Hm. Not surprising. He's never been a player.” I give him a playful look. “So what would it take for you to consider someone a keeper?”
“Never happening,” he says dismissively.
“Yeah, right. Sooner or later there's going to be a woman that will come along, and one time won't be enough for you.”
He shrugs. “So I'll screw her another time before I send her on her way.”
“But what if a couple screws isn't enough?” I press.
He gives me a questioning look. “Wha
t does it matter?”
“I guess it doesn't.” I reach for my soda, taking a sip as I think of Caleb. One night of sex definitely hadn't been enough for either of us. What would it take to get our attraction out of our systems? Would Caleb eventually get bored with me if I gave this whole relationship thing a try?
“Why do I get the feeling there's more to your question than you're letting on?” Ace asks me as he studies me.
“I'm just curious, that's all. You and I are a lot alike. We don't do commitment. I was just wondering what would make you hesitate...like what would make you have doubts about walking away from a woman. I guess it was a dumb question,” I mutter.
Ace rubs his jaw thoughtfully. “I guess the only thing that would make me want to keep coming back to the same woman would be if I trusted her,” he says slowly. He looks uncomfortable and clears his throat before his expression turns wicked. “And of course, she'd have to be completely submissive and let me do whatever the fuck I want with her. The way it should be.”
I shake my head and snort. “You need someone who's going to stand up to you and all your shit.”
“Now what would be the fun in that?”
“Someday, you're going to find someone that you don't want to control. You're going to come across a woman that you find fascinating enough that you won't want to dominate her, because she'll be enough for you as she is.”
“Have you found yours?” Ace asks me bluntly.
I stiffen up before I can hide my reaction to his question. “No,” I lie.
~*~
It's Friday.
My stomach cramps a bit painfully as I climb out of bed. I guess I'm not too surprised since my stomach had been tied in knots when I'd gone to bed last night. I don't bother taking a shower or even trying to fix my messy hair. No one's going to see me today anyway. I opt to leave on my black tank and gray shorts, and I walk to the kitchen to grab a couple bottles of liquor. It'll be bourbon for breakfast today. I have two bottles in my hand, and I'm about to leave the kitchen when I see him.
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