by R. R. Banks
He lets out a long sigh. “You know how fucked up I am, Abby,” he says after a few moments. “I couldn't do that to you. You deserved better than I could ever give you. You still do. Honestly, I feel like I was doing you a favor by not burdening you with my bullshit.”
“And it was up to you to decide what I needed in my life?” I ask.
Caleb didn't answer me. I hate to admit, but sitting here next to him, I'm finding it harder and harder to remain angry at him. This was Caleb – my Caleb – the boy I loved with every last shred of my being. The boy who is the one I measure all others by. The boy who devastated me by vanishing. And yet, here he was. At last.
But I hold on to my anger. It's a righteous fury. One I've earned. One I'm entitled to after what he did. I deserve answers. I demand answers for why he broke my heart and my spirit.
“Like I said, I know I'm an ass,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “What else do you want me to say? I've apologized. I feel bad for hurting you. I really do. But it's the past, Abby. It's ancient history.”
“And I should move on and get over it all. Got it. Thanks,” I say.
I've heard that same line of thinking from so many people over the years and it never failed to infuriate me. Just move on, they'd tell me. As if I can control my emotions that easily. If it were that easy to let go of Caleb, don't you think I would have? It's not like I enjoy being hurt all the time. It's not like I enjoy being an emotional train wreck.
But then Caleb surprises me. “No,” he says, “You have every right to be pissed at me. I just hope maybe we can move past this. And that maybe one day, you can find happiness with somebody. Because you deserve that, Abby.”
Happiness. Huh. What an abstract concept in my screwed-up life. Staring down at my hands, I decide to change the subject.
“How long are you going to be in town?”
“Only as long as I have to be,” he says. “Maybe a few more days, at most.”
My heart aches at the thought of watching him walk away and losing him all over again. But I nod, knowing that there's no way Caleb and I can be together. He's no longer my Caleb and when he leaves, it's not like I'm really losing him all over again – I never had him to begin with.
Caleb leans forward and takes my hand in his, setting my heart racing and making me look up and meet his gaze once more. Everyone else at the bar disappears in that moment. As I stare into his eyes, there is no one else at the Wagon but Caleb and me. And as I stare into those gorgeous, dark eyes, I feel like I'm back in high school all over again. All of those feelings I carried for him – that connection we shared – it all came rushing back with a vengeance. I was awash in feeling. In memory and nostalgia. And it's taking everything in me not to lean forward and kiss him.
“How have you been, Abby?” he asks. “You know I've worried about you. I've thought about you a lot over the years. But I heard you went away to school and then got married. I thought – hoped – you were living the dream and were deliriously happy, so I didn't want to bother you. I didn't want to disrupt your life.”
“You'd never bother me, Caleb,” I say, feeling the tears stinging my eyes. “How have I been? That's a really strange question, but I guess I've been okay. I'm back home, obviously. Back in Sheridan Falls for good, most likely. New York City was just too much for me – especially once my marriage fell apart. I just needed to be somewhere comfortable again. And so, here I am.”
“I'm really sorry it all didn't work out like you'd hoped,” he says.
“I'm not,” I snort. “I wasn't happy there. I fooled myself into thinking I was for a while, but the truth always bubbles to the surface eventually.”
“And now?” he asks. “Now that you're home, are you happy with that douchebag who tried to haul you out of here earlier?”
I laugh, a choking sound that sounds almost like a sob. “We broke up,” I say. “A few days ago. He's not taking it well. I think he's stalking me.”
“I can tell he's not dealing with it well,” he says. “Seriously, if he's stalking you, then you need to let somebody know. You need to nip that shit in the bud right now.”
“Yeah, I will,” I say. “I think he's harmless for the most part. And he wasn't like that before, I swear.”
“Well, all I can say is that I'm glad you're not with him anymore,” he says. “The fact that he was a dick to you is part of it.”
“Only part of it?”
My heart swells in my chest. Don't get your hopes up, Abby, I tell myself. But it's hard not to. But I quash the feelings blooming within me and give myself a swift mental kick. I can't afford to let myself feel for Caleb again. Especially knowing he's leaving town again soon. I need to hold on to that anger. He was the son of a bitch who ghosted me, after all. He doesn't deserve my affection – he deserves a kick in the ass of his own.
Caleb gives me a half-smile. It's a shy smile – almost like he's ashamed to say what he's about to say.
“Part of it's because he's a dick to you,” he says. “And part of it is because maybe – I was a bit jealous too.”
I look down and realize that he's still holding my hand. I look at our fingers that are intertwined and I'm again struck by a wave of nostalgia, recalling all of those feelings from the past. His large hand encompasses mine completely, and he gently strokes my fingers – just like he used to do all those years ago.
“Jealous? Of James?” I feel my cheeks start to flush. “Why on Earth would you be jealous of him?”
“Because he has you,” he says softly. “Or rather, had. Past tense now, thankfully.”
“So, there's still some small part of you that cares for me, huh?”
I find myself smiling – and find it more difficult to hold on to that righteous anger I've been nursing. The idea that he still cares for me, even a little bit, fills me with a thousand different emotions – joy among them.
“Abby, I've always cared for you. I didn't leave because I didn't love you,” he says. “I had to leave because I did love you. And in my own way, I never stopped loving you – which scares the living shit out of me.”
My heart skips a beat – maybe three or four of them – as I process what he just said. He still loves me. After all these years. He still has feelings for me.
We stare at each other for a long moment, and I dream of kissing those soft, luscious lips. But that dream is ripped away when a drunk falls onto our table, spilling his beer all over the front of my shirt. Caleb's bottle goes flying and shatters when it hits the floor. And my lemonade glass meets the same fate.
I stand up, in shock and to prevent the drunk from rolling off the table and onto my lap. Caleb, on the other hand, yanks the man up from the table and into a standing position.
“Fuck, man, I'm sorry,” the drunk says, his speech slurred, his eyes glassy, and a goofy grin on his face. “My bad.”
“It's not me you should be apologizing to,” Caleb says, his face darkening with anger as he turns the man to face me.
“I'm sorry,” the man says. “I didn't mean to.”
“It's okay,” I say, trying my hardest to dab off the beer that has already started soaking into my blouse. “Just be more careful next time.”
Caleb lets the man go, but the moment was ruined. I feel tears in my eyes again as I thought about everything we could have been. But he was leaving town again soon and I know I can't get attached. Not again. I'm not going to set myself up for more heartache. I tighten my grip on that righteous anger within me – and pray that I can keep hold of it until he leaves.
“Let's get out of here,” Caleb said, dropping some cash on the table.
“Where to?” I ask.
“Somewhere we can get you a clean shirt,” he says.
“I can just go home.”
Caleb shakes his head. “I'm only in town for a few more days,” he says. “I'm not letting you walk away that easily. I think we have a lot to talk about still.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Because I need a new shirt, we go back to
my place. I'm nervous as hell when I open the door to my home because here I was letting Caleb back into my life. The man who destroyed me all those years ago.
But we're older, wiser, things are different now. We've grown, matured, and moved past things. Or so I tell myself.
Besides, I can't let him go that easily either. I want to catch up and hear about his life. I want to get to know the man that he's become over the years. He's obviously grown-up, a lot. And so have I. And most of all, I want to know why he thought running away to join the Marines was a good substitute for the life we'd been planning together.
“Nice place,” he says, looking around as we step inside.
“Thanks.”
I hang my coat in the closet and think of James – half-expecting to feel him pressing himself against me from behind. Being free of that routine is so freeing, and I can't help but smile. Not just because I was free, but because Caleb was here with me too. It's like a missing piece in the puzzle of my life has finally been snapped into place.
Turning to Caleb, I ask, “Would you like something to drink? A glass of wine? A beer maybe?”
“Nah, I'm good,” he says. “But thank you.”
Suddenly, I realize how close he's standing to me. He's staring down at me and I look up, realizing that this is my Caleb. I just want to reach out and touch him, to make sure he's real. I want to kiss him, to feel him kissing me. But I take a step away and resist the urge.
“Do you remember our senior year?” he asks. “That Homecoming when we –”
I finish his sentence for him. “When we skipped the dance and sat by the river instead? My dad was so pissed at us.”
When I mention my father, I can see Caleb tense up very visibly. His face grows darker – a little more somber. I see a genuine anger in his eyes. I have no idea why he'd have such a reaction. But then the moment passes – and just like a cloud passing by the face of the sun, Caleb's face brightens a bit again.
“Yeah, I remember you were grounded for a month,” he says. “All because Jessica told her mom, who told your dad and, well, the rest is history.”
“She's such a bitch,” I say, rolling my eyes, but laughing just the same. “Speaking of Jessica though – did you really go home with her the night I saw you on the street?”
He looks away and I see color flaring in his cheeks. It's confirmation of what I already suspected.
“Seriously?” I ask. “You slept with Jessica?”
He gives me a small shrug. “Just kind of happened.”
“Yeah, just kind of happened,” I say. “Right.”
Sometimes, looking back on the past made things sting less. Like Jessica's betrayal. Not that night, but the first time Caleb and I went out. It was almost like she was trying to break us up from the start. She was always going to my parents and snitching on us.
“It's not like we had sex or anything,” I say, thinking back to that night by the river. “I tried to tell him, but my dad wouldn't believe me.”
Caleb and I never slept together in the traditional sense back then – even though we both wanted to. I was a virgin, scared and unsure of myself and the whole idea of sex. And he wasn't about to pressure me into doing something I wasn't ready to do. And so, it never happened. We never consummated our relationship.
It's a fact I regret every single day. And for a long while, part of me wondered if perhaps that wasn't the reason he left – because I didn't sleep with him. It sounds crazy as I think about it now, but back then, it seemed like a very legitimate question.
“Why did you look so pissed off when I mentioned my dad?” I asked.
It was a curious reaction from him and it made me curious. And since we were working on being honest with one another, I thought it was a fair question.
Caleb sighs and scratches at his thick beard. “Your dad hated me, Abby,” I say. “He said he knew my type inside and out. Said I'd amount to nothing and would lead a sad life anyway. He said I'd do nothing more than bring you down and ruin your life. He told me that you deserved more. Better than I could ever give you. Said I wasn't good for his little girl. He was probably right.”
I reach out and grab him by his shirt. “No, he wasn't,” I say. “My dad didn't know you. He knew your family, but he didn't know you.”
I can't believe what I'm hearing and it makes me feel sick to my stomach. I cannot believe my own father had done that. For so long, I thought it was something I'd done or said that had driven Caleb away. Come to find out, it was my own father. I'm in shock and can't believe it. But in a way, it makes a lot of sense.
“Maybe, I dunno,” Caleb says, running a hand over his head, much like he used to do when he had hair. “I thought you'd be better off. Honestly, he was just saying things I already thought about myself anyway. He was just confirming my own feelings. I did believe you deserved better than I could ever give you. Still believe that.”
“And you were wrong,” I say softly.
“Was I though?” he asks. “Who knows what could have happened.”
“Exactly, who knows? But I do know one thing – my life isn't all that great anyway, and I can't see how you'd have made it worse.”
Caleb looks around. “Seems like you're doing pretty well for yourself, Abby.”
I sigh. “Career-wise, sure,” I say. “But happiness-wise? Relationship-wise? My life is a mess. A total and complete disaster.”
“I'm sorry,” he says, placing his hand softly upon my cheek.
I lean into his touch and close my eyes. We still haven't left my foyer and I don't know why.
“We should go have a seat –” I start to say, but Caleb cuts me off with a kiss.
When his mouth touches mine, I feel a surge of electricity tear through me. And then I feel like I'm floating. His soft lips feel the same as I remember them. And when his tongue pushes past my lips and into my mouth, it's like he literally takes my breath away. I feel like my knees might go out on me, but Caleb is there, holding me up with his strong arms as he kisses me deeply for the first time in twelve years.
When he pulls back, he smiles. “You have no idea how badly I've wanted to do that,” he says.
I'm a stammering fool with wide eyes and weak knees, but I manage to say, “The feeling is mutual, Caleb.”
He leans down and kisses me again, this time a softer, more lingering kiss as he presses me against the wall. My hands move over his chest, feeling his firm muscles beneath his shirt. He filled out nicely in the Marines, and I am dying to see the tight, toned body beneath his clothes. It's killing me – the yearning – but I know I have to be careful. Having some fun with him is one thing. Having a one-night stand is another. But I can't let myself fall for him again.
He kisses down the length of my neck as I work at the buttons on his dress shirt one-by-one, my fingers stumbling as I struggle to undo them. My hands are shaking. But then, I realize that my whole body is, actually. I'm nervous as hell and I know that this is a bad idea. Nothing good is going to come of sleeping with Caleb. And yet, I can't seem to stop myself.
Caleb presses himself against me, and I feel his erection through his pants pressing against my midsection. He's most definitely hard and ready to go. I slide my hand down and rub him through his pants. Even though we never had sex back in the day, we still did some things. And for some reason, his cock feels larger than I remember it being. So large, so hard, and so ready to go.
His shirt finally falls to the floor once I remove the last button. After that, I move down to his pants. But Caleb grabs my hands, pulling them away. I stare into his sultry eyes.
“We shouldn't do this,” he says, whispering the words I'm hearing echoing around all too clearly in my own head.
“No, we shouldn't,” I say, biting my lip. “But I want you, Caleb. I want you so badly, I don't know if I can wait any longer –”
He kisses me long and hard again, holding my face in his hands. When he pulls away this time, he smiles at me.
“And I want you, Abby. Go
d, I want you – but seriously, this is a dangerous game. I'm leaving in a few days, and I don't want to hurt you anymore than I already have.”
“I appreciate that,” I say, nodding my head.
Deep down, I know he's right. We shouldn't do this. But damn it, I've been dying for some closure or some answers – or something – for so many years. And now, here we are – finally able to be together. Maybe for the last time, but at least I'd know what it's like to make love to him. That's something, right?
“I appreciate your concern for me,” I say. “But I'm a grown woman, and I can handle it, Caleb. I've already been through so much and survived, whatever happens between us will be okay. Just give me this night, please? I think you owe me at least that.”
His eyes soften as he stares at me. My hands move down the length of his chest, sliding down to his belt again. As I unbuckle his belt, my hands graze his hard cock and his breath catches in his throat. I give him a salacious little smile. I kiss his chest, the tattoos that cover it, licking the scars along his collarbone. I'm sure there's a story there, one I'd love to hear one day, but for now, I'm content just kissing and exploring that amazing body – that body I never had a chance to experience all those years ago.
“Please just fuck me, Caleb. Please?” I beg. “Don't worry about anything but right now. This moment.”
“I'm afraid –”
“You? Afraid?” I laugh. “You don't seem like the type to be afraid of anything.”
“I'm not. Except when it comes to certain things. Feelings and women tops among them,” he says.
“I promise, I don't expect anything from you after this,” I say.
“That's not what I'm afraid of,” he says.
“Then what is it?”
But he doesn't answer. Instead, he lifts me up off my feet and I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me, kissing me and holding me firmly against his body. He carries me out of the kitchen and out into the living room – and for a moment, I expect him to carry me into the bedroom. Which would be fine, but part of me yearns for something different. Something wild. And Caleb is just the man to give me what I want, I know it.