He takes a deep breath, continuing. “A few months went by, and she was sick . . . so sick, throwing up morning, noon, and night. And I tried to help as much as I could, cleaning up the house so she could take a nap, making whatever she could stomach for dinner, but it was rough on her. We went in for a sonogram, supposedly to learn the sex of the baby. I remember being so damn excited. I had balloons in the trunk of the car, both It’s a Girl! and It’s a Boy! so I was ready either way. And I sat there in that fucking office, holding her hand as the doctor told us. The baby had stopped growing. There wasn’t a heartbeat. I didn’t need a fucking balloon. I was devastated, and I tried to hug her. She was stone-cold, no expression. I thought she was just too stunned, or she was being strong or something. She talked to the doctor about ‘what next’ and shit like that. I don’t even know because all I could think about was that we’d lost our baby. The doctor excused himself to give us a few moments to grieve, and she let out a big sigh . . . of relief.”
Wait, relief? Did I just hear him correctly? I still don’t dare utter a word, but if I heard right . . . my heart starts breaking for Caleb, whom I can imagine putting himself through hell in order to take care of this woman. He’d have worked fourteen hours a day and come home to take care of her for another six if he had to. And she was . . . relieved.
“She wasn’t overwhelmed like I was. She was just relieved. I tried to talk to her. I honestly don’t remember what I said, but she got mad and loud. She started yelling at me, and I don’t think she meant to say it, but she did. She yelled, ‘It wasn’t even your baby!’ I’m not sure what hurt more, the fact that it wasn’t mine or that she was already talking in the past tense. I drove her home, packed a bag, and never looked back. I called her dad, saying I was leaving, and he said he understood. He, at least, had integrity, and he even sent me two weeks’ severance pay. I found out later that Wendy had been going behind my back the whole time I was busting my ass for her.”
I swallow, tears forming in my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. Instead, I stroke his hair, letting him know I’m here for him. Caleb clears his throat, his voice a little raspy as he purges himself of the last bit. “So I decided. The whole family with a picket fence thing is a lie. I thought I had my dream right in my hands and it imploded. Since then, no commitments. No getting tied down. I haven’t told many people that story, and until I met you, I thought I could just keep cruising down the road of life, not worrying about it. Now . . . now I’m scared, because we’re becoming something I never thought I’d be part of again. But yeah, been there, done that, got the Fuck You t-shirt.”
Unsure of what to say, I say, “Caleb—” But before I can utter another word, he stops me.
“You asked. That’s the story. I don’t want to talk about it anymore or ever again.”
I don’t want to cause him any further pain, and I know how much it had to hurt to dredge all of that back up and pour his heart out to me. Quietly, I agree. “Okay.”
With that, he takes a big inhale, settling down to sleep. There’s nothing more to say, so I choke back my tears until I hear him start to snore lightly. Finally, I let them fall from my eyes, hoping the feeling of them striking his cheek and face doesn’t wake him.
Chapter 23
Caleb
I wake up like I always do, just before sunrise, to find myself in familiar yet unfamiliar surroundings. I have that foggy-headed moment of confusion . . .What’s going on? Where am I? But as my brain clears enough, I realize I’m in bed with Cassie. Sigh. After the way she let me unburden myself last night, I couldn’t just run out the door, even though I wanted to get away from the pity I’m sure she was hiding in her eyes. But if I’m honest, I slept better than I have in years. We snuggled for most of the night, but sometime this morning, we disentangled ourselves. I ease myself out of bed.
I’ve got a message on my phone, and after reading it, I decide to wake her up with the way I know best. Well, second-best, as the best would lead to sex, and I don’t have the time for that right now.
“Good morning, sleepyhead. What’s on your agenda for today?”
Cassie rolls over, sleepily brought up by the scent of coffee as I hold the cup out to her. She stretches like a cat, pushing her bare tits up at me for a moment, then grins and reaches for the cup. Tempting, oh, so tempting, watching her succulent body as the sheets pool around her waist. She’s a woman a man could easily lose himself in.
“What time is it?” she asks before sipping the coffee suspiciously. Her eyes open wide at the first sip, and she blinks in surprise. “Wow . . . this is good!”
“I helped out at Mindy’s Place for a week when she was out on maternity leave. She taught me a few secrets. And it’s just after seven o’clock. Sadly, as delicious as you look right now, I’ve gotta get going. Ms. Steele sent me an urgent text message this morning, saying she’s got an alarm going off and could I be the best handyman in the world and swing by and take a look? She probably just needs a battery, but I want to be sure. Knowing her, she probably took the battery out herself to have an excuse to check on me.”
Cassie sips her coffee, looking at me in just my jeans, and smirks. “She probably just wants to check you out.”
I laugh. “Nah, I think she wants to adopt me.”
Cassie grins. “I need to head into the office too. I’ll text you to see what’s up later?’
“Deal. Make sure you get the paint colors to me as soon as you can. I’ve got some work to do for Oliver, but I figure I can get the texturing done within the next few days. I’ll be ready to paint by this weekend.” I tilt my head, putting on a fake affect and rolling my eyes. “It’ll be so hard to cover up your hard work on the tape job, but it must be done, fair maiden. And with that, I bid you adieu.”
Laughingly, I lean down to give her a kiss, and she squeals something about her breath, but I cover her lips with mine anyway for a goodbye kiss. Cassie smiles and gives me a little wave as I walk out of the bedroom, pausing at the door to turn back, giving myself a final glance of her as she sips at her coffee and looks at me with naughty, twinkling eyes. “Oh, hey, Cass . . . you need to do something about that coffee breath!”
I hear her laughter as I close the door behind me, and after grabbing my spare t-shirt out of the back of my truck, I drive back into town. As I drive, humming along to my music, I feel lighter, more energetic than I normally am at seven fifteen in the morning. Unfortunately, I have to skip going by Mindy’s Place to get my morning sludge, but other than missing her insight on things, I’m not worried. I can stop by later, I guess, and grab something before taking care of Oli’s stuff.
At Ms. Steele’s, the beep of the alarm can be heard even outside, and she opens the door with the bright blue rubber of ear plugs visible in her ears. “Hi, Ms. Steele!”
She waves me inside, yelling at the top of her lungs. “Sorry I had to call you so early this morning, but I didn’t know what else to do. I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything. I just couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on, and I can’t even open the windows to let the sound out. The Tillersons across the street would call the cops if I did!”
“It’s no big deal, I’m glad you called me,” I reply, popping my own earbuds from my music player into my ears just to cut down the sound. I’ve got some heavy-duty ear protection in the truck, but I don’t think it’ll be necessary.
“Come on in and see what you can do about this racket because I’m about to take a shotgun to the damn thing. It’s that newfangled one you installed a couple of months ago.”
I step inside and see what she means. After Oliver had a gas leak at one of his properties, he had me purchase and install detectors at all of his rental units in town and one at his mother’s house, too, just to be sure. I use a chair to climb up to the alarm, unscrewing the cover and removing the battery. The silence is beautiful until Ms. Steele lets out a loud whoop of celebration, extra-loud because she still can’t tell how loud she is through the ear plugs. I pop a new battery
in and the light shows green, problem solved. “Bring that chair on back into the kitchen. Breakfast is just about ready.”
I smile, shaking my head, knowing she’d pull something like that. I love the woman and her breakfasts. They’re the second-best in town. Only Mindy can lay claim to better cooking, and she’s got a kitchen full of professionals to depend on. Sitting down in the chair, I drape a napkin over one leg and take a moment to look at the perfectly cooked cheese, bacon, and veggie omelet in front of me. “Ms. Steele, call me to fix something anytime if you’re gonna feed me like this.”
I tuck in, savoring the delicious flavors. More than just throwing a bunch of good stuff in the eggs, she knows how to balance all of them so that the saltiness of the bacon and cheese doesn’t overpower the veggies, and the eggs are a fluffy cloud that supports it all. I’m not a chef, but I can appreciate good cooking.
She looks on in fond approval, then gets her own plate. “Well, I’m happy to have boys to cook for. Oli is so busy with work and Mindy and the kids, and with Tony gone off to Hawaii, I don’t get to cook for appreciative folks much anymore.”
There are a few moments of silence as I eat, and then she speaks up. “I talked to Tony last weekend. He said that he and Hannah are loving the island life, something about an addition, which I thought was his way of saying they’re expecting, but apparently, he meant an actual addition to the resort. He was disappointed I wasn’t more excited about some cottages, but really . . . compared to a grandbaby? Psh. I told him you and Cassie were working on a house project together.”
I groan. I haven’t told Tony about 614 Douglas for a reason. He’s my best friend, but he can be a bit rough sometimes. “Oh, man, what’d he say to that?”
Ms. Steele smirks. She knows how we get along. “I think his exact words were that it’s going to be explosive—either the house or y’all—and he’d lay fifty-fifty odds either way. Apparently, y’all have a tendency to needle each other?”
Fair enough. “Yeah, you could say that. Meeting under competitive circumstances probably didn’t do either of us any favors, because we spent most of the first week we knew each other giving each other shit and teasing each other mercilessly. But we’re good. We work together well and still tease each other more than is probably normal, but whatever. It’s us.”
Ms. Steele is looking at me with a shrewd look in her eyes. “Tell me about her. I don’t know her other than in passing when I go into Oli’s office. Mindy mentions her every now and then, but there’s a difference between that and working together. Tell me more.”
I pause for a moment, then start in, saying a little more than I intended to at first. “Well, she’s a pain in the ass, always getting under my skin, but she makes me laugh a lot. We can just hang out and do nothing, but somehow, we always end up laughing our asses off, usually at something we said. She’s just light, always smiling, and she makes people around her happy. And that’s not easy. She had a bit of a rough upbringing—nothing major, but things that would’ve made a lesser person bitter or plain mean. She just lifts her chin and smiles at the world, daring it to go for another round.”
Ms. Steele nods, sipping at her coffee. “She’s a pretty girl. She always seems put-together when I go into the office. And in talking with Martha, she says that Cassie’s always bringing a sense of humor to her work, too. Something about Deadpool, but I haven’t seen the movie. Just the sort of girl that people like, though. I always wondered if she was seeing someone.”
I swallow, not liking the thought of her seeing someone. “Yeah, she’s gorgeous. Inside and out. But nah, she’s not really seeing anyone. I don’t think. Well, maybe kinda . . . but not really.”
Ms. Steele laughs, half choking on her eggs. “I think that was the most non-answer answer I’ve ever heard. Caleb, are you and Cassie dating?”
I’m sure I’m turning a pretty violent shade of pink. I don’t really know how to answer this one. “Uhm, no, not dating. Not exactly.”
“Then what exactly . . . more than dating or less than dating?” Ms. Steele asks.
I shift uncomfortably, not sure how to explain the concept of fuck buddies to her. I mean, I know she’s not totally innocent, but Ms. Steele’s always struck me as the kind who sort of settled down and did things the old-fashioned way. She leaves me to squirm, then gives me a supportive smile.
“Caleb, if y’all are just having casual sex, it’d be fine. Despite what I can see you think of me, I had my own wild and crazy days. I’m old enough to be your mother, not your great-grandmother. I know what a hook-up is. But young people who are having casual sex don’t talk about each other the way you just did about Cassie. I have a feeling you need to wake up and smell the coffee a little bit, young man.”
I stammer, totally shocked by her words. They hit right at home. “Uhm, I don’t know what to say. We’re friends, and yeah, uh . . . we’re a little extra-friendly sometimes, but yeah.”
Ms. Steele waits for me to trail off, scratching at the back of my head before offering another question. “How often do you see each other? Do y’all do other things than be . . . extra-friendly?”
“Well, we see each other a lot right now because we’re fixing up her house, so maybe four to five times a week. Oh, and we jog together and have pancakes on the weekends, usually Sundays, but recently, Saturday.”
“Caleb, in my book, that’s dating, probably neck-deep in a relationship, and you don’t even know it. You get along, and you—ahem—get along. Sounds like a done deal to me. Congratulations.” She finishes with a smirk as if she’d just solved all the world’s problems. She waits for me to reply, then clears her throat. “Caleb, you know that Oliver’s father and I are divorced, of course.”
“Yes, Ms. Steele.”
“Well, maybe Tony or Oliver has said what caused it, perhaps not. But regardless of what the boys think, the reality is that my marriage was over long before. We stopped doing those things together. We’d eat at different times, we’d do different things. We lived totally separate lives, apart from sharing a bedroom and occasionally being a little extra-friendly. So it probably was just a matter of time before things went the way they did. What I’m saying is that relationships can start mysteriously and end mysteriously. But to an outside observer, it’s not that mysterious at all. Seeing the way you react when you talk about Cassie . . . you’re looking good, boy. Scared, but good.”
I’m spinning and scared shitless. Fuck, she’s right. We’ve said all along that we’d just be friends with benefits, but somewhere along the way, maybe even before we started having sex, I think, it got more serious. I haven’t been with anyone else since we started working on her house weeks ago, haven’t even thought about it because Cassie was all I needed. I wake up looking forward to the day, telling myself each time that it’s because I enjoy the project out at 614 Douglas. But that’s a lie. I’ve been looking forward to the time spent working with Cassie. I’ve been looking forward to spending my time with her. Even the nights when I’ve gone over there exhausted, I feel good because I’ve been doing things for her.
What the fuck am I gonna do now? I don’t want the whole relationship thing. I obviously suck at them, if history is a good example. I can’t give my heart to someone again just to have it stomped on.
Chapter 24
Caleb
I’ve spent the last few days working like a madman, sunup to well past sundown. The only breaks I’ve taken have been to force myself to the gym for intense but abbreviated heavy workouts, throwing weights up and letting them slam to the ground in a misguided attempt to let off some steam. I’m trying to keep my mind busy, and it at least serves as a temporary distraction. I’m not sure what is going on in my head, and I’m not sure I’m ready to face it either, so I’m just gonna avoid that train wreck and work myself to death.
Cassie’s called me twice this week, trying to get together, and I’ve told her that I needed to get some stuff done on her house because materials are being delivered and I have t
o be ready, plus, I have another job that needs some attention too. She offered to come help, but I was a bit of a shit and said I could do it faster alone. The obvious truth is that I just need some space because I’m freaking the fuck out. It makes me feel like a total asshole, not being honest that I need a moment to get my damn head right. I mean, I know her history. She’s probably thinking I’m just like those assholes who ran out on her mom. I swear I’m not, but I just need to think!
So here I’ve been, working myself to the bone, not going home until ten or later every night. The results are clear, though. The house looks fantastic, if I do say so myself. The texture dried quickly in the summer heat, and while it set, I was able to do the floors. Cassie ordered a rich deep chocolate brown stain for the floors, which went on beautifully before I applied a sealing coat of poly.
I questioned her on her idea for wood floors in the bedrooms, but she said people would put down rugs by the beds for toasty morning toes. Those were her exact words, “toasty morning toes,” and at the time, I laughed at her. But I miss her silly ways of saying things.
Fuck, man. Stop it . . . focus. That wasn’t the deal, remember?
Today, I’m painting the upstairs bedrooms and supervising the crew I hired to come fix the porch. While I probably could have done the job myself, it needs to meet codes for listing, and the amount of wood and the lengths involved were a lot for me to handle on my own. With the need to bed the posts in concrete foundations, it was easier to outsource the job, and it gets this project closer to the finish line. Besides, I know these guys and I know they will do the job right.
I work through the entire morning, and in mid-afternoon, I stop to eat lunch, double-checking my work as I inhale my third peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The dove grey color looks as great as Cassie predicted, giving a softness and warmth to the rooms the bare white didn’t have. She teased me about the paint too, saying she was gonna go hit up John at Home Depot to see what he recommended because she was certain he’d have some interesting ideas in that orange apron of his.
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