by K. Ryan
When I dared another glance out the window, I found Caleb winding around to finish a lap around the front yard. A beat later, his ocean-blue gaze flicked up to meet mine and his mouth curved up into a smile that breathed understanding, devotion, and the unconditional love I'd always seen in him. Then my hands closed around my phone and I swiped across my screen to read the text:
Just let me know when you're ready to let me in. I'll be out here. Love you.
My eyes landed on that old shoebox and the pile of notebooks sitting just a few feet away from my bed and I blew out a deep breath before finally murmuring the only real response I could give, the same one that sparked so much fear and need in me at the same time:
"Okay."
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Finally
Isabelle
For the rest of the day, I had a tiny bit of peace, mainly because Caleb kept his distance and stayed outside. He must've decided it was a good day to get all the yard work done in one shot because he only came in the house twice—once to use the bathroom and once to wash his hands after pulling some weeds in the landscaping. Unfortunately, it was dinner time now and my dad was already halfway out the door to invite him inside for dinner.
And then a terrible thing happened.
I literally ran upstairs and shut my bedroom door behind me. I scampered around, digging through a few piles of clothes until I found something a little more acceptable than yoga pants and a ratty T-shirt. Once I'd settled on a pair of snug skinny jeans, an over-sized, slightly transparent white shirt tucked into the front of my jeans, and a long pendant necklace, I kept right on going and headed for the bathroom. It wasn't to hide. It wasn't even to use the bathroom. No. I had much bigger problems now. Because now, I stood in front of my mirror with a tube of Diorshow mascara in one hand and a can of hairspray in the other.
I was sick. And pathetic. And in denial.
But I got to work anyway because this mess needed a lot of fixing.
I spritzed on a tiny bit of perfume just for good measure, happily feigning ignorance at the real reasons why I was even doing this in the first place, and went back down the stairs. At least now I felt a little more like myself with all the necessary armor and masks in place to hide everything I couldn't lay bare.
Caleb was already leaning against the island on his elbows, laughing at something my dad said, and my breath hitched in my throat at the sight of the two of them standing there like that so easily. I took a few hesitant steps inside the kitchen and even though his back was almost completely turned to me, Caleb seemed to be hyper-aware of my presence. His head immediately turned to me and his lips spread into a wide, welcoming smile that warmed me a little too much.
"Hey, Iz. Dinner smells pretty good," he called out easily, his lips curling in a self-satisfied smirk as his eyes trailed up and down. "You look nice."
I narrowed my eyes at him, ignored that last comment, and carefully stepped around the island to pat my dog on the head and to check on the lasagna I'd put in there about an hour ago. But when I set the dish on top of the stove to cool for a while, Caleb's eyebrows shot up into his forehead when he got a good look at the pan of oozing cheese and meat sauce.
"Holy shit," he exhaled and licked his lips. "You made that? Really?"
"No," I rolled my eyes. "I have Rachel Ray on speed dial."
Caleb smirked at me and then leaned forward to sniff the air. "Nice work, Iz. Maybe there's hope for you yet."
"You wanna give it a taste test?" I shot back. "Maybe I poisoned it."
"You wouldn't do that."
"Try it and find out."
"Okay," he sunk a little deeper into the counter, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Where'd you get the poison?"
"From the poison store," I could feel my lips curling in annoyance. "Where else would I get it?"
Caleb just grinned as my dad chuckled on the other side of him. "Alright. Maybe I just think you like me too much to poison me."
My eyebrows lifted in defiance and the best I could come up with was: "Don't you have something better to do than piss me off?"
He shook his head and lifted a shoulder. "Nope. Can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be."
"What about the shop? You've kinda got your hands full for awhile."
"Well," Caleb smiled at me. "Saul's got everything under control while I'm here. And thanks to you, I've still got some money coming in to keep my staff and pay some bills. So I figure this is as good a time as any to take a little time off and help you guys out here."
My dad nodded in agreement and my eyes practically shot fire at him. He blinked back at me for a second, realized his error, that he was supposed to be on my side, and held his hands up in defense.
"Sorry," my dad winced a little at my withering expression. "I can't help how entertaining you two are. I'm serious. This is way better than anything on the History channel."
I lifted my eyes to the ceiling and shook my head. Then I shot my glare right where it belonged.
"You know, I'm really starting to regret ever helping you."
He didn't miss a beat. "No, you're not."
I glanced around the island at Cooper, who happily sat in between us on the floor with his tail wagging.
"Coop," I pointed at Caleb. "Sic 'em."
Cooper's eyes shifted to Caleb, then back to me, then back to Caleb again. Finally, he took his sweet time getting up to his feet and trotted the short distance over to Caleb, who shot me a cocky grin as he ruffled Cooper's dark fur.
"Hey, buddy," Caleb murmured to my dog.
"Traitor," I muttered under my breath as I put a Texas-sized portion of lasagna on a plate for my dad.
He took the plate from me as he eyed the portion skeptically. There was no way he'd ever be able to finish that much food, not with all the meds he was on now, but I wanted to treat him like he was sick as little as humanly possible.
"I think Cooper just knows he's not a threat," my dad told me with a sly grin. "He's smart like that."
"Sure," I huffed and glared daggers at my dog, the same one who wasn't even paying attention to me because he was too busy enjoying Caleb's ministrations.
I really shouldn't have been surprised when Caleb praised my lasagna like nobody's business or when he insisted on helping with the dishes or when he plopped down on the couch next to my dad to watch the Vikings marathon on the History channel or when my dad was ready to head upstairs for bed, he didn't hesitate to grip my dad's arm to help him off the couch.
And when my dad started his slow, awkward shuffle up the stairs, he didn't put up his usual fight. Instead, he actually let both Caleb and me to take an arm and help him up the stairs without so much as a protest. We got him up to his door and I kissed his cheek, he waved goodnight, and then Caleb and I were standing there alone in the hallway.
He smiled at me a little shyly and shoved his hands deep into his front pockets, a gesture I'd seen a million times, but for whatever reason, this time my heart tugged a little more than I remembered.
"I take it you're planning on crashing here tonight?"
He rocked back on his heels and the grin on his face just widened. "Yep."
"Alright," I sighed. What was the point in arguing? "Just sleep on the couch, okay?"
The guest bedroom was right next to mine and I just didn't want to go there tonight. Exhaustion, frustration, and just about everything in between had sucked what little energy I had left and I didn't want to waste it fighting with him.
Caleb nodded tightly, the smile slipping down just a little, but it still never left his face. One of his hands unearthed from his pocket and he reached out to tuck some hair behind my ear.
"Okay," he whispered. "Night, Iz."
I blew out a deep breath. "Night, Caleb."
And when I shut my bedroom door behind me, my eyes flew right to that shoebox of letters and piles of notebooks. I just couldn't help it.
. . .
For the next week, this was pretty much how it went: Cal
eb did some odd jobs around the house, whether it was cleaning up my dad's office, sorting through the garage, emptying the dishwasher, doing a few loads of laundry, or taking care of the lawn, and I spent the days with my dad. We managed two walks, one dinner at his favorite restaurant in town, which Caleb dutifully drove us to and waited in the parking lot while we ate, and the rest of the time we looked at photo albums, watched a few old home movies, and at night, Caleb would join us for dinner and some TV.
There was a little whispering between the two of them about the Horsemen's retaliation against the Warlords. Apparently, they'd hijacked one of the Warlords' 'shipments' en route and redirected it to one of their warehouses. From the little I heard, Caleb fully expected this move to backfire, and I supposed I did too given the way things were headed, but that was all I heard of it.
For the most part, we all just tried to pretend like everything was normal.
It wasn't. He was getting ready to die. I knew it. Caleb knew it. Cooper knew it. Now it was just a matter of when.
When I woke up this morning, I could feel it. Something was about to change. Like turning the last page in a good book or turning left instead of right—sometimes the simplest changes are the hardest ones to accept. It was in the air, crackling with electricity and a little bit of hope. The weight of whatever waited for me today was so heavy I almost couldn't drag myself out of bed. And then I heard my dad shuffle into the bathroom, close the door behind him, and a loud thud about three seconds later.
As the sounds of Cooper's clipped, anxious barking bounced off the walls, I shot out of bed, practically tripping over the covers I was moving so fast, and sprinted toward the bathroom, throwing the door open as soon as my hands found the knob. My dad was sprawled out face-down on the floor with his right leg twitching a little as he struggled to sit upright.
"Dad!"
I crouched down by him as he grumbled out a moan. He tried to push himself up with his palms, but slumped back down to the floor just as quickly. Caleb appeared in the doorway a moment later and he scrambled around to the other side of my dad, gripping him by the shoulders to turn him over.
"It's alright," my dad batted a hand at us.
"Dad—"
He never gave me a chance to finish. "I just slipped a little and lost my balance. It's not a big deal."
"Maybe we should—" I tried again, but he vehemently shook his head.
"I'm not going to the ER again," he told me tightly.
My desperate eyes found Caleb and I silently pleaded to him for some backup. Just a little reassurance, a little support, and he nodded sadly. Both of us knew it wouldn't really make much difference, but I had to try and I needed Caleb to have my back. Besides, my dad might actually listen to him.
"Maybe it's a good idea just to go in and see your normal doctor, Sam," Caleb told him in a calm, even voice I barely recognized. "We could wait a little bit and see if you're—"
"It's not worth it," my dad cut in and shot Caleb a hard glare. "And just so you know, I expected better from you."
Caleb just blew out a deep breath and shook his head. "Come on, let's get you up, okay?"
At least my dad agreed to that and he nodded numbly as Caleb gripped him around the shoulders to heave him up to his feet. Once Caleb had him up high enough, I ducked underneath my dad's shoulder to help carry some of his weight. The three of us shuffled out of the bathroom and into the hallway, just long enough for my dad to get his bearings back and shrug away from us.
"I'm good," he waved us off, even as Caleb refused to loosen his grip. "I'm just gonna go sit out on the porch for awhile and get some air."
Caleb's expression mirrored mine and we both gaped back at my dad like he'd just said he wanted to run a marathon today. I'd expected him to want to lay down for awhile, but then again, nothing about this morning was normal.
"Hey Isabelle," my dad turned back to face us at the top of the stairs. "Why don't you come out and sit with me when you're ready."
When you're ready.
We watched, helpless and shit out of luck, as my dad ambled down the stairs, only slipping once and catching himself just as quickly with Cooper right on his heels. I didn't know which was worse: knowing how much effort he needed just to take the stairs inch by inch or knowing that in a few days or maybe even a few weeks if I was lucky, I wouldn't be able to watch it anymore.
My shoulders started heaving and then it was all downhill from there. I could feel those tell-tale signs pricking up and down my body—clammy palms, thundering heart, and a tightening throat. The fact that it had taken this long was probably a miracle in itself.
A fresh wave of tears worked their way down my cheeks, but Caleb's thumbs caught them before they got very far.
"It's okay, Iz," he murmured. "I got you."
I squeezed my eyes shut, searching for some of the strength I needed to get through today and whatever it held. I found it in him the moment my cheek rested on his shoulder. His hand worked its way through my hair and then my hands reached out until my fingers gripped the front of his T-shirt to pull him in. My lips sought him out, needing to feel him against me, needing to feel the love, understanding, and devotion that he'd never backed down from showing me. I just needed him.
Our lips collided, our first real kiss since our fight over a week ago, and moved together with a practiced familiarity and an intimacy I hadn't realized how much I'd missed.
Finally, we both seemed to remember where we were and I quickly pulled away from him, laughing a little as I awkwardly tugged my hair back into place. The problem was that I didn't really know where we went from here. Now that I was on the edge of something, I just didn't know which way to turn.
Right now, what I needed was just a little bit of space. A little more time.
His hands closed over my shoulders, warming me and making me just want to sink into him again, but I stepped away to put some space between us.
"I think I should, um, maybe take a shower and get some coffee going," I rubbed my palms anxiously on the front of my sleep shorts. "Do you want any?"
Thankfully, Caleb always seemed to know exactly when to push and when to pull. He ran a hand over the top of his head and shot me a quick smile.
"Don't worry about it, Iz. I'm gonna work on the ATV most of the day, so I'll just grab a cup on my way out to the garage."
His thumb brushed away one last stray tear before his lips curled up again as he headed back down the stairs. I swallowed heavily and finally resigned myself to the mercy of this day.
. . .
I handed my dad a cup of steaming coffee as I sank down into the chair next to him on our porch. He slid it out of my hand with slightly trembling fingertips and shot me a weak smile. Cooper lifted his head out of my dad's lap and went back to guard dog duty as soon as I settled into the chair.
"Nice morning," he murmured and squinted up at the clear, brilliant blue sky.
"Yeah, it is."
My eyes fell on Cooper, who hadn't moved from his post, and I felt my heart sink a little deeper into the pit of my stomach. It was coming. I could feel it in this warm, breezy North Carolina air, floating and tightening around me like a vice.
"We're getting to the end," he told me quietly. "I can feel myself heading for that finish line and I don't think it'll be long now. I'm ready to be with your mom again."
My breath hitched in my throat and tears stung my eyes. I couldn't do this. I couldn't sit here and have this conversation, not when he was acting so nonchalant about dying. But I also knew I wasn't going anywhere either.
I swallowed hard and managed to find my voice. "Are you scared?"
He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I used to be. Mostly, I was scared of leaving you and I still am. But now, I don't know. I think you'll be okay," he shifted his eyes to the garage, where Caleb had the ATV all but torn apart in an effort to put it back together again, "I'm not happy about all the things I'm gonna miss though. Watching you become filthy rich and famous, ho
lding my grandchildren and watching them grow, watching you be a mother—you're gonna be a great one, you know that?"
Because I couldn't find the words, my lips just lifted into a pained smile.
"You've got so much of your mom in you. When she died, I couldn't stand that about you. I hate myself for that. I should've held you closer just because of that and I shut you out instead."
"Dad—"
"No, just listen," his voice was firm with resolve now and I didn't argue any further. "Everything that was good in your mom, her kindness, her compassion, her light, her ability to love unconditionally—that's in you, too. I'm so damn proud of you, Isabelle. Everything I ever wanted for you, everything I ever hoped for you, you've realized all of it in a way I never could've imagined."
I sucked in a harsh breath and my eyes flitted shut. "Dad..."
He smiled at me again and it still didn't reach his eyes. "I have so many regrets, sweetheart, but most of all I wish I'd been able to be there for you after your mom died and I wish I'd cherished the time I had with your mom while I had it...I can't even explain it to you. One minute you're 20 and have the whole world at your feet and the next, you're 55 and you've got nothing to show for it. I spent too many years wallowing at the bottom of a bottle when I should've been trying to figure out how to find some happiness again."
His words hung in the air, heavy with all the ways he could've found a second act in life, but chose to remain buried in his grief instead.
"Life is fleeting, Isabelle," my dad told me, looking me square in the eye. "You can't waste the little time you have being miserable, especially not when the key to your happiness is sitting right in the garage."
All the air left my lungs. My body felt heavy and frozen to the chair. I still sat there even when my dad stood up on shaky legs and leaned down to kiss my cheek.