by Ruskin, JD
Stacy’s eyes dared him to contradict her. He hadn’t told her about buying the scotch, but she didn’t need the details to spot the pattern. Before AA, she’d spent years carving the design into her own skin with every lie, every evasion, every excuse.
“I haven’t gone back to drinking,” Logan said, half-expecting a neon “YET” to appear above his head. He knew he could tell her about the booze and she’d offer him support and understanding. But he wanted the focus on Caleb and not himself.
“If alcohol was our only problem, then the detox centers would be turning out winners all the time.”
Logan winced. “He needs me to keep my shit together and I want to be there for him. I can’t remember the last time I felt that. It’s enough to keep me sober for now.”
“What happens after you help him? What are you hoping for with this, Logan?”
Logan delayed answering for a moment, drinking his lukewarm coffee before reaching up to scratch his forehead. Stacy’s soup had appeared at some point, but the murky contents remained untouched. He leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. “I care about what happens to him and hate the idea of him being locked away in that apartment of his.” A prisoner of his fears. It sounded like the tagline to a cheesy Lifetime TV movie, but it was true. His instincts told him he didn’t know what Caleb was really afraid of, and he needed to understand in order to help the man.
“Is that all you want? For him to get the help he needs?” Stacy pushed a stray hair behind her ear. “For both your sakes, you need to be honest with yourself about what you want.”
Logan sighed. “He smiles at me and it’s all I can do not to tear his clothes off, but it’s more than that. I think we could have something more.”
“Well, if he won’t answer the phone, you could always send him a letter, but—” She looked at her sculpted nails. “You need to consider whether being in a relationship with Caleb, given the struggles he’s going through, is the best decision for you, considering you’re still in the early stages of recovering.”
Logan slumped in his chair. He wanted Caleb. Plain and simple. For the first time in his life, he had a reason to get his shit together beyond keeping his ass out of prison. At the very least, he knew he couldn’t walk away without knowing Caleb would be okay. But Stacy was right. He needed to think about whether he could handle getting everything he wanted.
LOGAN eyed his boss as he drifted through the warehouse, looking distracted and exhausted. He hadn’t spoken to Klass since Klass had pried him away from his nephew. He couldn’t help wondering how much influence Klass had on Caleb’s decision. Shopping online for groceries wasn’t the same as having Min hand-select items for him. Hell, Meng’s would probably be willing to deliver the groceries for a lot less money than Caleb had been paying to have Logan deliver them.
He’d spent the last week doing what Stacy told him to do, thinking about what he wanted. He hadn’t had much choice. Michael refused to give him any more details about what he’d found out about Foster, claiming he couldn’t talk about an ongoing investigation, which was Michael code for “I’m going to protect you whether you like it or not.” Logan would have argued with him if he hadn’t been so damn grateful for the help. Swallowing his pride was a hell of a lot easier when it meant potentially protecting Caleb from that bitch.
Logan entered Klass’s office without knocking. “I get why you wouldn’t be thrilled with someone with my background… uh… dating your nephew, but I don’t want more from Caleb than he’s willing to give. I’d be lucky to have him as a friend.”
Klass seemed almost as though he had been waiting for Logan. “I won’t pretend to be thrilled about my nephew… dating someone with a violent and criminal past. But he trusts you and he doesn’t trust easily.”
“Then why make me break my promise to help him get to the hospital?”
“The doctors had him so doped up he could barely remember his own name let alone notice you weren’t there.”
“That’s not the point and you know it.” Logan took a breath, trying to calm down. Pissing off his boss wouldn’t get him any closer to Caleb. He needed a new approach if he wanted to get Klass on his side. “Did Caleb tell you that we’ve been going out?”
Klass’s jaw dropped. “Out of the apartment?”
Logan nodded. “He made it all the way to Meng’s Market without panicking.”
“He never said anything,” Klass said, his body sagging like a blown tire on the freeway.
Logan wasn’t surprised. “You have me ask him those questions about how he’s doing, but you don’t ever ask me what he said. How come you don’t want to know the answers?”
His eyes focused on the far wall, Klass said, “Caleb thinks he killed his mother. It’s the reason he stopped going out.”
Logan frowned, confused by the change in topic. “I thought she had a bad heart.”
“She did. I invited them over to celebrate her fiftieth birthday. I knew Caleb was pushing to make a deadline at work, but I expected him to rearrange his life to accommodate her, like he always had. Sarah had suggested we wait until the weekend, but I didn’t listen….”
Klass began to speak as if he were the only person in the room, his description so vivid Logan felt as if he were actually there.
Harrison had joined Sarah on the couch, handing her a mug of peppermint tea. She had unclasped her hands and accepted the beverage.
“Thank you, Harry,” she said, falling back on the childhood nickname he had always despised. Her eyes drifted to the mantel clock that had been their grandfather’s pride and joy. “Did Caleb call and say he’d be late?”
The urge to lie crept in as it always did when faced with her growing unease, but he suppressed it. She would see right through the attempt and become all the more fearful because of it. “I’m sure he’s just stuck in traffic.”
Her eyes widened, and he noticed new lines on her face, making her look closer to his own sixty years than fifty. “What if he was in an accident?”
The door buzzer saved Harrison from answering. He leaped from the couch and made his way down the hallway and opened the door far enough to berate his nephew. “Your mother has spent the last twenty minutes convinced you were dead in a fiery crash.”
“I’m sorry. The meeting ran late and I still needed to go home and get the cake.”
“Harry, is it Caleb?”
“Yes, Mom.” He moved past Harrison and made his way into the living room to greet his mother.
“Looking back on that night, I can remember how thin Caleb looked, how ragged. I can see the dark circles under his eyes that looked like bruises and the fine sheen of sweat across his brow. I can remember all those things, but I can’t remember acknowledging them back then. He was crumbling before me. Why wasn’t I able to see it?”
Caleb stumbled to his feet, knocking the dining room chair to the floor. “I’m sorry, I have to….” He swayed, and Harrison rose and gripped his forearm. Leaning in close to his nephew’s ear he whispered, “Get a hold of yourself, boy, before you send your mother into a panic.”
Panic. Caleb moved as if his body had been waiting for the word to be voiced. He tripped over the chair, tumbling to the ground. In the next moment, he was across the room with his back pressed against the wall and his hand clutching his chest.
“Oh, God. His heart, Harry.” Sarah rose from her seat and made to go to Caleb.
“Shhh, his heart is fine.” Harrison wrapped his arms around her shoulders and ushered her into the living room. “The doctors said it’s just a case of nerves,” he said, encouraging her to sit on the couch.
When he tried to stand, she grabbed the front of his shirt. Her voice sounded high and thin, on the verge of hysteria. “The doctors can be wrong.”
She was a walking testament to how wrong they could be. The doctors had said it would be a miracle if she lived to her first birthday. It was why he insisted on celebrating every birthday for the miracle it was. He pried her fingers from
his shirt and squeezed them gently. “They’re not wrong about this. He’s just having a bit of trouble adjusting to the new job. I’ll help him find a new one.”
“Harry, I don’t feel so good,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest. She slumped forward, and Harrison barely caught her before she hit the hardwood floor. He gathered her small body in his arms and laid her on the couch. “Sarah, Sarah, open your eyes.” He lightly tapped her cheek and then moved to take her pulse. Fast. Much too fast. “Caleb, you’ve driven your mother into a heart attack. Now get in here and help me with her!”
Sarah touched his face. “Don’t say that, Harry.”
Harrison shook his head. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Tell… him.”
Caleb ran into the living room clutching a cordless phone. When he spoke, it sounded like he had been gargling glass. “Ambulance is on the way.” He turned his attention to his uncle. “Did you give her the medication?”
Harrison stared at him. “No, I….” He couldn’t even say the words. How could he forget?
Caleb left and returned with the bottle of pills and a glass of water.
“Are you okay, honey?” Sarah asked.
Caleb nodded. “Now I need you to take your pills.”
“Love you,” she murmured before closing her eyes. They would never open again.
“I blamed Caleb for his mother’s death because I didn’t want to deal with my own guilt.”
Logan looked at his feet, not sure how to respond to Klass’s story. A part of him wanted to rail at his boss for riding Caleb so hard only to turn around and blame him for his mother’s heart attack when he crashed. It wasn’t right, and he didn’t intend to pretend it was, in spite of how broken Klass looked. Focusing on the present, he asked, “Did you tell Caleb not to return my calls?”
Klass shook his head. “My sister was plagued by fears, but never for herself. Caleb is the same way. More than anything, he’s afraid of becoming a burden to those he loves and of them being hurt because he can’t control his fears. If he’s refusing to talk to you, that’s likely the reason.” Klass’s jaw twitched as if holding the raw emotion in place. “I tried to do what was right, but now I know I’ve failed them both. I found a behavioral therapist who makes house calls, but I haven’t been able to convince Caleb to see him. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
“Tell me about the courier service you hired for Caleb.”
Chapter 7
LOGAN felt conspicuous hovering outside of Caleb’s apartment building like a creepy stalker. His thoughts drifted back to his boss as he waited. The past week had obviously strained Klass. Frankly, Logan thought the man should feel guilty for his part in this mess. But he was glad Klass cared enough about Caleb to go along with the plan, seemingly desperate to find a way to reach his nephew.
Logan had debated just following the courier up and shoving his way into the apartment when Caleb opened the door. It was what he wanted to do, but Stacy’s words kept ringing in his head. He couldn’t force Caleb to see him; it needed to be his choice. He didn’t know what he would do if Caleb chose to ignore him.
When the courier approached, Logan stepped in front of him. “I need to add something to that envelope.”
The balding little man frowned at Logan before moving around him. “I’m afraid I can’t help you. Tampering with the mail is a federal offense.”
The guy let out a squeak when Logan grabbed his arm. “Hold on a minute.” Logan saw the guy reach into his pocket. Probably to take hold of his phone or a can of dog mace. He sighed, releasing the man’s arm. “I need to add a note to the mailer before you deliver it. The guy who set up the service called into your office, but you had already left. You can call him and he’ll tell you.
“You mean Mr. Klass? My instructions do say to call him if I have problems making the delivery.” The man sounded thrilled to have a possible solution that didn’t involve being squished by an angry giant.
Logan made a “get on with it” gesture. The courier pulled out his phone to make a call. He stepped back so Logan couldn’t see what number he dialed. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was to the police instead of Klass, but it was a risk he was willing to take. Dabb will rip me a new one if I get arrested.
The man spoke too quietly for Logan to hear on the busy street before closing the phone. He handed over the package without a word. Logan unraveled the string holding the envelope closed and slipped in the note he’d written.
CALEB took the package from a twitchy courier and secured the door. Even though typing made his wrist ache, he was happy for the distraction work brought him. He had been miserable since he had gotten back from the hospital. And itchy. He had been digging through his desk in search of an envelope opener to find some relief from the constant urge to scratch under the cast when the mail came. He had spent all last week taking sponge baths in the kitchen, not being able to deal with stepping into the tight confines of the shower stall. His uncle had been the one to replace the curtain, fluttering around the bathroom looking as uncomfortable as Caleb felt.
This morning, Caleb had had enough, not able to stand the smell of himself anymore. Navigating the shower with the cast wrapped in a garbage bag hadn’t been pleasant. He had nearly lost it when he had had to use duct tape to keep the bag closed. In spite of his efforts to keep it dry, the cast had the musty smell of wet plaster, but he felt marginally clean. Emptying the contents of the package on his kitchen counter, he found a postcard of Wrigley Field on top of the contract he had been expecting. Confused, he flipped it over and noticed that someone had written on the back of it.
When he read the words “Don’t freak out,” he had to close his eyes. He took a quick breath, fighting the sick surge of panic spreading outward from his stomach. He had been both dreading and hoping to hear from Logan with equal fervor. He had turned off the phone, not able to deal with the uncertainty of Logan’s reaction. I sobbed in his lap like a child. He didn’t want Logan to see him as broken and pathetic.
I don’t have to read it, his reptilian brain reasoned. He could just toss the card away and forget all about it. But God help him, he didn’t want to forget Logan. He opened his eyes and read the next instruction: “Don’t assume I don’t know what you’re going through.” He felt his nerves flutter and his stomach began to twist and turn, shooting slivers of ice through his arms and legs. He hated the feeling so much. He took another steadying breath and read the last instruction: “Open the door.” He walked over to the door and leaned his forehead against the wood. Maybe we can just be friends. Logan was a good guy, so it shouldn’t surprise Caleb that he had followed up on the accident. He wasn’t the type of man to walk away without knowing Caleb was okay. It was one of the reasons Caleb felt so drawn to him. Sighing, he unlocked the door and opened it.
Logan was across the hall, leaning against Mrs. Simon’s door. The sight shattered any illusions Caleb had of being around Logan and not wanting him. He was dressed in jeans, and wearing a coffee-colored T-shirt, which showed off the muscles of his chest and stomach. It was hard to tear his eyes away from him. Caleb cleared his throat and said, “Do you want to come inside?”
“Are you okay with—,” Logan said, but he ended up flat on his back before he could finish.
Mrs. Simon leaned over him and said, “What on earth are you doing down there, sonny?”
“Ow,” Logan said, rubbing the back of his head. “Somebody cut down my beanstalk.”
Caleb exchanged a few quick words with Mrs. Simon, reassuring her that he was recovering as he extended his unbroken arm to Logan. Logan accepted the hand up, not letting go until they sat on the leather couch in Caleb’s apartment. Logan had gone to a lot of trouble to see Caleb, but he seemed at a loss for something to say now that he was here. Caleb saved them from the awkward silence by saying, “I’ve missed you, but I think you’re better off walking right back out.” He looked away. “You deserve better than what I can give you.”
Whe
n Logan didn’t respond right away, Caleb looked back and sucked in a breath. Logan stared at him with an intense gaze filled with too many emotions for him to interpret. Every muscle in Caleb’s body tensed, making his wrist twinge unpleasantly.
“That’s some self-esteem you got there, if you think I’m such a freaking prize.”
“You are.” He smiled wanly. “I felt almost normal around you and not a candidate for a jacket with extra-long sleeves.”
Logan put an arm around Caleb’s shoulders and relaxed back against the couch. Caleb shivered, and worked hard to remind himself not to be afraid. He trusted Logan, but having Logan witness his panic attack had shaken him. Logan tightened his arm around Caleb’s shoulder, and Caleb felt his dark eyes watching him, warming the side of his face. He had felt a connection to Logan from the moment they had met, but they were not only united by their screwed-upness; they got along well together, and they were easy with one another in a way that Caleb hadn’t experienced with anyone else. He could admit to himself how much he wanted Logan, but that didn’t mean he should act on those feelings.
“You need to understand that I might never get better. I might never leave this apartment again.” Caleb’s wrist twitched under the cast, as if to remind him he would have to figure out a way to take off the cast in six weeks. I could order a hack saw. He closed his eyes tight at the images suddenly racing through his mind.
He heard the deep tone of Logan’s voice over the roar of his own blood in his ears. “I’m not going to give you no ultimatums because I know how useless they are. The state forced me to attend rehab sessions, but they couldn’t make me accept their help. Only I could do that.” He brushed a strand of hair off Caleb’s forehead. “But I won’t apologize for getting you the help you needed.”
Caleb grabbed Logan’s hand. “I needed help and I’m glad you were there to give it to me.” He rubbed his thumb across Logan’s knuckles. “I was just too afraid at the time to see it.”