by Blair, E. K.
“I’m so sorry.” His words crack beneath his apology, and when he looks at me, I see how broken up he is. “I don’t know what happened.” His hands cup my cheeks and there isn’t a single urge to push him away. Instead, I slip my hands around his wrists when he drops his forehead to mine. “I can’t believe I did that, but I promise you”—he pulls back to face me straight on—“it will never happen again. I swear to you.” His forehead comes back to mine. “I hate myself for what I did.”
“Don’t say that.”
“My emotions overpowered me when I felt like you were judging me.”
“I wasn’t judging you at all,” I try to assure him.
He then takes my hand and leads me over to the sofa where we sit. His brows furrow as if he’s in the middle of some internal struggle.
“What is it?”
He takes my hands in his, lifts his sorrowful eyes to mine, and finally gives me what I’ve been waiting for when he confesses, “I love you.”
A breath of elation escapes me, and I smile.
“I’ve been in love with you for a while, I was just scared to tell you because I have a hard time trusting people. Trusting women.”
Happiness falls from my lips but remains in my heart. “Why?”
With a slight shake of his head, he says, “Growing up here, my name meant something—it still does, and people know it. Especially the people I went to school with. There was a girl I dated for two years. I fell hard for her, and I believed her completely when she told me she loved me. The night of our graduation, I overheard her telling a friend of hers that she was basically only tolerating me because she wanted the life of a Bradford.”
“She used you,” I murmur.
“She then went on to tell her the things I had only ever opened up to her about, mocking me and laughing behind my back.”
I squeeze his hands, and my heart breaks more for this man. “I’m so sorry.”
“Being used by people who want a taste of my life isn’t anything new. It’s one of the reasons I moved. But then I met you.” He strokes his fingers through my hair lovingly. “You’re so far from pretentious that I couldn’t help myself from falling in love with you.”
He says the words again, and I swear they cause my heart to swell in my chest.
“I was excited to bring you here. I felt safe to show you where I came from because I knew you wouldn’t get swept away by the money—you aren’t that type of girl.” He chuckles under his breath. “You’re a hard one to impress.”
I gaze around the room, telling him, “This impresses me.” And then my focus comes back to him. “You impress me.”
“I thought you were ready to run when you wanted to bail on my family tonight,” he tells me. “I thought that when you saw the home I grew up in and . . . everything else that it was too much for you and that you didn’t want to be with someone like me.”
“That wasn’t it at all.”
“I got scared because I let myself fall for you, and I thought I was going to lose you.”
“Caleb, no,” I assure as I move in closer. “Does all the extravagance make me a little uncomfortable? Yes, but I would never let that deter my feelings for you. I love you,” I reveal before adding, “This morning just . . . it scared me. I didn’t know what to do.” I lift my fingers and drag them along the broken flesh on his cheekbone. Tears flood my eyes, and my voice slips when I say it again, “I didn’t know what to do.”
He takes my face in his hands and kisses me with so much love that I feel like I might burst. It erases all my anger and fear from earlier and replaces it with warmth that I want to curl against and keep forever. I know that when I look back on this night, I won’t remember our fight because this, this right here makes up for all of that.
“I never meant to hurt you, I need you to believe me when I tell you that,” he breathes against my lips.
“I know.” There isn’t a single part of me that doesn’t believe him. For Caleb to be this torn up and vulnerable . . . how could anyone question his remorse? There’s a pain inside him, a torment I can feel, that’s begging for me to reach out and heal it. A torment no one has been able to get to, but I will. “I forgive you,” I tell him, and he breathes a heavy sigh of relief when he gathers me into his arms.
His embrace is fierce, and I hug him back. When his lips press softly against the bruise on my shoulder, I begin to cry, but not for me—it’s for him. He’s wounded in a way I never knew, but now I do, and I won’t let one bad night tear me away from him.
KATE
“How are you settling in to your new place?” my dad asks as he passes me a dinner roll.
“Everything is good. I mean . . . it’s weird living on my own, and it’s been a little lonely.”
My mom stabs her fork into her salad a few times, saying, “I’m sure it won’t feel too lonely once Caleb gets back to town, plus classes are about to start back up.”
“Yeah. It’s been really quiet this summer.”
Caleb was supposed to come back to Miami with me, but he decided to stay in Chicago with his parents for a little longer. It’s been just over two weeks since I came home, and the time without him has been lonely, and I can’t wait to see him when he flies back tonight. I miss him.
“Tell us,” my mom says as we sit around the dining table and eat dinner. “When do we get to meet this boy?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you have a picture of him?” my little sister asks with hearts in her eyes, curious as to how cute he is.
With a roll of my eyes, I toss her my cell phone, and she’s quick to drop her fork and open my photo album. My mother leans in as they scroll through a few of the pics I took while I was in Chicago. I shake my head as the two of them gush.
“Let me see that,” my father says, snatching the phone from them. He swipes through a few photos before glancing up at me. “You told him I carry a gun, right?”
“Dad.”
He hands the phone back to me. “He better be treating you right.”
“He is,” I assure. “He comes from a good family too.” I say it more out of reflex than the need to tell the truth. Sure, Rose is a lovely person, but nothing could convince me that she isn’t a victim herself or ignorant to how Caleb’s father treats him.
My dad gives an approving nod, so I let it go and turn to my sister. “What’s up with you and Zach?”
Audrina glances at Dad, and he raises his fork with a piece of steak dangling off the prongs as he points it in her direction. “That boy is bad news.”
“You’re so annoying.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she exclaims before my dad can respond.
“It isn’t nothing.”
I look between the three of them. “Will someone just tell me?”
“Be nice,” my mother murmurs, resting her hand over my dad’s.
“The kid can’t tell time.”
“It wasn’t his fault, Dad.”
“Boys that age have nothing but bad intentions,” he tells her, and I shove a piece of steak into my mouth to keep from laughing.
He used to say the same thing to me when I was still living at home.
“Why do you just assume that every guy is a pervert?”
“Because they are.”
“Honey, stop,” my mom gently chastises.
“Kate, do you want to know what he did?” Audrina huffs. “He showed up to the party I was at in his patrol car! He was still in uniform when he walked right in and escorted me out like I was a criminal. He did it in front of everyone. It was humiliating!”
Dad smiles proudly. “I’d do it again.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“He did the same thing to me junior year.”
Dad grumbles. “I don’t even want to remember that night.”
“How did I not hear about this?” she questions, and Dad goes on to tell her, “I showed up to a house party your sister was at and she couldn’t even walk out because
she was so drunk.”
My sister looks at me in shock and then turns to our parents. “Are you serious? Why are you coming down on me so hard then? I wasn’t even drinking.”
“You got off easy compared to your sister.”
“I was grounded for three weeks,” I tell her. “But even worse, I woke up the next morning with my first hangover, and he made me go outside in the blistering heat and, not only wash but also wax both cars. I can’t count how many times I barfed in the shrubs.”
“Kate,” my mother snaps in disgust. “I’m trying to eat my dinner.”
“Blame Dad.”
“I’m not raising delinquents here.” It’s his only explanation, and my sister and I roll our eyes.
After we finish dinner, I help my mom clear the table and load the dishwasher before rushing out to get back to Miami.
Anxious to see Caleb, I busy myself around my new apartment. He texted me a little while ago to tell me his plane had landed and that he was headed my way. When he knocks and I answer, I give him a big hug before helping him drag his luggage inside.
“What’s this?” I ask when he sets a bag from Magnolia Bakery in front of me.
“Dessert.”
I smile, excited to see what he brought me back from Chicago. While I was there, I fell in love with this bakery. Their confections are out of this world, and when I open the pastry box and find a half dozen truffle cupcakes, I immediately dip my finger into the ganache and lick it off.
“Oh my god.” I moan, rolling my head back in chocolate ecstasy.
“If only you made those noises for me,” he teases before planting a kiss along my neck.
I carry the pastry box into the living room as he takes a quick look around the new apartment.
“How did the move go?”
“It was good,” I tell him.
He comes to sit next to me on the couch. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be here to help.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He slips his arm around me and kisses me, slower and longer this time, and when I draw back, I whisper, “How was the rest of your stay?”
“It was good,” he answers with a slight grin, echoing my response about the move. “My mother adores you.”
His sentiment is sweet, but I don’t miss that his father wasn’t included in that statement.
“I really like her too.” I am also appalled by her and her complicity. “Are they still pushing you to move back home after graduation?”
“Yeah.”
Caleb moving away tears my heart because I love him and I don’t want to lose him, but I also don’t want to be “that” girl, so I smile and tilt my head to drop another slow kiss on his lips.
“You mind if I get out of these clothes?” he asks, his breath feathering across my skin as he speaks.
“No, go ahead.”
He takes one of his suitcases into my bedroom, and I follow him in, sitting on the bed while he changes into a pair of athletic shorts and a T-shirt. After he folds his jeans, he walks over to the dresser to set them down and picks up my pen I left out and turns to me.
Caleb holds the pen in his fingers and examines it for a beat before he comes over, sits next to me on the bed, and hands it over.
“Can I be honest with you about something?”
“Of course,” I tell him.
He shifts and faces me straight on. “I’ve tried to be okay with the fact that you use this stuff, but I’m not going to lie . . . it really bothers me.”
“I have a med card. I’m not doing anything illegal.”
“I know you aren’t, but it’s the stigma that still surrounds pot.” He takes my hand in his. “The last thing I want is for people to judge you based on this, but that’s the reality. They will judge you regardless of how benign you say it is.”
I’ve known since almost the start that he isn’t comfortable around pot, and even though I don’t see the problem, I love him enough that I don’t want to do anything that’s going to make him uncomfortable. It’s been months since he found out, and he hasn’t said a word, not even when I do it in front of him.
“Do you understand where I’m coming from, babe?”
“I do,” I tell him. “I just didn’t know it bugged you so much.”
“I didn’t want to say anything and upset you.” His tone is marked tenderly with caution, as if he thinks I’m going to fly off the handle. It’s cute that he doesn’t understand the basic characteristics of a pot smoker. We’re pretty chill people.
There is a second where I weigh my appreciation for smoking against how much his feelings mean to me before responding, “If you don’t want me to use it anymore, I won’t.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“I love you, and the last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable,” I tell him before reaching over and opening the drawer to my nightstand. I pull out the cartridge boxes and hand them over to him, along with the pen. “Here.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “I wouldn’t be doing it if I weren’t okay with it. I promise. Go ahead and throw them away.”
There’s a hint of relief in his expression, which I’m glad to see, before he walks into the kitchen to toss them into the trash. The last thing this man needs is more stress in his life, so if my stopping will make him happy, I will.
When he returns, he’s grinning and has a small rectangular box in his hand. He crawls onto the bed next to me and holds the box out for me to take.
“What is this?”
“Open it and see.”
Slowly, I push the top back to reveal the cushion-cut diamond that hangs from a delicately thin platinum chain. “Caleb,” I whisper. “I can’t accept this.”
“You don’t like it?”
Not like it? Has he lost his mind? It’s beautiful. “That’s not it at all. I love it.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“It’s too nice,” I tell him, and he laughs. “I’m serious,” I exclaim. “I couldn’t possibly take this from you.”
He gently pulls the necklace from the box. “You aren’t taking anything.” Unclasping the chain, he leans over and secures it around my neck. “I’m giving it to you because I want you to know how much you mean to me.” His hands slide along my cheeks as he pulls me to him, kissing me so deeply, so passionately, that my whole body warms in his touch. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“Is that a good thing?” I murmur teasingly, and when he lowers me back onto the bed, he smiles and affirms, “It’s the best thing.”
Slowly, piece-by-piece, we strip down until we’re skin on skin, and then we make love. With his diamond resting in the hollow of my throat, my heart settles into his heart, and there’s no place I’d rather be than tucked beneath him as we move together. Despite what happened in Chicago, there’s no doubt that this is the real Caleb. That, in this moment, I can see right through to the core of who he is and who he’s meant to be. Beyond that, nothing else matters.
TRENT
First semester of sophomore year started a couple of weeks ago. This year is nothing like last, and it’s been bumming me out. Micah and Ady are a thing, which was bound to happen, but it’s totally shifted the whole dynamic of the condo. On top of that, Kate has been MIA, off doing her thing with her boyfriend. And then there’s my mom. She’s moving forward with the divorce, and surprisingly, the drama on her end has died down—for the moment.
“Are you heading out?” Ady asks as I toss a bottle of sunscreen into my backpack.
Micah had a photoshoot for one of his sponsor’s new apparel lines and is down at one of the small local beaches. I told him I’d meet him there afterward.
“Yeah. What do you have going on?”
She looks at her cell phone before dropping it to her side. “I was trying to get ahold of Kate to see if she wanted to hang out.”
“No luck?”
She shakes her head. “Have you heard from her at all lately?”
Tossing a few bot
tles of water into my bag, I shake my head. “No, man. I haven’t seen her at all.”
The last time I even spoke to Kate was at a party right before summer. Micah told me she was who brought me home that night, but I have absolutely zero memory of it. That was months ago, and it’s strange for her not to be around all the time anymore. She hasn’t even come out surfing with the crew, and if she has, it hasn’t been when I was around.
As I zip up my bag, Ady takes a seat at the kitchen island, seemingly annoyed.
“What’s bothering you, sis?”
“Nothing,” she murmurs almost listlessly. “It’s just . . . am I the only one seeing a change in her since she and Caleb got serious?”
“How serious are they?”
Her eyes stretch in disbelief. “Have you not the seen the diamond?”
A sledgehammer barrels into my chest. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“He bought her this insanely expensive diamond necklace,” she says, and I breathe a sigh of relief that it wasn’t a damn ring. “In my book, that isn’t something you buy the person you’re casually dating.”
The thought of that pretentious punk scathes me. I’ve never liked his vibe at all, but I get what Ady is dropping. She isn’t the same Kate she was before Caleb came into the picture.
After slinging the backpack over my shoulders, I grab my skimboard, muttering, “Seems like a waste of time to me.”
“On who’s end?”
“On both of theirs.”
“They love each other.”
“Whatever you say,” I respond before grabbing my things and heading out.
When I get down to my SUV and toss my bag and board into the back, I shoot a quick text to Micah.
Me: You done? I’m heading out now.
Micah: Almost. We packed up to hit another location, but I’ll be back that way in about 20 minutes.
When I make it to the beach, there are only a few other cars in the parking lot. The swells are lacking, making it near impossible to surf, but I enjoy skimming more. The sand is practically deserted with only a few people scattered about. It’s a short distance of beach between the parking lot and the water, and I waste no time, dropping my backpack and hopping on my board.
