Only Between Us

by Mila Ferrera

  “I’ll go with you!” announces Catherine. “We can chat.”

  Caleb’s eyes go soft and wistful as he looks at his sister, and it tugs at my heart. “That would be nice,” I say cheerfully.

  He turns to me. “Are you sure?”

  I touch his face, his scruffy cheeks pricking my fingertips. “Absolutely. We’ll be back soon.”

  Catherine grabs her bag and we head out, walking to my apartment complex and retrieving my car. “Cabe likes you a lot,” she says to me as we set out for the grocery store. “I mean, he’s been with a ton of different girls, but I think you’re special to him.”

  My stomach clenches a little at the thought of him being with a ton of different girls. “Um. I’m glad. He’s special to me, too.”

  “Good. It seems like you can understand him. Like you can understand our family.”

  I shift in my seat. “I’d like to, Catherine.”

  “Cabe knows how important family is,” she murmurs as she looks out the window. “He knows.”

  I change the subject to books, and we spend the rest of the shopping trip talking about our favorite romance novels. Catherine is in a bubbly mood, pointing out all of Caleb’s favorite foods with great pride, nixing most things I suggest. It’s fine. She knows him better than I do, and I want him to have things he likes. It makes me feel good as I see them slide by on the conveyor belt at checkout. There are few things as magnificent as seeing Caleb’s expression when it hits him that I’m prioritizing his needs. I can actually see it on his face, this raw sort of hope mixed with hunger. I want to put that look on his face as often as possible. I want him to know that it’s real.

  We make dinner together and watch a DVD afterward. It’s Step Up, which is apparently Catherine’s favorite movie ever. I am not a fan of Channing Tatum, so I spend the time hyperaware of Caleb’s body and wishing we could be alone, then mentally smacking myself for being so self-absorbed. Caleb is smiling. He’s watching a movie with his sister, and he’s happy. When it’s over, he watches her take her meds and hugs her before she goes into her room for the night, then joins me on the couch.

  He doesn’t invite me back to his room. And of course, that makes sense, since she’s right there. He probably remembers all the noise I made yesterday as he made me lose control over and over again.

  “Are you all right?” he asks quietly, putting his arm around my back.

  “I’m good.” I bite my lip. I have to talk to him about this tonight, because my mom needs a headcount, but is it too soon? “I was actually thinking about Christmas.”

  He chuckles. “Ah. My least favorite holiday.”

  I freeze. “Oh.”

  “It’s never been a good time of year. You can understand that, right?”

  “Yeah,” I choke out. “Totally.”

  His fingers nudge my chin up. “Tell me what Christmas is like for you.” His brows lower for a moment. “We’ve spent hours on the phone, Romy, and you don’t talk much about your parents.” He’s right. Part of that is because I didn’t want to remind him of his own family issues, and part of it is that there’s not much to tell. I had a nanny growing up, and my parents traveled a lot—usually without me.

  “Christmas is a little lonely now that my dad’s parents are dead. We used to spend Christmases with them, and they were magical. But for the last ten years or so, it hasn’t been like that. My parents have always been a little hands off.” I blow out a jittery breath. “I mean, they’re my parents, and they love me.” I’m babbling. Caleb doesn’t look like he minds, but I need to get to the point. “I have to go back to Grosse Pointe for Christmas. They have a big party—it’s on the twenty-third this year—and I’ll probably drive down that day.”

  “I can’t tell whether you’re looking forward to it or dreading it.”

  “Well, that depends.” My heart is thumping so violently that I’m surprised he can’t feel it. “They always ask me if I’d like to bring a guest to the party. My mom asked me to give her a final answer on that this afternoon.”

  His whole body goes still. “What did you tell her?”

  “I haven’t responded yet.” I wish I could read his expression. This is terrifying. “I mean, whoever comes has to tolerate my dad’s obsession with golf and brandy, and my mom’s inquisition, because she’s super nosy. The party’s pretty cool because they hire professional musicians and there’s dancing, but …” I glance up at him, hoping for a sign, getting nothing. Well, he said I was brave, so here goes: “I was wondering if you had any interest in coming?”

  “You want me to meet your parents?” He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “They won’t like me, Romy. You know that, right?”

  Yes, actually, I know that. But if things go like I’m hoping they will, they’ll have to get used to him. “I don’t really care. They’d adjust. I-I mean, you don’t have to, Caleb. It was just a thought. I got this stupid text—”

  But I don’t finish the thought, because he’s kissing me fiercely, our tongues tangling, his rough skin scraping mine raw. Like so many times before with Caleb, I get the sense he’s trying to tell me something, but doesn’t quite have the right words. He strokes my hair, my face, my back, and then pulls me against his chest. “You really want me to go with you?” he whispers. His heart is beating like a jackhammer against me. “Are you sure?”

  I slide my arm around his waist, wondering if he really understands how he’s changed things for me. I know I’ve only known him for two months, but this feels different than any crush or any relationship I’ve ever had. It runs deeper. It makes me feel terrified and powerfully strong at the same time. My parents are going to be slack-jawed and gaping when I walk in with him and tell them what he does for a living, but that will be half the fun. As will the chance to sneak away from the party and hide ourselves away in my room with a couple of glasses of champagne in our systems. “Completely.”

  He kisses my temple, and I can feel his smile against my skin. “Then I’m there.”

  My fingernails scrape against Caleb’s back as he thrusts into me. He hits me so deep that I let out a cry and whimper as he pulls back again, torturously slow and controlled. In the dim light of my room, I see the strained smile on his face. “You like that,” he says in a low voice, forcefully sliding into me again.

  “God, you have no idea,” I moan. “You’re killing me. Don’t stop.”

  He chuckles as he withdraws, almost completely. “Don’t think I could, even if I wanted to.” And then he flexes his hips, smothering my scream with his mouth over mine. My orgasm rises up inside me, breaking me apart, and he holds my face in his hands and presses his forehead to mine. He keeps those haunting gray eyes on me and doesn’t stop moving as I pulse around him, clutching at his shoulders while he delivers stroke after stroke. “You’re so beautiful when you come,” he says between breaths, and then pushes up on his hands. I wrap my legs around his hips and put my hands on his chest, feeling his heart thunder as he grinds against me and groans as his own climax takes him over.

  He sinks onto me and rolls to his side. I snuggle into his chest as he pulls my comforter over us. My heart is racing. Sex with him is exhilarating and freeing and unbearably sweet at the same time. I find myself saying and doing things I never thought I would, never thought I could. I feel safe to explore, safe to be me, safe because I’m with him. I had no idea it could be that way, but now I don’t want to live without it—or Caleb. I brush his hair from his face and throw my leg over his while he strokes my back.

  “Can you stay?” I whisper. It’s Friday night. Catherine sleeps in on Saturdays.

  Caleb is quiet for a few moments, long enough that I know his answer before he says it aloud. “I think I need to get back.” He kisses my forehead. “But I don’t have to leave this very minute.”

  I close my eyes and tell myself to be happy for every moment I get. This is how it is, and I need to get used to it. In the last few weeks since the whole drug-deal-gone-bad incident, Catherine’s b
een stuck to Caleb like a barnacle.

  “Of course,” I say. “Maybe I could come over tomorrow?” I’ve been trying to negotiate my relationship with Catherine, but it only seems to be getting harder.

  He sighs. “She wanted me to take her to a movie tomorrow. Just her and me. She’s paying with her own money and she’s really proud of that.”

  “Call me after?” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat.

  “I’ll—” His phone rings. Caleb springs up from the bed and digs it from his pile of clothes on the floor. “Katie. What’s up? I thought you were asleep … oh …” He glances at me and then looks away, rubbing at a spot above his eyebrow. “Sure. Sure. I’ll be home in a few minutes.”

  He presses END and frowns at the phone. “She had another nightmare. She’s really upset and doesn’t feel safe.” He scrubs his hand over his face. “I have to go.”

  I sit up, pulling the blanket over my chest. “She’s been having a lot of nightmares lately,” I say quietly. Usually as soon as she realizes Caleb’s left for my place.

  “She said she’s remembering some stuff,” he says, looking nauseated. “She finally disclosed the abuse in her therapy session a few days ago, and it’s made her so raw, Romy. I can’t let her go through that alone.”

  Probably because he blames himself for the whole thing.

  “I know,” I whisper, then watch in silence as he gets dressed and comes over to sit on the edge of the bed.

  “You understand, right?” he asks.

  I nod. “What are you going to do when we’re at my parents’ house? Have you thought about that?”

  He looks away. “I’m not sure. I was thinking I’d try to get her through this, and then we’d see?”

  “Have you told her that you’re going?”

  He shakes his head. “I thought it would upset her.”

  “It’s definitely going to upset her, Caleb! That’s why you need to plan how this is going to happen in advance.” Please. Do this for me. For us.

  He stands up quickly. “I’ll tell her when it feels right,” he says firmly, but then he touches my arm. His expression is pleading. “I just got her back, Romy. She hasn’t let me close to her for years, and now she is. I … I don’t want to mess that up.” He leans down and brushes his lips over mine, but the kiss deepens as his hands rise to cup my face. He leans his forehead against mine, his eyes shut. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he finally says, then steps away from me abruptly.

  He’s out the door a moment later. I pull my knees to my chest. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells whenever the topic of Catherine comes up … which means I’m walking on eggshells all the time. I replay his words in my head … I don’t want to mess that up. He’s basically told me he fears that going to meet my parents—even telling her he’s going—will do exactly that. For the first time, I wonder if I’ve done the right thing. I don’t want to be selfish. But when it comes to Caleb, I’m afraid that’s exactly what I am.

  “If I had any cash on me, I’d pay to know what you’re thinking,” says Caleb.

  I glance toward the bathroom. Catherine’s in there, blow-drying her hair. My pumpkin pie sits on the table covered in foil. We’re leaving for Amy’s to have Thanksgiving dinner as soon as Catherine’s ready. “My thoughts aren’t worth that much.”

  He skims his fingers along my hairline. “They are to me.”

  I look into his eyes, focusing on that tiny dot of pure blue that I love so much. “Will it be weird, having me there at the table?”

  He moves closer, his fingers closing gently around the back of my neck. “The whole thing is weird, Romy, but in a good way.” His lips have just touched mine when the bathroom door opens. Caleb steps away from me instantly.

  “I’m ready,” Catherine announces as she strides down the hall. She’s wearing a sleeveless dress with leaves on it and her hair falls in waves over her shoulders. Her arms rise from her sides as she looks at Caleb, and he grins.

  “You look nice,” he offers.

  Catherine’s gaze flits to me. “I love that dress,” I say quickly. “But maybe … a sweater?” It’s thirty degrees outside.

  There’s a dull, dark look in her eye. I’m seeing it increasingly often, and it makes my palms sweat. She rubs her hands over her bare arms. “I’ll wear a jacket.”

  I grab my pie and we set off. I drive, because Caleb’s truck doesn’t easily accommodate three people. He sits in the back so Catherine doesn’t have to. He doesn’t want her to feel like a third wheel, and I agree; I wouldn’t want her to feel unwanted, but at the same time, I wish I could hold his hand. I’m nervous about this dinner with Amy and her family.

  As I pull onto Main Street, my heart jolts, and I squint into the rearview mirror. I could have sworn I just saw a red Acura a few cars behind us. Alex …

  “Whoa, eyes to the front!” Catherine yelps, and I refocus in time to brake suddenly at a red light.

  I let out a shaky breath. “Sorry.”

  “Are you all right?” Caleb asks from the back. His eyes search mine in the mirror.

  “Yeah …” I look away from him and give myself a little mental shake. There’s nothing back there, and I have the restraining order, and Alex is simply not that stupid. I can’t believe I’m freaking out over something like this. “Sorry—I got distracted for a second. It won’t happen again.”

  I spend the entire drive flicking my gaze back to the rearview.

  When we pull up to Amy’s house, Catherine immediately gets out and jogs up the walk like a little kid. Caleb unfolds himself from my backseat and takes my hand. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks. “Are you really that nervous about being with Amy and her family?”

  “Maybe a little,” I say, clutching my pie.

  Dinner goes smoothly, and the credit for that goes to Reeve and Damien, because the two of them are cute as buttons and hold everyone’s attention. It keeps all of them from awkward silences in which they can remember everything they’ve been through. When we’re done eating, Caleb goes into the living room to watch football with Derrick, Catherine plays with the boys, and I go to the kitchen to help Amy with the dishes.

  “Thanks for letting me come along,” I say as I scrape plates.

  “No problem,” says Amy, looking thoughtful as she carves up the rest of the turkey. “Caleb said he wanted you here.”

  I smile. “That’s good to know.”

  “He thinks you’re good for Catherine.”

  My smile falters and I make sure my face is turned away. “She’s really important to him.”

  “He’s going to want to keep a close eye on her in the next few weeks. She struggles with this season. Last year, she was hospitalized. The year before that, she ran off, and my mom really freaked out. Caleb found her at the bus station and brought her back, but she didn’t want to come and nearly made him wreck his truck while he was driving her home.”

  I cringe. “So what’s the plan for this year? Have you guys talked about it?”

  Amy’s forehead wrinkles. “Plan?”

  “Yeah. If she struggles with the season and tends to go into crisis, what’s the safety plan?”

  “Caleb, I guess. I assumed he’d watch out for her.”

  “He’s coming with me to my parents’ Christmas party on the twenty-third,” I blurt.

  Amy freezes mid-slice, a strip of turkey meat sagging away from her knife blade. “Are you taking Katie?”

  I stare at her, emotion swirling like a hurricane inside me. “No.” I wish I could erase the last fifteen seconds from her mind. I can’t believe I told her. Caleb’s going to be so upset … but maybe … maybe this is good. Maybe we can be proactive now. Hopefully he’ll forgive me. “We’ll be gone for less than two days,” I say. “This is his first time meeting my family.”

  Amy meets my gaze for a few seconds, and then she returns to her task. “It’s a very busy week for us,” she says blandly, and then she goes on to describe all the activities she has planned for the boys.
I listen and respond with monosyllables, but I escape to the living room as soon as the kitchen approaches a semblance of order and cleanliness.

  Derrick is snarling at the television because his team is losing, but none of it seems to reach Caleb, who has fallen asleep in the recliner. I creep over to him and spread a throw blanket over his legs and chest. He’s sitting right next to the window, where frost laces across the panes. I watch him for a moment, skimming my fingers down his face, thinking how he’s earned this rest, how he deserves every moment of respite and peace he’s getting now. How nothing and nobody should make his life more complicated.

  A hollow feeling churns in my stomach, despite the fact that I’m full of turkey and pie. I wander into their sitting room and sink onto a chaise, needing a moment of respite myself. But a minute later, Catherine walks by the doorway and sees me there. “Why are you in here by yourself?” she asks. “Did you and Cabe get in a fight?”

  I shake my head, wondering if I’m imagining the glimmer of hopefulness in her tone. “He’s napping. I don’t think he’s that into football. Or maybe he’s just tired.”

  “He should go to bed earlier,” she says. “He gets up at seven every morning to make sure I take my pills, and he’s been staying out pretty late the past few weeks.” Because of you, says her expression.

  I try to smile, but don’t quite manage it. I’m feeling so selfish and wretched at the moment, and her presence is making it worse.

  “Amy told me you’re taking Cabe to some party down in Detroit right before Christmas.”

  I blink. Amy works fast—and gives no advance warning, apparently. But I’ll take this opportunity for what it is. Maybe Catherine and I can come to an understanding. “Yeah. We’re going to drive down on the twenty-third, and we’ll come back early on Christmas Eve.”

  “Christmas is hard for me,” she says slowly, giving me that dark, dull look I’ve come to dread. “It always has been. It’s a reminder of how messed up my life is. And my mom won’t be here this year.” Her voice has become a strained whisper.