Caleb rises from his sprawled position on the bench and walks over to the built-in cabinet directly across from the bed. He opens it to reveal a large flatscreen television, and then he walks over and flops down on the lime green comforter that clashes horribly with the red walls.
I hover awkwardly, already regretting agreeing to stay.
“Come on, Matthews.” Caleb pats the bedspread. “Don’t make it weird.”
I inch over to the bed, and finally take a seat on the edge, before laying back against the soft cushions. I make a point to keep as much distance as possible between us, which turns out to be a couple of feet, thanks to the oversized bed.
“Want to watch Frankenstein?” Caleb jokes as he flips through movie titles on the screen.
I scoff. “Pass.”
“What about this?” Caleb asks. I glance at the screen to see he’s pulled up some action thriller.
“Fine,” I say, raising a hand to mask the yawn I can feel coming. Laying down was a bad idea. It feels like every limb of my body suddenly weighs a hundred pounds, sinking down into the foam mattress that’s way more comfortable than my own bed.
Caleb starts the movie, and the sound of shooting and shouts emanates from the television’s speakers. It’s not the silence I’m used to falling asleep to, but it doesn’t matter. I’m losing the battle with my eyelids. I’m too tired to talk. I’m too tired to insist Caleb drives me home. I’m too tired to care that falling asleep in Caleb Winters’ bed is a really bad idea.
And then I’m too tired to think at all.
ELEVEN
__________________________________
There are a lot of places where I never expected to wake up. Greece. The Amazon rainforest. The middle of the ocean. And despite being less far-fetched, at least geographically speaking, Caleb Winters’ bed would have topped the list of locations least likely to come to in if I’d ever been asked.
And yet when I open my eyes I immediately know that’s exactly where I am.
I bolt straight upright in bed. The room’s mostly dark, despite the fact the window shades on either side of the bed are wide open. The sun hasn’t risen yet. The only light comes from the television, which casts a dim blue glow over the bed. The bed I’m currently in. With Caleb Winters.
“Caleb,” I hiss, looking over at his sleeping figure. He groans, but doesn’t react otherwise. “Caleb!” This time, I pair my harried words with a light shove, and it’s enough to open his blue eyes.
He looks straight at me first, and then lets his gaze wander to our surroundings, as if to confirm we’re still in his bedroom. His lazy perusal wanders back to me as he sits up slowly. “This is a surprise,” he admits, running a hand through his hair. The action ruffles the dark strands into what should be a comical disarray, but instead they manage to look both adorably mussed and sexily tousled. I doubt I could say the same about my hair if confronted with a mirror.
“A surprise is rain that wasn’t on the forecast. Waking up in bed with you is more like a traumatic event,” I snap.
Caleb has the audacity to laugh. “A traumatic event? We fell asleep watching a movie. Not sure what’s so scarring about that.”
“It wasn’t the what, but the who,” I reply sweetly as I slide off the soft comforter and stretch. Conversing with Caleb while laying on a bed next to him is not conducive to thinking clearly. His hair isn’t the only part of him that looks attractive first thing in the morning.
“Wow, you really wake up guns blazing, huh?” Caleb observes.
“When I wake up in a strange bed, yes. It’s not exactly a regular occurrence for me, you know. I’m sure you can’t relate,” I remark snidely.
Caleb just continues to look amused. “Didn’t peg you for someone who believes every rumor, Lennon.”
“I might be slightly more inclined to believe them if they involve you,” I admit.
He laughs again as he climbs off the other side of his bed. “I never would have guessed. Just give me a minute to change, and then I’ll drive you home.” Caleb grabs a couple of things from his dresser, and then heads into the adjoining bathroom, leaving me with the tantalizing opportunity to study his bedroom unsupervised.
I resist the urge for about thirty seconds, but then I wander over to his desk. I run the pads of my fingers along the varnished wood surface as I study the bulletin board mounted above it. It’s an eclectic collection of items. A few photos with his baseball teammates, a copy of his class schedule, a ticket to junior prom. I open one of the desk drawers, only to discover it’s filled with nothing but old school notebooks. I slide it shut.
“Are you snooping?” Caleb’s voice startles me, and I knock two books off his desk in my haste to spin back around. Not incriminating at all.
“No,” I respond quickly. “Just . . . sightseeing.”
Caleb’s smirk makes it clear he doesn’t believe me. “If you’re done poking around my belongings, I’m ready to go.” He’s changed, I realize, into a pair of jeans and a different sweatshirt than the one he woke up in. He’s also tamed his short dark hair, making me miss the messy mohawk.
I grab the book bag I abandoned last night and to my surprise, Caleb grabs his own as well.
“What are you doing? Aren’t you coming back here?”
Caleb shrugs. “I’m already up.” He opens his bedroom door and starts sauntering down the hallway. I hurry after him.
“What if your parents see us?” I ask. As horrified as I am about waking up next to Caleb, it would be infinitely worse for anyone else to become aware of that fact. And based on the sneer Mrs. Winters gave me last night, she would be equally displeased.
Caleb lets out a short laugh. “My dad’s out of town, and my mom won’t be up for hours. They’re not ordinarily the attentive sort. As long as I’m not out besmirching the Winters name, they could really care less what I do.”
I don’t have anything to say to that, aside from informing Caleb hanging out with me is probably the worst form of name besmirching he could engage in. But I don’t feel like pointing that out.
I’m just as struck by the glamour and glitz of the Winters mansion on my second trip through it as I was last night. Morning light is starting to creep in through the picture windows, bathing the soft shades surrounding us in hints of color.
“I’ve always wondered what these houses look like inside,” I muse as I follow Caleb through another hallway lined with antique side tables and expensive oil paintings.
Caleb studies what I’m guessing is an awestruck expression. “It’s awful,” he offers. “Like living in a museum.”
“Grass is always greener, I guess,” I reply, as I follow him through the soaring foyer and outside, pulling my fleece tighter around my torso to combat the early morning chill.
“Or bluer, based on our location.” Caleb’s grin is wide, obviously pleased with himself for coming up with that comment.
I roll my eyes. “That was lame.”
“Then why are you smiling?”
“I’m not,” I lie, quickly wiping any traces of amusement from my face as I climb in the truck.
“You’re a terrible liar,” Caleb informs me as he climbs into the driver’s seat.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I respond pertly as I snap the seatbelt into place from my spot on the passenger side.
“Well, normally you take everything I say as an insult, so I’d call that progress.”
“I don’t take it as an insult, most of what you say to me is insulting.”
“I think that’s a matter of opinion.”
“Exactly. My opinion.” Caleb opens his mouth to voice what I’m certain will be an argument, so I speak again before he has a chance to. “Can we get going, please? I’ve got a lot to do before school.”
“You have a lot to do at—” Caleb glances at the clock on the dashboard. “—5:30 AM?”
“Yes,” I sigh, enervated by the thought of all the exigent tasks waiting for me at the barn. “I didn’t make you
meet me that early for the last interview just to make you miserable, you know.”
“It was just a bonus?”
I glance over at Caleb’s grinning face as we start rolling down the gravel driveway. The soaring oaks lining each side of the road block some of the rising sun, but the golden glow still manages to fulgurate inside the car between each branch, bathing the interior of the truck and Caleb’s features in brilliance. My once pellucid feelings towards Caleb Winters are now murky at best, but a few are quite clear right now. Appreciation. Admiration. A little lust.
“Maybe,” I admit, turning my gaze to the white fence line we’re whizzing past in an attempt to curb the titillating turn my thoughts have taken. I blame lack of sleep.
It only takes a couple more minutes to reach the dirt stretch that signals the start of my driveway after we leave Caleb’s. I view Matthews Farm through especially critical eyes, fresh from the pristine surroundings of the immaculate Winters estate. I consider instructing Caleb to leave me at the end of the driveway, but I decide not to bother. I don’t feel like erecting a wall just yet, which is ironic considering my worries last night. I certainly haven’t achieved any distance from Caleb in the hours I literally spent sleeping next to him.
I fling the truck’s door open as soon as it comes to a stop, eager to put some space between us and let Caleb leave to go wherever he’s planning to head at this hour. Not only am I running behind schedule, I’m also worried about Gramps. He rarely gets up before six, but I definitely don’t want him to see me exiting Caleb’s truck and realize I didn’t spend the night under the same roof as him. Impatient whinnies pierce the air as I climb out of the warm car, the horses no more pleased by my tardiness than I am.
“I’ll see you at school, Caleb,” I say in farewell. “Thanks for the ride,” I add begrudgingly before I close the door and then race towards the house, not giving him a chance to respond.
The farmhouse is still and silent when I slip inside the front door, and I let out a sigh of relief. Gramps is usually one to make his presence known, slamming frypans and clomping around in his heavy boots from the moment he wakes up until he passes out on the couch at night. I sneak up the stairs, carefully avoiding the spots I know will creak. Reaching my bedroom door, I twist the handle and rush inside, letting out a long exhale of air when I close the door behind me and drop my backpack on the floor.
There’s no time to savor my successful sneak in. My first, and likely last. I quickly change into a fresh pair of jeans and a clean shirt before pulling my fleece jacket back on. I yank a brush through my tangles, and then wind my long hair up in a careless attempt at a bun before darting back down the hall to use the bathroom.
Gramps emerges from his bedroom at the same time as I exit the restroom, face washed and teeth brushed.
“Morning, Gramps,” I call out as I rush towards the stairs.
“Where’s the fire, Lennie?” he calls, stomping down the stairs after me.
“I haven’t been out to the barn yet,” I yell back as I grab a banana from the kitchen and hurry out the front door. Only to come to a screeching stop.
Caleb’s truck is still parked in front of the barn.
I say a bad word under my breath before I start walking again, pausing when I reach the driver’s side of the car. He’s not inside.
Sounds of stamping and snorting are emanating from the barn, so I abandon peering inside Caleb’s empty truck to head into the barn. My appearance increases the din substantially. Hooves clang against wood and excited nickers fill the air.
“Caleb?” I call out, feeling ridiculous.
“What?” his voice replies. I track the sound to the feed room.
“What the hell are you still doing here?” I ask, entering the small room to find him slouched against the table where I normally mix feed and supplements, surveying the dim, dusty space.
“What did you call it earlier? Oh yeah, I’m ‘sightseeing.’” He stops looking around and gives me a snarky grin.
“Also known as trespassing,” I correct as I start to collect feed pails.
“Interesting how one’s perspective shifts,” Caleb comments, humor glinting in his blue eyes.
I drop the buckets next to him on the table with a little more force than usual. “Fine, I was snooping earlier. Will you please leave now? I’ve got a ton to do, and I—”
“What do you mean? Don’t you have . . . ” Caleb’s words trail off as realization replaces amusement. “You take care of all these horses yourself?” The astonished pity displayed on his face is more than I’m equipped to handle following what has already been a taxing morning.
“Just leave, Caleb. I don’t need—”
“Lennie?” My grandfather’s booming voice interrupts me. He’s close by. Meaning he already saw the strange truck outside.
“Shit,” I whisper under my breath. “What is it, Gramps?” I shout back.
“I wanted to see whether you—” He opens the door to the feed room, and stops speaking as soon as he sees Caleb. We don’t have many visitors. Certainly none that are my age. And definitely none that are male. “Who’s this?” Something in his bemused expression tells me he already knows.
Caleb and his manners, damn them, snap into place. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Matthews. I’m Caleb Winters.” He holds out a hand, which Gramps shakes heartily.
“Winters, eh? I thought that was the name of the fella you’re always complaining about, Lennie.” Gramps has never been one for subtlety. He knows exactly who Caleb Winters is and exactly how I feel about him.
“He is,” I reply bluntly as I start distributing the grain into feed pails.
“Lennon has a tendency to take everything I say the wrong way,” Caleb offers by way of explanation. Although my back is to him, I can picture the charming grin I’m sure he’s giving Gramps perfectly.
Sure enough, Gramps chuckles. “He seems nice enough to me, darling.”
“Traitor,” I mutter under my breath as I scoop the grain.
“And how did my granddaughter manage to get you on our property at this ungodly hour?” Gramps asks Caleb.
I interject before Caleb has a chance to answer. “I asked him to pick me up before school to finish the interview for the paper. We didn’t get it all done last night. I overslept, though.”
“Well, get out of here, then,” Gramps says. “I’ll finish up the chores.”
“I’ve barely started, Gramps. They all have to be turned out still.”
“I’ll manage.”
I raise both eyebrows. We both know he can’t. He hasn’t done anything more than some light lifting since his hip injury. He certainly hasn’t tried to lead any of the spirited stallions out to the west pasture. “No you won’t, Gramps. If I rush I can get it all done.”
He heaves out a long sigh. “You worry too much, Lennie.”
“And you don’t worry enough,” I retort.
Gramps turns to Caleb, who’s been watching the two of us like a ping-pong match. “Can I get you a coffee or anything, Caleb?”
“No, sir, I’m all set. Thank you.”
“No need for the formality. Just call me Earl,” my grandfather says before he hobbles out of the barn.
I sigh as he disappears. “There goes my last sympathetic audience.”
Caleb turns his gaze on me. “What?”
“He likes you. I can’t complain to anyone at school about the shit you pull without them acting like I’m insane. Gramps was all I had. Now he’ll take your side too.” I let out another exasperated sigh, but it’s not as genuine as it once would have been. Sure, Caleb still annoys me plenty, but I no longer mean the words I etched under the trophy case to my left junior year.
Caleb surprises me by laughing. And it’s not brief or stiff or mocking, a sound I’ve heard many times before. It’s genuine. Warm. “Sorry to disappoint. With the exception of you, most people seem to like me, Matthews.”
I make a small sound of incredulity, although I know he’s right.<
br />
“So, what can I do to help?” Caleb asks.
“What?” I reply, shocked.
“I’m stuck here until you’re ready to leave. Might as well help out.”
“You’re not stuck here, we took your truck,” I retort. “You can leave right now and I’ll walk to school like usual as soon as I finish here.”
“Seems silly, since we’re due at the same place in—” he pulls out his phone to check the time, “—forty minutes.”
“Do you even know anything about horses?” I ask. “Aside from petting them?” I add, recalling his interaction with Grand Slam last night.
Caleb snorts. “I think I can handle it, Matthews.”
“Fine.” I hold out a couple of the buckets I’ve already filled. “Give these to the two mares on the right. First two stalls.”
I have to bite my bottom lip to keep from grinning at the sight of Caleb juggling the two buckets as he tries to open the swinging door with his arms full. It slams shut behind him once he finally manages to.
“You said the left, right?” I hear him call from the aisle.
“Right!” I holler back, and I hear him laugh.
After all the mares are happily munching on their breakfast, Caleb follows me over to the stallion barn. Feeding Geiger and Gallie is a much quicker process. There’s only two of them, and their diets are identical, speeding up the measuring significantly.
As soon as the stallions are fed, I head back to the main barn, grabbing four halters from the row of hooks to the right of the door. “Can you handle two?” I ask Caleb.
He nods. I slip halters on Ransom and Stormy. Ransom’s our oldest mare, and Stormy is expecting a foal in four months. I’m fairly certain Caleb notices I’ve given him the two most docile horses, because he lets out a quiet snort. He doesn’t comment, though, just follows me along the path that leads to the east pasture where the mares spend most of the day.
We let the four horses loose, and the head back in the direction of the main barn.
The Hard Way Home Page 12
