“I think more than the space, that’s what called me to the carriage house,” I admit.
“The water?” he asks, not looking at me.
“Yes. There’s just something that calls me to it. When I’m upset. When I need to think. When I just need to breathe. And while we’re not far from the ocean, I can’t get there that easily.”
“We’ll have to take you out on the boat sometime,” he declares.
I sit up so fast, I almost dump my wine. “You own a boat?” Seriously? When the hell did he have time to go out on it?
Laughing, he reaches out and grabs my shoulder to pull me back down next to him, closer than I was before. “Nah. We have a membership to a boating club where you can take boats out each weekend during the season. Neither Ry nor I want to put forth the effort to maintain the boat when the season is so short here.”
“Ah, so you’re lazy,” I reply, cheekily. “I understand now.”
“Lazy! Why you—” He rolls on top of me and starts to tickle me, relentlessly. And I can’t fight back, as I’m holding a goblet of red wine over my head, giving Caleb easy access to my left rib cage.
Shrieking, I kick my legs out in modified self-defense. “I give! I give,” I screech, laughing.
Dropping a kiss on my lips, he rolls off me. Taking the wine from my hand, he snags the blanket at the foot of the chaise and pulls it up over us as I settle back against him. Snuggling against his warmth, his arm tightens slightly over my shoulders as I lean my head against him.
“How is it I just feel so comfortable with you, Caleb?” I muse quietly. It’s the truth. I’ve met a few men over the years as attractive as Caleb, but none who have set me at ease. Ever. I’ve never felt the urges I guess normal women do.
In the incredibly short time I’ve known him, I feel lighter, less burdened. Maybe it’s because he knows the worst there is to know about me and doesn’t care. He just sees me. Cassidy. Not the victim that was, but maybe the woman who has been hiding and waiting to break free.
I don’t feel traumatized that he knows, I feel relieved. Like a cautious bird, I feel like I’m taking perch on a limb. I don’t feel the need to flee. But there’s something in me telling me Caleb will scare off the predators who will cause me to flee.
I feel his lips brush the top of my hair. “Maybe because we’ve both witnessed versions of Hell and come out the other side, Pixie. Maybe we recognize that in each other, and know the things we’ll fight about and for are pretty much in line with one another.” He goes quiet, getting lost in his thoughts.
I look up at his profile. I feel him absentmindedly stroking my hair, his attention over the water. His profile is tight in his memories? In mine? I reach up and touch his chin.
“Hey,” I whisper. His eyes cut to me immediately. Even through the combined darkness and their dark pools, I can see something churning. “What is it?”
His eyes close as I continue to trace his strong jaw. “In many ways, Pixie, when I left the Army, I felt like I left one hell to walk straight into another.”
Because of my conversation with Jason, I know exactly what Caleb is referring to, but I know he needs to get it out. “I’ve been told I’m a good listener.” I say, quietly.
And just like that, Caleb starts talking, holding nothing back. He tells me everything from when Ryan came out to when he joined the military. He talks about what it was like being born into one of the wealthiest families in New England, and how growing up with a legacy of men who served, he was expected to join. He talks about how he never expected the camaraderie, and how he could shed the mantle of being a Lockwood and focus on serving our country. He tells me about Ryan’s side of what happened, including the abuse he suffered at their mother’s—or as Caleb calls her, the birth vessel—hands, just for realizing he was sexually attracted to men. Because it was a black mark against the purity of the Lockwood name. His anger at his mother doesn’t scare me. If anything, it solidifies what I already knew about this man. He doesn’t strike out for pleasure, but only in protection, and only when justified.
Caleb goes on to tell me about why he left the military. About how a Skype call with Ryan’s drunk ramblings about his first broken relationship with Jason after years because he was falling for Jared. Ryan, now wary of love, didn’t feel like he could trust in Jared. Caleb wanted to get on a plane to straighten out his brother immediately, but he couldn’t. At the time, he was on a critical undercover operation where he was gathering preliminary intelligence on a hidden military target in Western Europe for an unnamed terrorist sect. He naturally leaves out any information about the group or the operation, but tells me about how he almost took a bullet because he was so distracted over Ryan’s potential breakup with Jared. And about how Keene walked in, saving him, taking a bullet to the thigh meant for Caleb’s forehead.
“When I left the military, I bought Hudson, and Keene came with me.” He looks down at me. “You know, we don’t just work there, we own the place. Keene and I needed the challenge and we knew working for someone else wouldn’t work for us. Keene was about to be medically discharged from our unit, but not the Army due to the injury on his leg. He could have been riding a desk, worked as a lawyer or Intel, but he would’ve been riding a desk. If he was going to be behind that desk, he figured he would throw in with me and make money doing it.” He sighs. “I need you to understand why I didn’t just abandon him to his asshole ways. We’ve done everything together since we were kids. Prep school. College. The Army. And then there’s Riley.” Caleb let’s out a deep, heartfelt sigh.
“Who’s Riley?” I ask quietly, taking a sip of wine, remembering the tattoo on Keene’s leg.
“She was Keene’s sister. She was kidnapped when she was four from their family home. He’s never given up hope she’s alive, and it’s been twenty-five years this past summer. That’s why he got the tattoo with her name on it. He refuses to believe she’s gone because no one’s ever asked for ransom and they’ve never found her body.” Caleb runs his hand through his hair, his pain evident.
“Did you know her?”
“We’re about six years older so I do have some memories of her. She was a pretty little thing. Loved Keene—day to his night. After she was taken, his mother died soon after. Some think it was of a broken heart. He’s never been the same since.”
I feel a crushing pain for Keene. How does he live with that? My harsh words last night protecting my right to choose whether or not to start something with Caleb replay through my head. The food and wine I ate start churning in my stomach. I feel so ashamed over the way I used it to taunt him.
God, I was such a bitch.
“Don’t, Pixie. I can feel where your mind’s going. Keene has the right to make decisions for Keene, no one else. What you did last night,” Caleb’s hand firmly tugs my hair so I meet his eyes across the dark, “was something that may make Keene question his actions toward others and start to bring him back from the demons only he fully battles. They’re locked inside him. I can’t reach them, and trust me, I’ve tried. Don’t ever question what you did last night. You stood up for your rights, and my rights. You stood up for the possibility of an us. Do you have any idea what that means to me?”
I shake my head no.
Caleb releases my hair and slides his hand up to the back of my neck where my amaryllis tattoo rests. His fingers absentmindedly trace the edges as his eyes remain locked on mine. “You made each other a promise to stand with each other. A vow?”
I don’t remember telling him that, but then again, I told him so much last night I probably did. My head is in his hands so I know he can feel when I nod.
“I feel like last night you did the same thing for us. You fought for a chance, Pixie. We all have our demons and dark places we wake up from in the middle of the night. We know they never go away. It’s in how we live the day-to-day that keeps them at bay.”
Something that’s been worrying me since the minute he asked me out comes spewing out of my mouth. “Yo
u don’t think I’m tainted by what happened to me?” I hold my breath, scared of how he’ll answer. As close as we are on the lounger, I literally feel his body lock. His immediate fury is almost palpable.
“What did you just say?” His voice is scary quiet in the dark of the night.
“I said…” I don’t even get to finish. I’m flipped over onto my back so quickly, the breath whooshes out of my lungs. Caleb’s face is mere inches from mine and he’s breathing fire.
His arms are bent at the elbows, braced on either side of my head. The strength in his muscular frame pushes mine deeper into the lounger. I’m caged in, but I don’t feel trapped. His fury over my question is evident in his harsh breath against my face and narrowed eyes, but I chance looking into his eyes and wait to see things I expect.
Disgust.
Revulsion.
Pity.
None of that is there. But it’s his words take away the last concerns I have about that.
“Cassidy, you were a baby attacked by monsters. Monsters, for the love of fuck. For people who say they don’t exist, they need to get their head surgically removed out of their asses and wake up to the real fucking world. You have no idea of what I fucking want to do to the people who hurt you. I pray they’re all dead before I find them.” I’m in shock over the depth of emotion I feel coming from him.
“I want your eyes to spark when I tease you. I want you to smile and laugh. I want to take you out and hold your hand. I want to get so buried inside your soul, the last thing you think about is kicking me out of it when you realize I’m no good for you, when I lay my own demons on you. What I don’t ever want you thinking is that you’re tainted by your past.” He ends on a whisper, his eyes boring into mine in the dark.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph.
Is this normal?
To feel so much this quickly?
Because it doesn’t feel like I’m the only one.
I see the swirl of my own emotions race across his face. Need, want, fear, hope. It’s the hope that pulls me under.
I reach up and slowly drag my fingers over his face—tracing it, but not touching it.
The slow movement of his head as his face turns back to mine, eyes wide, would almost be comical under any other circumstances. “What?” he whispers.
“It’s just something I do when I want to remember something important. When we didn’t have money for a camera as kids, I used to do this to take a picture and put it in my permanent memory album.”
Caleb’s face contorts before he gets it under control. He bows his head to get it closer. Running my fingers through his hair, his head snaps up and I’m now cupping his chin. His lips brush the center of my palm, the tingle that courses through my system raising all the fine hairs on my skin. It’s both the softest and warmest of caresses.
“You truly are the strongest person I’ve ever met, Cassidy Freeman. I want a chance. Just the chance,” Caleb’s voice rasps in the dark between us.
“A chance for what?” But I know. His dark eyes meet mine, not saying the words. Instead, his head lowers and our lips brush together with an unspoken promise made between us. To give this a chance. Breaking away, our eyes are locked on each other, our breathing ragged. The basest parts of each of us is out there on the table and neither of us are running.
I want this. I want the dreams I wished on the furthest stars, the fantasies I’ve only been able to imagine by reading what came from someone else’s imagination. I want to spend the time getting to know this man, to lie in his arms. I eventually want to run my hands all over his body and taste him. His face reflects the same. And before I know it, the word I never expected to hear comes out of my mouth.
“Stay.”
His face shows his hunger and his pain. I can see inside of him now. It’s like I’m connected to him in a way I’m not even to my family. It’s his greatest wish, his biggest fear. He wants nothing more, but doesn’t want to move too fast. Fortunately, neither do I, so I quickly put him at ease. Who would have thought I would be the one putting him at ease?
“Not for that, Caleb.” I roll my eyes at him. “I just don’t want to let you go right now and it’s getting too cold to stay out here. Stay and hold me tonight…maybe?” I take a deep breath, letting him in a little bit more. “Maybe if you’re here, the dreams won’t come tonight.”
The tender smile that crosses his face before he pushes off of me is worth every butterfly dancing in my stomach. Pulling me up, he wraps me in his arms, rocking me back and forth slowly.
“Let put the food away and find out.”
17
Cassidy
“So, who was the little trollop with a Porsche parked outside her door all Saturday night and didn’t get into the office until late Sunday?” Phil singsongs as he comes into the farm, swinging two bottles of wine on Wednesday. Jason comes in behind him and gives me a look of pity. Having just heard something similar from Corinna and Ali, I merely shake my head as I continue to chop lettuce for the salad.
There are times like these when the tradition of family dinner is a trial as well as a blessing.
It’s not like they didn’t try to subtly grill me when I showed up at the office at ten versus my typical seven the next morning. It’s not like I missed a client. It’s not like they didn’t have a permanent smirk on their faces all day as I walked around with coffee, trying to generate some energy from a night of little sleep. It’s not like their faces weren’t over my shoulder when I read the card that merely said “Caleb” when the vase filled with a single perfect amaryllis arrived on Monday, or the basket of key lime cookies from Stew Leonard’s on Tuesday. No, they were savoring this family dinner for all it was worth.
Based on the way they were already behaving, burgers were not the only thing about to be grilled.
Sighing, I move the second head of lettuce into the big serving bowl. Grabbing the chef’s knife and bell peppers, I slice the tops off and begin slicing out the core of seeds while listening to my siblings make subtle taunting comments back and forth over me. Don’t they realize by now that I’ll talk only when I’m ready to? Chopping faster than I was before, I make quick work of the rest of the salad fixings. A shadow crosses in front of me and I quickly glance up, chef’s knife appearing as if I’m ready to do battle. Jason just shakes his head and hands me a glass of wine, a smile on his handsome face. Not for the first time, I think to myself that Phil should spend more time on his knees thanking God for Jason. Raising the glass in a toast to Jason, I lean on my elbows before taking a long sip.
I wonder how much longer they’ll give me before my privacy is stormed like the beaches of Normandy.
I don’t have to wait long.
We’re around the informal dining room table having just passed the salad around when Phil starts. “Well?” he demands, king to peasant.
Just to be a pain in his ass, I delay the inevitable. Seeing three identical faces on my younger sisters and sympathy on Em and Jason’s, I deadpan, “A well is a hole dug in the ground in order to remove water, or maybe oil…”
Em spits her wine across the table into Phil’s face before laughing hysterically.
Phil looks at her distastefully before reaching in his lap for a napkin to mop up the mess. The rest of the table breaks into gales of laughter. Phil says with utter disgust, “Seriously, you know she has no mouth control.”
Swirling my wine around my glass, I glance at Em, whose eyes are sparkling with mirth before saying to Phil, “Is that why you like sitting across from her? You like having wet things randomly hitting you in the face? I didn’t know you and Jason upped your kink level, Whirlpool.” The table erupts again. Dinner has now officially gone into the toilet.
Phil levels his gaze on me, knowing exactly what I’m doing—defer, evade, deflect. I’ve been doing a fine job of it since Monday. I really don’t see a reason why it can’t continue. But no, big brother, king of all he surveys, wants to know details. Details I still haven’t fully processed myself
yet.
Completely zoning out my family, I replay some of the things Caleb and I exposed about ourselves this weekend in my mind. Nothing. No sense of panic. I feel nothing but the essence of Caleb’s strong arms wrapped around me when we woke up Sunday morning. We’ve seen or talked to each other every night since. One night, we had take-out dinner from Genoa in Ridgefield after he got done late at the office. Another was when we were at the caterer’s tasting for the rehearsal dinner and yakked it up with Ryan and Jared. Last night, we were on the phone for hours.
Though we haven’t spent the night together since, we’ve talked enough I feel the emotional bonds that grabbed me over the weekend perpetually wrapped around me.
The pull of something neither of us expected and both want.
Suddenly, the silence around the dinner table permeates through my haze. Shit. I lost the most important thing in a critical meeting. Control.
Phil is triumphant knowing I left myself open for a barrage of questions from my family. Corinna, Holly, and Ali all lean forward like a pack of lions, ready swoop in to take down their prey. Em opens her mouth, then shuts it, shrugs, and waits. I look down the table at Jason. He’s the only one who appears pained by what I’m about to endure. He may be curious, but he’s witnessed the date interrogation before. It’s no picnic. Unlike me, Phil feels there are no boundaries to what he can and can’t ask his sisters about their dates. From dinner, to whether there was desert after dinner, and did it have curvature to the left or to the right, Phil wants the details.
It’s a damn shame he can’t ask this level of detail about things like business. We might have taken over a small country with his inquisition skills by now.
“It’s none of your damn business, Phillip,” I snap, on the offensive. Will that buy me more time? Doubtful. There’s a collective sputter of laughter around the table at the futile effort. My sisters have tried this and failed at his invasive tactics.
Free to Dream Page 16
