by Banks, R. R.
“It's not that I don't appreciate you taking care of me,” I say. “But shouldn't the big sister be taking care of the little one? Shouldn't this thing be the other way around?”
Brooke shrugs. “We take care of each other,” she says. “Believe me, there are plenty of times when you're the one picking me up.”
I take one last look back at Caleb, still standing with Rick's folks talking, before turning and letting Brooke lead me to the parking lot. In the distance, I see somebody standing among the headstones, well away from Rick's gravesite. The man is just standing there – staring at me. And then it dawns on me.
“Oh, my God,” I mutter.
Brooke looks over and sees what – or rather, who – I saw. “Yeah, because that's not totally creepy or anything.”
James apparently watched the funeral from a distance. Or more likely, was watching me from a distance. The sight of him standing out there, silently watching me, sent a cold chill down my spine and I couldn't suppress the shudder that passed through me.
“I need a drink,” Brooke announces. “And so, do you.”
I glance at my watch. “It's only three in the afternoon.”
She shrugs. “After the shitstorm these last few days have been, we deserve it,” she says. “And you probably deserve a double – or twelve.”
Chapter Twenty
Abby
The Wagon is bristling with people when we walk in. It's tough to find a seat, but we manage – a booth near the back. Something about a funeral – even when you don't know the person all that well – that drives people to drink. It almost seems like a rite of passage or something.
And the fact that the Wagon is stuffed to the gills with people is grimly ironic and maybe even a little tasteless, given the fact that that Rick was killed by a drunk driver. Which is also why I asked for a lemonade instead of alcohol. My way of paying respects to the deceased. It's a small, useless gesture, but it's all I can do at the moment.
Surprisingly – given that coming out for a drink was her suggestion – Brooke follows my lead and orders a Coke.
“No Captain Morgan with that?” I tease.
“Ha, no,” she says, rubbing her temples. “I have a busy day tomorrow at the store and I don't want to be hungover. Besides, it seems a little – distasteful to be drinking after Rick's funeral, considering the circumstances and all don't you think?”
“I couldn't agree more,” I say, sipping my pathetic excuse for a lemonade.
I grimace as I take a long swallow of the stuff. It's pretty much just lemon-flavored water – calling it lemonade is a pretty big stretch. But then, what do I really expect from a bar? Most people here only drink the lemonade when it's mixed with something stronger anyway.
“I'm proud of you, sis,” Brooke says suddenly. “I didn't think you were ever going to get rid of James, but you did. And I'm glad. You deserve so much more.”
I give her a little smile. “Thanks,” I reply. “If not for running into Caleb like I did – well – running into him not only pissed me off, but it really made me open my eyes and come to a few realizations about things.”
Brooke's eyes soften as she reaches across the table and takes my hands. “So how are you doing, sis?” she asks. “I mean, how are you really?”
“I'm fine,” I say. “All things considered, you know. I did just attend a funeral for a friend who died too young, but –”
“Not that,” she groans. “You know what I mean.”
I do. I know all too well what she's talking about. She wants to know how I'm doing in regard to seeing Caleb. And honestly, I'm not entirely sure how I'm doing in regard to that.
I stare down at my lemonade and think about the question. How do I feel? It's a complicated question, one I don't even have the answer to just yet. When I saw him, I immediately felt all those old feelings again – hurt, betrayal, and sadness.
When I saw him, I was angry and filled with rage. I wanted to kick him in the balls, smack him across the face, and maybe even punch him in the nose. But I also wanted him to walk over to me, wrap me in those big strong arms and kiss me, apologizing for all the years we'd missed because he'd been a total and complete jackass. That he'd done me wrong.
It was a small part of me that wanted that – a very small part – but I'd be lying if I said it didn't exist.
But I had no idea how to really communicate any of that to my sister. There is still so much I'm sorting through and processing and I have no idea exactly what I'm feeling. I'm a mess at the moment.
“I honestly don't know,” I say, giving her a shrug.
I meet Brooke's gaze and notice she's staring at something behind me. Part of me freaks out, assuming it's Caleb, but then she leans forward and whispers, her voice sounding urgent.
“You did break things off with James, didn't you?”
“Yeah, why?” I ask, slowly turning and looking behind me.
Brooke didn't even need to answer me, because when I turn around, James is standing right there. And he's walking this way with a large bouquet of flowers in his hands.
“Unbelievable,” I mutter under my breath. “Just unbelievable.”
Planting my face in my hands, I lower my head. I just want to hide. I have no desire to deal with him today. Especially not today.
“Hi Brooke,” James says quietly. “And Abby, I'm sorry about your friend. I came by to pay my respects.”
Brooke raises an eyebrow and looks over at me, waiting for me to respond.
“Yeah, thanks, James,” I say with a polite smile.
I'm hoping that maybe he's just going to say his piece and then leave us alone afterward. But no, of course he doesn't. He stands there awkwardly.
“Here, I got these for you,” he says, handing me the flowers.
I look at the bouquet and shake my head. It's filled with some of my favorite flowers – lilies. He knows me well. And he obviously thinks he can manipulate me with them.
“Uh thank you,” I say, placing the flowers on the table. “Listen, James, I really don't feel like talking right now –”
“But – why not?” he asks.
“Because I just left the funeral of a friend and now just isn't the time, James,” I say.
I look at Brooke for some help. She catches on a moment later and jumps in to save me.
“Yeah, not only that, we're having a little sister time,” she says, “So, if you don't mind –”
“I do mind, actually,” he says. “I have something to say and it's only going to take a minute. Abby, we really need to talk about what happened, and it can't wait. I'm sorry, Brooke, but your sister and I really need to hash some things out. Whatever problems you seem to think exist can be worked through. I'm not ready to have things end like this.”
“Well, you don't have much of a choice, James,” I say. “Because I am ready. I've ended things, and that's that, so –”
He grabs my hand and yanks me to a standing position before I even know what's happening. I try to break free from his grasp, but he has a tight grip on my wrist and I can't pull away. I look at him with fury in my eyes.
“No, Abby,” he says. “We need to talk. Now.”
His voice rises to nearly a shout, and he didn't even sound like the man I knew. Not at all.
“James, let go of me,” I say, my own voice growing louder and almost everyone at the Wagon is stopping their own conversations to stare at us.
Brooke stands up and tries to reason with him, “James, let her go,” she says. “It's time to move on. She's not into things with you anymore. You can't do this –”
“Like hell I can't,” he growls, his eyes full of rage as he looks over at Brooke. “Come on, Abby. We need to talk. Somewhere private.”
He's trying to pull me away from the table and toward the door, yanking my arm so hard I'm afraid he's going to pull it from the socket. I'm fighting the entire time, hoping that I can either break free or that maybe he will come to his senses and let me go. People are staring at
us, but nobody is stepping into intervene. Nobody is stepping in to help me.
And suddenly, I'm afraid. Very afraid. James never gave me reason to suspect he was anything but a quiet, boring pharmacist. He's always been a nice, sweet, and for the most part, a considerate and kind man. But now, I was seeing a different side of him. A side that frightened me.
“Let me go now, James,” I say. “Or I'm going to press charges –”
We reach the door of the Wagon and I continue to struggle. And before I know what happens, someone steps in, coming in from out of nowhere to block it.
It's Caleb. I stop fighting against James’ grasp and stare at the large man in front of us, my heart literally stuttering in my chest as I meet his gaze.
“You heard the lady,” Caleb says. “Let her go, now.”
“Who do you think you are?” James argues. “Waltzing into this town and disrupting everything? You have no right to –”
“Let her go,” Caleb repeats. “Now. Before you make me force you to let her go.”
James holds on tight, yanking me closer to him almost defensively. I half expect him to claim me by saying, “She's mine. Mine. All mine!” but he doesn't.
Instead, he stands firm, staring at Caleb with a look of pure hatred upon his face. He doesn't believe Caleb will do anything to him. Not here. But he didn't know Caleb and James was making a very grave tactical mistake. Even the old Caleb – the one without the size or the military training he was rumored to have – would have been hard pressed to let someone get away with something like this.
And I'm right. He still won't.
Caleb moves forward, stepping up so that he's chest to chest with James. Caleb is bigger and broader than James, so he's literally looming over him. James isn't a short man, not by any means, but Caleb made him look like a midget. James also worked out, was in pretty decent shape. But then, as fit as he is, he's nothing compared to Caleb, who looks like he was simply carved out of granite.
“Are you seriously going to walk in here and treat Abby like this?” Caleb asks. “Not only treat her like this, but then turn around and think you're going to get away with it?”
“It's personal,” James says. “This is between Abby and me. So, you should probably butt out of our business.”
“Uh huh, well it looks to me like Abby doesn't want to go with you,” Caleb says. “And shouldn't she get a say in this?”
James doesn't say anything else, he merely tries to push his way past Caleb. Big mistake. When James makes contact with him, Caleb grabs hold of the smaller man's shoulder and stops him in his tracks. And when James turns around, throwing a wild haymaker at him, Caleb easily sidesteps it and laughs.
It's effective though. James, his face a mask of rage, drops my hand, steps up and takes another wild swing at him – and misses again. He's trying to bait Caleb into a fight – but all Caleb does is stand there and laugh, letting James look like a fool with his wild punches. After a few moments and several missed punches, James stops. He stares daggers at Caleb – who gives him a wide smile in return.
“My turn,” Caleb says.
He steps up and with one punch, to the right side of his face, Caleb drops James right there on the floor of the Wagon.
My ex-boyfriend falls to the ground, clutching his nose. There is blood oozing out from between his fingers, and he's moaning in agony – and looking at me with intense hatred all at the same time. Other than what looks like it'll probably end up being a broken nose, he otherwise looks okay. I look up at Caleb and he looks back at me, a smirk on his handsome face.
“Hey, Abby,” he says. “Nice to see you again.”
I am speechless. Utterly speechless.
Chapter Twenty-One
Someone escorts James from the bar and I stand there, staring at Caleb, still unable to speak. There's so much anger bubbling underneath the surface within me, so much I want to say to him – but I can't even form a coherent thought, let alone form intelligible words.
Brooke comes up behind me. “Thank you for the save, Caleb,” she says. “That bastard needed someone to knock his lights out. What a douche.”
“Happy to help,” Caleb says, shooting a shy smile in my direction.
Brooke looks at me, then back at Caleb, and smiles. “Would you like to join us for a drink, Caleb?”
No, no, no... I think to myself. At the same time, I'm hoping he doesn't, I'm arguing within myself because there's a part of me that's thinking yes, please join us . My thinking – not to mention my judgment – seem to be impaired and I can't make up my mind.
Caleb looks at me, as if waiting to see what I say. I shrug and try to appear nonchalant about it.
“It's the least we can do after you stepped in and saved me.”
His smile grows wider. “Then I'd love to.”
Great , I think to myself as the three of us go back to our table. Brooke shoots me a look that seems to ask if I've gone out of my mind. But, Caleb grabs a chair and pushes it up beside me, and I can't stop staring at him. He's just so gorgeous. More so now than he was even way back then. He's filled out a lot and his boyish face has been replaced by one with more curves and angles. He's no longer the cute high school boy – he's a gorgeous, fit and incredibly sexy man.
Brooke, thankfully, gets the conversation going. “So, Caleb, why don't you tell us where you've been the last twelve years or so? Inquiring minds are dying to know.”
She winks at me as if to say she's got my back, but I scowl. Not at her though. I'm so conflicted, confused, and upset, that I'm scowling at just about everything right now.
Caleb looks over at me. “Well, I uhhh,” he stammers, then looks down at his hands. “When I left, I joined the Corps. I spent twelve years in the service and afterward, I settled down in Southern California for a bit.”
“So, you just up and vanished without a word to anybody,” Brooke says. “And you enlisted in the Marine Corps?”
He nods. “Yeah,” he says simply. “That's about it.”
“That sounds insane,” she says.
“I just needed to get away from this place, you know?” he replies.
“Oh yeah?” I say, finally finding my voice. “Sheridan Falls that horrific of a place for you?”
Brooke nearly chokes on her soda, staring at me with a mischievous smile and a devious look in her eyes. She set the table and she thought I was moving in for the kill.
“You left it too,” he says with a shrug. “Can't be all that wonderful if you're willing to move all the way to New York City. Speaking of which, how's the old man? Heard you got hitched.”
I flinch as if someone had slapped me across the face. The pain of seeing Caleb was all too real, but the added burn from his comment about my failed marriage didn't help matters any. It's as if he wants to take a shot at me every bit as bad as I want to take a shot at him. As if he's the injured party here. Please.
“I wouldn't know how he is,” I say. “He's still in New York City. Haven't talked to him since the divorce was finalized.”
This time, it was Caleb's turn to cringe and look abashed. Almost ashamed. Score one for me.
“I'm sorry,” he says softly. “I didn't know. I heard –”
“Don't be sorry,” I say with a dry laugh. “It is what it is. I just wanted to get out of here and move on with my life after – well, after. And Brett was the first person I met after school and moving to New York –”
I stop before I finish that sentence. Brett was the first man I dated after Caleb ran off and left me. But I don't want him thinking he hurt me that badly. Or that he meant so much to me that I'd just go and marry the first man I met to rid myself of his memory. I didn't want him to think that because obviously I didn't mean that much to him. Not if he could just leave me like that. Without an explanation. Without so much as a goodbye.
“Abby, seriously, I'm sorry,” he says, his voice softening, a sheepish look on his face, “I had no idea you were divorced or I wouldn't have said that. I know I can be a
n ass, but even I have limits.”
“Do you?” I ask, biting my lip as I stare at him. “Because I don't think you do. I mean, you did ghost a girl you claimed to love and never bothered to tell her why. So honestly, I don't know what you're actually capable of or what your supposed limits are.”
Caleb doesn't say anything. He stares at his beer and remains quiet, almost as if he can't find the words. But Caleb has never had a problem with finding words. He could talk until the cows came home. His has always been more of a problem trying to find the right words.
I look over at Brooke, suddenly remembering she was still there. I feel bad for dredging up the past and making things at the table tense and awkward. This is supposed to be sister time, after all. She takes my hand in hers and gives me an encouraging smile. I think she knows that after all these years, I'm entitled to some answers for the hell he put me through.
“I think I'm going to head home,” she says. “I have to be at the store early, and it might be nice to let the two of you reconnect without having a third wheel around.”
Part of me wants to urge her to stay. Or to even leave with her. But I don't budge from my seat. I'm on fire, burning up inside and I want some answers. I want to know why Caleb did what he did.
“Alright, sis,” I say, squeezing her hand. “I'll stop by the store tomorrow and help out. Drive safe.”
She nods and slips away as quickly as possible, leaving me alone with Caleb. As I stare at my lemonade, I'm suddenly wishing I had something stronger. I'm just about to wave down the bartender and order something that will dull all these feelings when Caleb reaches out and takes my hand.
“I mean it when I say I'm sorry, Abby,” he says. “What I did was fucked up. I know that. But believe it or not, I had my reasons. You know my family. Know what my life was like here. I hope you can understand why I needed to escape –”
“But couldn't you have escaped with me? Couldn't we have left together?” I ask. “Like we always talked about. You and me starting a life together. Staring somewhere new. Fresh.”
