by K. Ryan
"I still remember that day. He saunters in the library with all that swagger, all pissed off with that huge chip on his shoulder, leans up against the desk, and goes, 'Hey, uh, can I get some help here?'"
I laughed in spite of everything and shook my head. "Yeah, that sounds like something he'd say."
"He really was a punk, wasn't he? What the hell did you ever see in him back then? Never mind, don't answer that. Anyway, let's just say that if I hadn't been lookin' for something to do that day, I might've told him to stick it where the sun don't shine. But I was bored, so I grabbed a few books for him, thinking I'd probably never see them again, and a week later, he was back. And then he came back again. And again until we finally got to talking about what he was really doing in that library and why."
Saul paused, gauging my reaction and trying to see if I knew.
"I think he might've written to you about that," he went on with a small smile and a not-so-subtle nudge, "I guess his counselor told him he needed to find a way to use his time productively instead of getting into fights and getting his ass killed. He got into a pretty nasty one within the first couple of months he was there—pissed off the wrong Aryan brother was what I heard—but I guess that's one of the hazards of being in an MC and being in prison at the same time."
My breath hitched in my throat at the thought of Caleb getting into fights, of putting himself in danger like that without even caring about what might happen to him, and I closed my eyes to force myself to wipe those images from my mind.
"I used to think it was just because he was mad at the world," Saul added. "And then one day, I was the one having a shit day. It was just one of those days where it was all I could to just get out of bed. I needed some absolution and a priest and I guess I got Caleb instead. And when he came in that day looking for another Stephen King book, asked me what was up my ass, it all came pouring out. Jesus, we must've talked for hours that day. I told him things I'd never told anyone before—all those deep, dark feelings of hate and self-loathing just fell out and then it was like the dam broke. We traded stories and I got it then. I got why I always managed to set aside his shit attitude and why he kept coming back: we saw something in each other we recognized. We just didn't know what it was until that day."
I sighed heavily and stared down at my toes. When he first started talking, I'd known this wasn't going to be easy to hear, but now that we'd come to this part of the story, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to handle hearing it.
"I've never seen anyone carry that kind of guilt, that kind of self-loathing—he completely owned everything too, all the missteps, all the piss-poor decisions, he knew none of that fell on anyone's shoulders but his. He just looked like every word, every move took something out of him and I felt like I was looking in a mirror. After that, things started to get a little better for both of us, I think. When he started workin' on that degree, it gave both of us a purpose, something to hope for, something to live for even if I was just sort of living vicariously through him with it. And when he came to see me a month after he got out and told me his plan to leave the club and that I'd have a job as soon as I got out, I believed him. He came to see me every week until he picked me up the day I got out and I've never looked back."
By this point, we were already sitting in the pharmacy's parking lot, but I couldn't move if I tried.
"The only time I ever saw any light in him, I mean real light," Saul glanced at me with a wistful smile, "was when he talked about you. I've never seen anyone so devoted to a woman...definitely never felt anything close to that for either of my wives, that's for sure. If he wasn't in the library reading or studying with me, he was telling me stories about you or he was writing to you. That's pretty much how he spent his time in prison."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "I appreciate you telling me all this, but how he spent his time in prison doesn't change our history."
Saul sighed and nodded sadly. "He'll probably try to murder me in my sleep for telling you this, but I'm gonna do it anyway. The last night he spent in that house he bought for you, he spent it in that third bedroom, the one that was supposed to be your nursery. I only know that 'cuz I saw the half-finished mural you painted in there and because the stupid son of a bitch left his pillow and blanket on the floor when I came to help him move. I'm not just telling you all this because I love that kid like he's my own son, Isabelle, I'm telling you all this because I figured you should know."
My chest heaved in and out, but I still couldn't find any words.
Saul cocked an eyebrow at me. "You wanna know what I think?"
I meant to shake my head, but found myself nodding numbly instead.
"I think life has a way of working itself out. Now, maybe you don't get there the way you thought you would and maybe you don't even end up where you expected, but you always get there at the right place and the right time because that's exactly where you're supposed to be."
The words hung in the air, heavy and almost suffocating. I couldn't breathe and the truck just seemed to grow smaller and smaller the longer I sat in here.
"I, um," I rubbed my hands on my jeans anxiously and sucked in a deep breath. "I should go inside."
Saul probably nodded, but I didn't stick around long enough to see. I got out of that truck as fast as my feet could carry me.
. . .
The next morning, I just couldn't pull myself out of bed. I normally set an alarm for seven at the earliest just so I had plenty of time to check my emails, get some coffee going, and shower before my dad needed his meds and his breakfast. For reasons I wasn't ready to acknowledge, my body just wouldn't cooperate today.
Maybe part of it was because I knew Saul was still here, crashing on the couch, and that I had a little backup in case something happened. Maybe part of it, too, was because my body had finally succumbed to the stress, the pain, and the heartache. Maybe I just didn't want to face whatever waited for me today. Whatever it was, I probably wasn't going to like it.
And then I heard it.
That unmistakable roar of a lawn mower screamed through my window and I shot up in bed. It wasn't the roar I'd been expecting—from the sounds of it, there were no motorcycles around—but that wasn't my dad out there in the yard.
All my sleepiness shook out at that stupid sound and I leapt out of bed to skid down the stairs to the window right next to the front door. My eyes tore around the yard to take inventory of anything out of the ordinary. Saul's truck was long gone and my dad's BMW sat in its place. This wasn't a good sign. Finally, my gaze found what I'd been looking for and dreading at the same time. There, driving around the riding lawn mower like he owned the place, was the bane of my existence.
Some rustling to my left had me jumping practically two feet in the air.
"I guess he decided to get an early start, huh?"
My head snapped to my dad, who peered out of the window next to me.
"What?"
He just lifted a shoulder. "He called me this morning to see what needed to be done around the house. I gave him a whole list of things I've been meaning to get done for a long time, but for some reason, I just haven't gotten around to it, you know?"
There was a slight mischievous twinkle in his eye I hadn't seen in a long time and I might've cried, or at the very least, thrown my arms around him, if he wasn't such a backstabber.
But because my mind was still playing catch-up, I played along.
"Like what?"
"Oh, you know," he told me a little too easily. "Pretty much all the yard work, there's that old ATV in the shed. You remember that thing? He's gonna fix it up so you can get some money for it. The faucet in the upstairs bathroom is still leaky, all those boxes in my office need to go somewhere, the basement needs to be cleared out...there're a ton of things that need to be done before you can sell this place."
"Dad, we can pay someone to do all those things for us."
"Sure," he shrugged and gestured to the window. "But why spend your money when he's just
going to do it for free? Besides, I don't see you doing any of it."
I narrowed my eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He was on pretty shaky ground with me right now and when he held his hands up in defense, he seemed to know it, too.
"Hey, someone has to do it. And you shouldn't have to, not with everything else you have on your plate right now. You're spending all your time and energy taking care of me, but who's taking care of you?"
And there it was.
"Dad," I huffed exasperatedly. "I love you, but I really don't like you right now."
He just lifted a shoulder, like all of this really wasn't a big deal, like Caleb being here was just a foregone conclusion. "Oh well. Hey, you want any coffee?"
I gaped at him. Then he just turned on his heel and headed back into the kitchen. No big deal. Nothing out of the ordinary happening here.
My eyes snapped back to the window to find Caleb spinning the lawn mower around some landscaping in the middle of the yard. He looked into the window at the exact right moment, or maybe the exact wrong moment, and shot me a cocky, shit-eating grin as he waved at me. Finally, something just snapped.
"Oh, hell no," I muttered to myself as I threw open the door and stalked across the yard to stand my ground right in the lawn mower's path.
Caleb shut off the mower just as quickly and leaned forward on the steering wheel, amusement quirking his lips. "Morning, Iz. I like the PJs."
My eyes shot down to my attire: a tiny pair of sleep shorts and a barely-there tank top. Right about now, I was really glad I'd thrown on a yoga bra last night. He didn't move from his perch on the lawn mower, his eyes trailing up and down my body, taking in every inch of bare skin I'd unwittingly put on display.
Who the hell did he think he was just barging into my life like this? Did he really think he could just show up uninvited, do some chores around the house and then, poof, I'd just forget everything?
It shouldn't have even started in the first place because the man in front of me was a weakness. As much as I wanted to attribute everything that had gone wrong in my life to Caleb, the only one really to blame was me. My choices had brought me to this. I never should've invited him out to the swing-set with me. Never should've kissed him. Never should've agreed to spend the night with him. Everything just escalated from there and spun completely out of control.
Well, it was time to grab hold of that control and put my foot down.
I charged right for him, smirking at the way Caleb's eyebrows danced up his forehead in surprise. He didn't get to come and go from my life whenever he felt like it and he didn't get to suddenly decide to give a shit just because I'd pulled the plug on whatever it was we'd been doing the last couple of days.
"Hey," I called out sharply. "What do you think you're doing?"
That lazy, unbelievably sexy, crooked grin curved his lips and I was somewhere in between grabbing him by the collar to jump him and punching him in the face.
"What does it look like?" Caleb shot back easily and rocked back on in the chair as he gestured to the yard with his head. "I'm mowing the lawn."
"No, you're not."
"Oh, yes I am."
I blew out a shaky breath, balling my fists up at my thighs. This route clearly wasn't the way to go. We weren't kids anymore and we could handle this like the mature adults we were, couldn't we?
"Caleb," I tried again, slowly and a little gentler this time. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I don't need you doing all this stuff here at the house. You've got more important things to worry about right now like getting your shop back in order. I can pay someone to do all this. Just go home, okay?"
The hard shift in his cerulean eyes told me I'd probably just made things worse.
"I'm not going anywhere, Iz," Caleb informed me pointedly. "At least not anywhere you're not."
"Come on," I tried again, flailing my arms out in front of my in a weak attempt to keep him at bay. "Nobody likes having to do all this kinda stuff, especially if you don't have to."
"I may not necessarily like mowing the lawn or anything else like that," Caleb shot back with an easy shrug. "But I sure do like you. In fact, I love you. I'm pretty sure I'll survive."
"Can we not do this?"
He just smirked and lifted a shoulder. "You started it."
So it was going to be like that. Fine.
"Do you want me to hate you? Is that what you want? Because if it is, you're doing a really good job of making that happen."
At least that seemed to get the reaction I was looking for because his features softened and his eyes shone with remorse. But when he jumped off the lawn mower and took a hesitant step toward me, I instinctively moved to put more distance between us. At this point I just needed to use my head and protect what was left of my heart.
"I'm sorry, Iz," Caleb murmured, his voice hoarse and thick. "That's not what I want. I know you don't feel that way, but I'm not doing this to make your life harder. You need someone here with you and you can't take all this on by yourself. I'm not gonna let you do it anymore."
"You know what really pisses me off?" I didn't wait for a response and charged ahead, gesturing toward the house. "I need to be in there right now with him for as long as I can because I don't have that much time left. And instead of doing that, I'm out here, arguing with you and wasting that time."
"I hear you," he nodded tersely and when his fingers brushed my forearm to pull me in closer, my body just wouldn't move. I wanted to bolt and sprint inside, leaving him and everything else behind, but my body stood frozen to the grass because my brain short-circuited the moment his fingers touched my skin.
"Look, Iz," Caleb went on softly, his blue eyes imploring and impassioned. "I've spent the better part of these last six years trying to figure out how to earn the right to have you in my life and all I had to do was pick up the damn phone. I've made so many mistakes with you I lost count—I never should've pushed you away, I should've got down on my hands and knees and begged you to take me back after I got out of prison, I should've come to see you in New York the second I decided to leave the club, but I'm done with that, Iz. I know you don't trust me right now, but all I'm asking is that you give me a chance to earn it back."
When my lips parted to protest, Caleb closed both calloused hands around my cheeks and kissed me with an ardent, whirlwind force that threatened to buckle my knees. By the end of it, I would've been a puddle on the grass if his hands hadn't been keeping me upright. When he finally tore his lips away, he leaned his forehead into mine, his chest heaving and I shivered at the feel of his breath brushing against my lips.
He lifted his forehead so he could look me right in the eye and the determination I found there was almost enough to topple my resolve completely.
"I want the life we're supposed to have together," Caleb whispered, his eyes never leaving mine as he spoke. "I want you to be my wife. I want you to be the mother of my children. I want to love you until the day I die, Iz, because there's no other way I can spend my life. I don't care what I have to do or how long I have to wait to do it. Wherever you are, that's where I'm gonna be."
His words enveloped me, warming my insides and squeezing me tight. At this point, it was difficult to tell where he ended and I began. There was too much in everything he'd just said to focus on all at once and so, in a vain attempt at self-preservation, I pulled away completely.
"You can't make promises you can't keep, Caleb, even if you want to," I sighed and scrubbed a hand over my face. "Too much has happened. I just don't know if I'll ever be able to forget and playing these games now isn't fair to either of us."
"This isn't a game to me," his eyes blazed with each word. "You're it for me, Isabelle. It's always been you and it always will be. There's a reason we've just gravitated toward each other since you came back. There's a reason we're standing here right now. You can deny it until you're blue in the face, but at the end of the day, you know it's true."
There was also a r
eason why I hadn't had a panic attack during or after the break-in two nights ago.
I wasn't stupid. I was in denial. And that was perfectly fine.
"Caleb," I tried again, desperate to resolve this once and for all, desperate for him to just give me some space. "I don't want you to think this is going to end any other way than me back in New York and you still here in Claremont. I don't want to give you false hope and—"
"Isabelle," Caleb cut me off sharply. "Sooner or later, you're just going to have to realize that you're stuck with me. I'm not going away. And I'm not going to let you deal with all this by yourself anymore. It's just not happening. You need me here with you, Iz. You just can't admit it yet."
"Caleb, I—"
"Iz," both of his hands closed around my face to force me to look at him, to force me to see, "I could give you everything you need, be everything you want. I feel like we've both been stuck in limbo, but we don't have to put our lives on hold anymore. We could have everything, Iz. You just have to give me a chance to prove it to you."
My lips parted and before I even had a chance to consider responding, he leaned forward and pressed a hard, penetrating kiss on my lips. When his hands finally slipped away from my face, I stumbled backward a few paces, desperate for some breathing room. My brain felt foggy and heavy with everything he'd just laid on me and for the life of me, I couldn't find the words to respond.
And now, with my chest heaving and my pulse thundering through my veins, the only word I wanted to say was "okay". The problem was I wasn't so sure what I'd exactly be agreeing to, so I just sucked in a deep breath, shifted on my heel, and headed back inside the house.
I took the stairs two-by-two to get back inside my room and shut the door behind me. Against my better judgment, I found myself edging closer to the window when the lawn mower screamed back to life.
My heart flip-flopped in my stomach as my eyes found him, perched on the seat again with his phone in his hand. About two seconds later, my phone buzzed next to my nightstand and Caleb lifted his head up to my window. He waved to me with a bright, reassuring grin spread across his handsome face. It was really everything I needed to see, but couldn't at the same time. My lips quivered and I had to bite down on my bottom lip just to keep myself from bursting into quiet sobs.
