Chasing Red Series, Book 1

by Isabelle Ronin

  Was Caleb home yet?

  If he was, I wanted him to wait for me a little longer, so I went window-shopping. I knew it was petty, but I didn’t like how I’d felt when he left with Beatrice-Rose. I also didn’t like how pathetic and whiny I sounded in my head. Was I punishing myself or him by not going home yet?

  Suddenly, I stopped in my tracks and stared. In a shop display window, I spotted a miniature key chain of a stack of pancakes with whipped cream and strawberries on top. Caleb would get a kick out of it. Feeling giddy, I entered the store and homed in on my prize. I lifted the key chain and checked the price. Not too expensive. Grinning, I bought the key chain and had it boxed and wrapped.

  I was changing, I thought, as I stepped out of the mall and into the rain. I was opening up more because of Caleb. He made me feel safe.

  People started to run inside buildings, seeking shelter from the wet. Caleb said he used to play in the rain when he was a kid. To protect them, I wrapped the gift and my new phone securely in the plastic bag and stuffed it in my jacket pocket. I decided to walk and let the rain drench me. I wished he was here.

  The rain washing over me made me feel calm, but something was off. My skin prickled, the hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I was just itching to look around me and sweep the area for any suspicious figure. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  When Mom passed away, I moved into a rented room in a boarding house. The rent was cheap, and I had to share the room with two other people. There was a guy renting the room across from ours who had stalked me…

  I slowed my steps, feeling uneasy. It felt like someone was following me. Damn it, I’d forgotten to bring my pocketknife. I was too distracted earlier to remember to bring it.

  No use feeling sorry about that now, I thought, as my heart started to accelerate. I balled my hands into angry fists and got ready to attack. But when I looked back, there was no one behind me but a few pedestrians crossing the road and three people in the bus shelter.

  It was getting dark fast. I should have called a taxi earlier, but now it was only two more blocks to Caleb’s building. I could make it. Besides, there were still people around. I could call for help if there was trouble.

  I walked faster. When I heard footsteps getting closer behind me, I spun around and screamed as a dark figure brushed past me. Panicked, I tripped over my own feet at the stranger’s slight push and sprawled to the ground. I scraped my palms on the asphalt as I tried to catch myself.

  The dark figure didn’t even look back.

  False alarm, I thought, my heart in my throat as I slumped in relief. I glanced at my palms and saw they were bleeding. Damn it. I got up slowly and checked to make sure I wasn’t bleeding anywhere else. Other than my scratched palms, I was okay. I pulled my sleeves down, wiping the blood on them.

  I squawked in alarm when I remembered Caleb’s present. Frantically, I reached into my jacket pocket, blowing out a relieved breath when I felt the box’s intact shape.

  It didn’t escape me how ridiculous it was to be more concerned about a key chain than my expensive new phone. Maybe because it was a present for Caleb. I’d never given him one before.

  When I spotted Caleb’s building, I quickly ran inside, hoping Caleb was home. I realized how much he’d always been there for me. How I never had to look for him because he was always there. But now that I’d arrived at his place and realized he wasn’t home, I felt anxious.

  My heart felt a little empty.

  Should I call him?

  That would be nagging, wouldn’t it? What were the boundaries in a relationship? The rules? I sucked at this.

  I argued with myself as I took care of my cuts, cleaned around the house a bit more, showered, and changed. He’d be home soon enough.

  I held the small present in my hand, feeling slightly embarrassed. How do I give it to him? What should I say? Too cowardly, I decided to leave it on his bedside table instead, with a quick thank-you note tucked under it.

  Grabbing a book, I stretched out on the couch and decided to read while waiting for him.

  Wait…was it too lame to give him a key chain? Maybe I should just keep it for myself. I’d never given a boy a present before, and I doubted Caleb wanted a key chain. What gift did you give someone who already had everything?

  What was taking him so long? Something must have happened.

  He’s not going to come home, you know.

  Yes, he will.

  I glanced at the clock. It was already half past midnight. The hours felt so long.

  Where was he?

  My lids felt heavy, and I knew I was going to fall asleep soon. The last thing I thought before darkness claimed me was that I wished he would come home.

  * * *

  I woke up disoriented. It took me a minute before I realized I’d fallen asleep on the living room couch. My book was on the coffee table, and something slid off me and onto the floor. I reached down to discover a blanket. I didn’t remember getting a blanket…

  The only light was the soft amber glow from the lamp. My heart jumped into my throat as I saw a dark figure against the wall. I sat up.

  “Caleb! You scared the hell out of me!”

  It was dark, but I could make out his shape. A sliver of light from the window illuminated half of his face. He sat on the floor, his back against the wall. His long legs bent in front of him, his elbows resting on his knees, his head bowed.

  It was a moment before he finally spoke. “I’m sorry, Red.”

  It occurred to me that Caleb never sat far from me. He always wanted to be close. Holding my hands, touching my shoulder, smelling my hair…so why was he over there?

  Something was wrong.

  My heart started to thunder against my chest. At first, I panicked and worried that he was hurt. I almost stood up and went to him, but then he stopped me when he spoke again.

  “I’m sorry I scared you,” he whispered, his voice so quiet. “To start.”

  To start? What is he talking about?

  “I phoned, but you didn’t pick up.”

  I opened my mouth to answer him, but no words came out. I felt cold. So cold. I grabbed the blanket and slowly wrapped it around my shoulders, gripping it in my fists. I realized Caleb must have covered me with it while I was asleep.

  “I came home as fast as I could,” he continued, still whispering. I could hear every nuance in his voice. He sounded different—sad, pained.

  Guilty.

  “I’m sorry I was late.”

  I wanted to tell him it was okay, but my throat had closed up. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, and that he would tell me what it was very, very soon.

  “Red…” He finally raised his head, leaned back on the wall, and looked at me.

  I inhaled sharply.

  The sun was rising, an enormous beacon of light to those who had lost their way, adrift in their own pain and misery. Would I be one of those people tonight?

  The sun’s soft rays now penetrated the window, providing enough light to see all of his handsome face. Caleb looked exhausted. I took in the shadows under his eyes, eyes so dark that the green was gone. His mouth was set in a tight, severe line, his jaw hard. It looked like he had run his hands through his hair many times.

  And then I noticed his clothes. Why were they rumpled? I shut my eyes.

  No. No. Please…

  “She asked me to stay, and I did. I meant to stay just for an hour, but I fell asleep.”

  I let out the breath I hadn’t known I was holding. All right, he fell asleep there. He was exhausted, probably still had a headache from his hangover. It made sense. But why was he speaking like he still had something…bad to tell me?

  “Her dad has dementia, Red. I didn’t know it was that bad. He didn’t even recognize her. She didn’t take it well, broke down in front of me. Her
mom was yelling at the nurse to take him away. It was awful.” He shut his eyes and pressed his fingers against them, as if to wipe away the memory of what had just happened.

  I wanted to go to him, comfort him. But I didn’t.

  There was more. I knew there was more.

  “Red.”

  This is it. He’s going to tell me. God. Please.

  I lowered my eyes, refusing to look at him. Whatever he was going to tell me was not good. I could feel it in the air, almost taste it. Dreaded it.

  “Red,” he repeated. “Please look at me.”

  I clenched my fists, unclenched them. Then slowly, I raised my eyes and looked at him.

  “Do you trust me?”

  Four words. Four words that sounded so simple. But nothing held more meaning than those four little words at that moment.

  Trust. It always boiled down to trust, didn’t it? Giving your trust to a person meant handing them the dagger to stab you. To hurt you. To destroy you. And I had given Caleb that weapon.

  I shut my eyes again, feeling my heart break. I wanted to throw up.

  “Red, do you trust me?”

  God. Please not him. Not him. Please, don’t let him betray me. Anyone but him.

  What did I tell you? my subconscious mocked. All men lie, all men cheat. Leave him before he hurts you.

  Words spilled out of my mouth without thinking. “Did you sleep with her?”

  Caleb pulled himself to his feet with deliberate slowness, as though trying not to scare me. As though I were a frightened animal, ready to bolt. Anguish reflected in his eyes as he watched me.

  “Answer me, Caleb.” I said it calmly, not betraying any of the turmoil I was feeling inside.

  His face twisted in pain. “It’s no, isn’t it? You don’t trust me.”

  It was like witnessing a building about to collapse, and I was inside it. I knew what was coming, could see the cracks in the walls, hear the screech of stone against stone. No matter how hard I tried to escape, how hard I tried to run away, I couldn’t. All the doors were locked, and I was trapped.

  And Caleb had the key.

  He started toward me.

  “Don’t!” I snapped. I was barely holding it together. If he touched me, I would unravel.

  I stood up on wobbly legs, went to my room, shut the door, and began to pack. My hands were shaking as I shoved books and clothes in my bag.

  What did I tell you? He’s a liar, a cheat. All men are. Don’t be like your mom.

  Yes. I should have known… I wished I had the energy to slap him, kick him…but I didn’t. I just felt…crushed. Heavy. My limbs weighed down by pain and betrayal.

  I swallowed the hurt, buried it deep. I wouldn’t show it to him. He had crushed a part of me, but I wouldn’t let him take my pride. He wouldn’t see my tears. He didn’t deserve to see them. He wouldn’t… He wouldn’t…

  But my feet gave out on me, and I slid against my bed to the floor. Buried my face in my hands and cried silently.

  How could he?

  I don’t know how long I sat there, staring into space, lost in thought. Eventually, I forced myself to get up.

  It was time to leave. I shouldered my bag.

  There was a hitch in my stride as I opened the door and spotted Caleb seated on the floor outside my room. When he glanced up, I noted the dark shadows under his green eyes, the dejection in them. He looked exhausted and vulnerable.

  But I knew now that he was a great pretender.

  Everything was a lie.

  I ignored him, turning to walk toward the front door. I had to leave now. I gritted my teeth as he stood in front of me, blocking my way.

  “You don’t trust me. You never did, did you?” he asked.

  He waited for me to answer him, but I didn’t. I wouldn’t.

  “Whatever I say to you now, it wouldn’t matter. Because you’ve already made up your mind,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion.

  “Red.”

  His green eyes were pleading, compelling me to stay.

  But I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.

  “Without trust, you and I are nothing,” he whispered.

  Trust him? So he could feed me lies… No, I wasn’t going to stay for that. My hand reached for the doorknob. I was breathing hard.

  Silence.

  “Red?” He extended his hand, palm up, silently asking me to take it. “Don’t go.”

  I looked into his eyes, and I wanted to believe him. My breath was shaky as I dragged air into my lungs, and I smelled Beatrice-Rose’s floral perfume on him, leaving me no doubt in my mind. I bit back my tears and hardened my heart. “I can’t do this. Goodbye, Caleb,” I choked out.

  I rushed blindly past him. I was losing it, and I couldn’t allow him to see me fall apart. I opened the door and stepped out, refusing the urge to look back. I had packed everything I brought with me when I came to his home…

  So why did it feel like I was leaving everything behind?

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Veronica

  Vulnerability was an invitation for pain.

  Betrayal was like a rabid wolf, able to sense even a whiff of weakness. Its purpose was to devour and destroy the fainthearted.

  How many times did our paths need to cross before I learned?

  I showed the world what it hated to see: someone strong and unaffected, but inside I was nothing but a heartbroken disaster.

  I was moving but I wasn’t feeling, looking but not seeing. I boarded the bus to Kara’s place and walked the distance from the bus stop to her place. I was so immersed in pain that it took all my strength to keep it inside. I was in a complete daze. When I crashed into a solid object, I didn’t even react. I just crumpled to the ground.

  “I’m sorry. Are you all right?”

  A deep masculine voice spoke. Someone knelt in front of me, but I couldn’t see. My vision was blurry.

  “Damn.” A low curse. “Here, I got you.”

  I felt strong arms pull me up, then push a cloth into my hand. I looked at it, bewildered.

  “For your tears,” he said. “You’re crying, Angel Face.”

  I was? My hand reached for my cheek, feeling the wetness there.

  “Kar,” I choked. “I need Kar.”

  “Kar? You’re out of luck. She’s not here, but she’ll be back soon.” He steered me onto Kara’s porch. He sat on the white bench, looking at me expectantly. I followed and sat on the opposite end, as far away from him as I could.

  “I’ll just wait with you here until Kar comes back. Okay with you?”

  I nodded, shutting out everything.

  When I heard the strum of a guitar, my head turned toward the sound, and I found him playing the instrument. His long, nimble fingers strummed the strings with expertise.

  He was playing “Let Her Go” by Passenger.

  Oh, isn’t it ironic? I came here to forget, but I was getting salt rubbed into my wound.

  His voice was deep and raspy. I closed my eyes, feeling a pang in my chest as I listened to the lyrics.

  We sat together without talking. I listened as he played songs. He let me be, didn’t ask what was wrong. I was grateful for that.

  After a while, I glanced at him. I’d seen him before. I was sure of it. His hair was thick and dark brown, almost black. It was slightly curly and long enough to touch his shoulders. It looked disheveled, as if he ran his hands through it several times. His features were sharp and beautiful, reminding me of a statue of a warrior angel I’d seen once.

  He wore an ancient short-sleeved black shirt, a pair of old, faded jeans that had holes on the knees, and Converse sneakers. Sitting comfortably, one leg crossed over the other, with the guitar propped on his knee, he continued to play. He looked at ease in his own body.

  He impatiently swatte
d the hair that fell on his face, revealing three silver stud earrings in his right ear. Around his wrist was a black leather band that was fraying at the edges, like he hadn’t taken it off in years. I spotted several rings on his fingers.

  He stopped and pulled a black hair band out of his back pocket. Placing it between his teeth, he reached back and gathered his long, dark hair in his fist and quickly tied it in a messy bun. Then he started to play again.

  There was something wild and masculine about him, I observed as I studied him—something free. He had an I-don’t-give-a-damn air about him. I envied that.

  Startling light-blue eyes looked at me curiously, deep dimples popping out as he smiled.

  “You still have my towel?” He had a twinkle in his eye that I assumed warned everyone he was trouble. And I’d had enough trouble.

  Towel? What was he talking about?

  He had a slight accent that I couldn’t place. I realized I didn’t even know his name or what he was doing here when I heard someone call my name.

  “Ver?”

  Kara. I willed myself to calm down, get a grip. My gaze was steady as I turned to look at her, but then she asked, “What’s wrong?”

  I thought I had it under control, but just one look from my best friend—the look that told me she knew something bad had happened, knew I was hurting—and all the emotions I was desperately trying to keep inside spilled out. “Kar,” I sobbed.

  “Oh, sweetie.” She wrapped her arms around me as the tears began to flow.

  “Damon! What did you do to her, you bastard! You always make girls cry. What did you say?”

  He raised his hands in surrender. “I’m innocent.”

  Kara shook her head. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

  She led me to the kitchen. “Sit down, Ver.” She filled a glass with ice water and handed it to me. “What happened?”

  The water was cold as it slid down my parched throat. I concentrated on that feeling, wishing my heart was as hard and cold as the ice that clinked against the glass.

  My eyes darted to Damon, who was now lying on the floor, half of his body disappearing under the sink. His hand reached blindly for the toolbox sitting beside his hip. Kara kicked it closer to him.