As I finish up in the bathroom, running a comb through my hair to make sure I don’t end up with a rat’s nest tomorrow, I realize that I don’t hear Caleb. Curious, I quickly finish up before looking at my towel. Oh, to hell with it. It’s not like he hasn’t seen me do . . . well, he’s seen me do almost everything, and I love it. The way he encouraged me, joining in . . . it’s like I’ve found the perfect partner, and I’m starting to wonder if there’s more to it than that.

Walking out to the living room, I see him doing up the buckle of his belt. He’s already got his shirt, and I’m confused. “You’re leaving?”

Caleb looks up, looking both slightly panicked and at the same time, guilty, like a kid who just got caught in the cookie jar and doesn’t know how to react to it. Finally, he shrugs, dropping his hands to his sides. “I figured I’d better get going since you said you were tired.”

His nonchalance seems forced, but it still makes my stomach twist, and I try to cover up my fear. I’m not Mama, I’m not Mama . . . “I thought you might stay. But yeah . . . okay.”

Caleb hears something in my voice and stops, putting his hands on his hips and tilting his head as he questions me, “You really want me to stay?”

“If you want. It’s late, and my place is closer to the house anyway.” I try to make it sound casual, like it’s not a big deal. But there’s a swarm of butterflies in my stomach. I want him to stay, but I don’t want him to stay because of me. I want him to want to stay. And now I even sound like Mama. Shit. What happened to keeping it casual? Fuck buddies, no strings, just getting off when we need it? Remember that little statement? Slow your roll, Cassie.

I sigh in my head, knowing that the little voice is just my fear talking, but I’m unable to shut it off. What is wrong with me? I know better than to get tied up with a man who’ll leave. Enjoy it while they’re here.

My heart does a little leap, though, as Caleb wordlessly pulls his shirt off and drops his jeans in answer, and follows me down the hall. When we get back to my bedroom, he pulls off his t-shirt, making my heart leap again. Pulling back the covers, we lie down, him on his back with my head on his chest. He mindlessly plays with my hair, twirling it around a finger and then letting it unfurl as his breath evens out. We’re almost asleep when it slips out. I can’t help myself.

“Tell me about her.”

Caleb stiffens, his hand immediately freezing in my hair. “What? Tell you about whom?”

I shift a little so I can look him in the eyes, concerned that I might be opening the one can of worms that could tear us apart, not just as bedmates but as friends too. “The one who gave you the Fuck You t-shirt. I forget her name, but I know you said something. What happened?”

Caleb licks his lips, blinking as his mind pulls him back, and for over a minute, he stares up at the ceiling, reliving some small private hell before he replies softly, but with a harsh edge to his voice, “I don’t really want to talk about that.”

I look in his eyes for a moment longer, and part of me says I need to push the issue, but another side of me is afraid that if I do, he’s going to get out of bed and walk out. Finally, I compromise. I cup his cheek, turning him to look at me as I sit up a bit more, and I lean over, kissing him gently on the lips.

“Okay, but you really shouldn’t hold that stuff in. Whatever she did, let it out and move on. You’re a great man. And I’m not talking as your fuck buddy or as your friend. I’m saying that as someone who cares about you. You deserve better than whatever she did. If you ever want an ear to listen, I’ll be here. I promise.”

I slide back down, turning over to tuck my pillow under my head. I can feel Caleb’s heat behind me, but he’s stiff, uncomfortable, and I start to regret even bringing it up. He is silent for so long, I think he’s given up and fallen asleep. I’m just on the verge of sleep myself when I hear him speak quietly. “Her name was Wendy.”

I don’t dare say anything back, afraid if he knows I’m really listening, he’ll stop. Still, Caleb turns on his side and lays a hand on my shoulder, and I turn over, looking at him silently in the dim light that filters through the window. I can see in his eyes that he’s got a lot to get through. Still not saying a word, I shift and pull him to my chest, letting him rest his head on my breast. Caleb adjusts too, and I wonder if he’s going to say more.

“We dated several years ago. I was in college. Even then, I was interested in more hands-on stuff, but I wanted to make sure I knew my business side too. I was more reserved back then, more interested in finding the one. We met my senior year, when I was looking at getting started with a construction company her dad owned. I wasn’t really looking to get with her at first, but we hit it off well.”

I say nothing, just trying to imagine a quiet, reserved Caleb. He’s always been . . . I guess the best word is tranquil, but reserved? It’s hard to imagine.

“I thought she was the one. I really did. We’d talked about getting married, having a family, and settling down, and God, I wanted that. I thought I wanted that with her. After I got my degree, I started full-time with her dad, and we started . . . well, we decided that we didn’t need protection anymore. The day she told me she was pregnant was the happiest day of my life. I picked her up and twirled her around the room as I shouted with joy. As soon as I set her down, I dropped to one knee and asked her to marry me. I didn’t have a ring or anything, but she said yes and I thought every dream I ever had was coming true. I got us a good apartment, and I worked myself to the bone with her dad to make sure I was bringing in enough money that we’d start family life off on the right foot. Wendy said she was happy, and I don’t know, maybe she was at first.”

He takes a deep breath, continuing. “A few months went by, and she was sick . . . so sick, throwing up morning, noon, and night. And I tried to help as much as I could, cleaning up the house so she could take a nap, making whatever she could stomach for dinner, but it was rough on her. We went in for a sonogram, supposedly to learn the sex of the baby. I remember being so damn excited. I had balloons in the trunk of the car, both It’s a Girl! and It’s a Boy! so I was ready either way. And I sat there in that fucking office, holding her hand as the doctor told us. The baby had stopped growing. There wasn’t a heartbeat. I didn’t need a fucking balloon. I was devastated, and I tried to hug her. She was stone-cold, no expression. I thought she was just too stunned, or she was being strong or something. She talked to the doctor about ‘what next’ and shit like that. I don’t even know because all I could think about was that we’d lost our baby. The doctor excused himself to give us a few moments to grieve, and she let out a big sigh . . . of relief.”

Wait, relief? Did I just hear him correctly? I still don’t dare utter a word, but if I heard right . . . my heart starts breaking for Caleb, whom I can imagine putting himself through hell in order to take care of this woman. He’d have worked fourteen hours a day and come home to take care of her for another six if he had to. And she was . . . relieved.

“She wasn’t overwhelmed like I was. She was just relieved. I tried to talk to her. I honestly don’t remember what I said, but she got mad and loud. She started yelling at me, and I don’t think she meant to say it, but she did. She yelled, ‘It wasn’t even your baby!’ I’m not sure what hurt more, the fact that it wasn’t mine or that she was already talking in the past tense. I drove her home, packed a bag, and never looked back. I called her dad, saying I was leaving, and he said he understood. He, at least, had integrity, and he even sent me two weeks’ severance pay. I found out later that Wendy had been going behind my back the whole time I was busting my ass for her.”

I swallow, tears forming in my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. Instead, I stroke his hair, letting him know I’m here for him. Caleb clears his throat, his voice a little raspy as he purges himself of the last bit. “So I decided. The whole family with a picket fence thing is a lie. I thought I had my dream right in my hands and it imploded. Since then, no commitments. No getting tied down. I haven’t told many people that story, and until I met you, I thought I could just keep cruising down the road of life, not worrying about it. Now . . . now I’m scared, because we’re becoming something I never thought I’d be part of again. But yeah, been there, done that, got the Fuck You t-shirt.”

Unsure of what to say, I say, “Caleb—” But before I can utter another word, he stops me.

“You asked. That’s the story. I don’t want to talk about it anymore or ever again.”

I don’t want to cause him any further pain, and I know how much it had to hurt to dredge all of that back up and pour his heart out to me. Quietly, I agree. “Okay.”

With that, he takes a big inhale, settling down to sleep. There’s nothing more to say, so I choke back my tears until I hear him start to snore lightly. Finally, I let them fall from my eyes, hoping the feeling of them striking his cheek and face doesn’t wake him.