Chapter Fourteen
The bar is quiet and a little seedy – exactly what I was looking for and exactly what I need. I'm feeling a little overwhelmed by all the old faces I'm seeing, not to mention that marathon emotional purging session I just had with Rick's mom. It's something I'm really not used to and something I really don't dig very much.
Yeah, it's not quite noon yet, but fuck it, I need a drink.
I sit at the bar, looking at the flat screen TV hanging on the wall across from me. It's muted so I can't hear what the two anchors are saying, but I don't need to. I don't really care. I'm content to just sit there, sip my drink, and watch the silent highlights from all of last night's sports action.
Not that I'm particularly a huge fan of sports. I just want to shut the brain back down and stuff all of that emotional garbage that leaked out back into its box where it belongs – deep in that dark attic in the back of my brain.
There's another stop I want to make today – one that I'm dreading beyond words. But one I almost feel obligated to make. And for that, I think a little liquid fortification is probably wise.
At this time of the day, the bar is pretty much empty. Just me and a couple of old guys sipping beer and arguing loudly about everything from sports to politics. Yeah, I'm sure they're a blast to have at a party.
I glance at my watch and realize I've been sitting there nursing my beer for the better part of an hour. I know I'm just trying to put off the inevitable. And I ask myself once more why I feel like I have to go run this errand. And once again, I have no answer for that question other than I feel compelled to do so. No logic, no reason, no nothing other than it just feels like a loose end I have to tie up.
With a sigh, I push myself off my stool and drop some money on the bar. I nod to the bartender as I wander out into the early afternoon sunlight. The sunlight is bright, so I slip on a pair of sunglasses and walk back up to Main Street. If there's one thing I love about Sheridan Falls, it's that even on bright, sunny days, the temperature is mild. Unlike Southern California – when the sun's out, it's usually pretty damn hot. And personally, I had enough of the heat back in Afghanistan.
I'm walking down Main and see a cute little blonde heading in my direction. She's about five foot two and has some curves that are sexy as hell. There's something about her that rings that bell of familiarity in my head – it's faint, but it's there.
I quickly write it off though – being back in Sheridan Falls is throwing me for a complete loop and I'm seeing familiar faces everywhere. Even though I realize the city has grown so much, I know far fewer people than I think I do.
Still, there's something about the blonde that I can't quite shake. She's looking at me though and I start to think that maybe she could be a very good distraction for me this afternoon. Something to pass the time with until I'm supposed to meet everybody at the Wagon later this evening.
We're within ten feet of each other and the blonde is giving me a serious up and down look. I'm pretty sure this one is in the bag already. I figure all I have to do is smile real nice, throw a little charm her way, and those panties will practically fly off.
I figured that at least, until she stops right in front of me and speaks.
“Caleb?” she asks, her voice filled with disbelief. “Caleb Tirico?”
I look at her and can't place her. Instinct – or maybe, just a keen sense of self-preservation – told me to deny that was my name, turn around, and walk the other way. But a morbid sense of curiosity in me wanted to find out who this hot little blonde was and how she knew me.
“You don't remember me, do you?” she asks.
I frantically run through names and faces from my past in my head. And nothing is coming to me. I'm drawing a complete blank. A complete and utter fucking blank.
I give her a big grin. “I'm sorry, doll,” I say. “I haven't been in Sheridan –”
“For about twelve years now,” she says. “I know. And yeah, call me doll again and I'll stab you right in the eye.”
I laugh and shake my head. The girl is feisty. Another quality I like in a woman. But for the life of me, I can't place her. She looks at me with an expression that is somewhere between amusement and irritation. You'd think I'd remember somebody like this.
“To be fair,” she says. “I was a kid the last time you saw me. I was what, thirteen or so?”
And when she says that, I suddenly realize who she is and feel a jolt of adrenaline course through me. Holy shit. I know exactly who she is.
“Brooke?” I say. “Brooke Greenwood?”
She nods and gives me an uncertain smile. “In the flesh.”
“Wow,” I say, looking her up and down. “You – grew up.”
“Yeah, that happens as the years pass.”
“Still a smartass I see.”
“Like that's ever going to change.”
I mentally smack myself for giving her the once over again. I know she's an adult now, but there's something about sexualizing somebody you knew when they were a kid that just feels wrong. Perverse. She's grown into a gorgeous woman, no question about it. But learning who she is suddenly killed the desire to get her into the sack.
I remember her being a kid – a young, goofy kid who had ears too big for her head, a chest flatter than a table top, and a complete disdain for boys. But looking at her now, I can see that she's – well – blossomed. Blossomed very well, actually.
I mentally kick myself again, pushing all of those thoughts out of my head.
“So, how have you been?” I ask.
I force myself to look her in the eye, trying like hell to keep my gaze from wandering down to the full, perky tits straining against her shirt. It's a Herculean fucking effort though. Brooke has an amazing body – as much as I want to kick my own ass for thinking so.
“I'm doing good,” she says. “Running the store now.”
“Wow, you're the big boss, huh?”
She nods. “Yup. Sure am,” she says. “But that's not really the important question right now. The important question is – where in the hell have you been for the last twelve years?”
I cleared my throat. “I've been – away.”
“Yeah, obviously,” she says. “But where?”
I scratched at my beard. I wasn't here for a lot of reunions. I was here for Rick's funeral and after that, I was getting the hell out of Sheridan Falls again. I didn't owe anybody any explanations. I didn't owe anybody shit. Least of all, Brooke Greenwood.
But I also know that if I blow her off, she's going to keep annoying the piss out of me. That's how she'd been as a kid and I can tell by her attitude, that she hasn't changed all that much.
“I – joined the military,” I finally say.
“The military?” she asks. “As in – the army or something?”
“Marines, actually.”
“And you couldn't call, couldn't write, couldn't do – anything like that?”
I shrug. “I just thought it would be better that way.”
“Better for you maybe.”
I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “Look,” I say. “I'm just back here for Rick's funeral. Sorry if my going away caused you any sort of hurt – not that it should have. I needed to do what was right by me and I don't owe you an explanation, Brooke. But don't worry, after the funeral, Sheridan Falls is in my rearview mirror again.”
She gives me a long, level look. “It's not me you need to apologize to,” she says. “It's Abby.”
“Yeah, well, that's a little difficult when she's in New York.”
Brooke gives me an inscrutable expression, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. She looks smug. Like she knows something I don't and is lording it over me.
“What?” I finally ask.
“You really don't know?”
“Obviously not, Brooke.”
“Abby moved back about a year ago now.”
I look at her, completely dumbfounded. The adrenaline that shot through me before seemed like nothing compared to the absolute stream of it tearing through my body at that moment. Abby is in Sheridan Falls? Fuck. She is about the last person I want to run into while I'm here.
“She is going to shit herself when she finds out you're back,” Brooke says.
“I'm not back,” I say, my mind racing in a million different directions. “I mean, I am. But only for a couple of days.”
She shakes her head. “Do you even know what you vanishing like that did to her?” Brooke asks, her eyes narrowing, her face a mask of anger. “Do you even fucking care?”
“Of course, I care,” I say – or at least, I did care.
“You absolutely devastated her,” Brooke says. “She was wrecked for years, you insensitive asshole. You may not owe me an explanation, but I think – no, I know – you owe her one.”
I can't believe what I'm hearing. The last I'd heard – the last thing Rick had told me – Abby was married and living in New York. I figured she'd moved on with her life and was happy – and that's all I ever wanted for her, to be happy. And happiness was something I knew she wasn't going to have with me. Her father had made that abundantly clear.
After finding out she was married, I never asked about her after that. But I would have thought Rick might have mentioned the fact that she'd moved back to Sheridan Falls.
“Listen, Brooke,” I say, still trying to gather my thoughts, “she can't know I'm here. Please, don't tell her.”
“What, you don't think she's going to see you at the funeral?”
“She's going?”
Brooke gives me a look of pure contempt. “Yeah, probably. Rick was her friend too, you know.”
“Great,” I say and run a hand over my face.
“Maybe it's time you man up and give her an explanation, Caleb.”
I look to the sky, at the white, fluffy clouds drifting by overhead. If I hadn't already spoken to Rick's parents, I might just pack up and go right now. Maybe I could talk to them, explain the situation, and slip out of Sheridan Falls anyway.
I didn't want to face Abby. Not after what I'd done. The last thing I want to do is cause her any more pain than I already had.
“Yeah, maybe you're right,” I say, trying to buy myself some time to figure out what I'm going to do. “I owe her an explanation. But, can I ask you for one favor?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, that look of contempt still on her face. “You can ask.”
“I just need a little time,” I say. “You're right, I owe Abby an explanation. And I'll give it to her. Just – let me do it in my own way. Just don't tip her off that I'm back in town for now. Please.”
She let out a small snort of disgust. “She's my sister, Caleb –”
“I know,” I reply. “But don't you think she's been through enough already? Don't you think that dropping something on her like that might hurt her? I think it's better if I talk to her face-to-face.”
Brooke shakes her head. “Yeah, maybe,” she snaps. “Fine. I'll keep your secret. For now. But you had best talk to her, Caleb. Before the funeral.”
“I will,” I say. “I promise.”
She looks at me for a long moment and shakes her head. “Unbelievable,” she says.
Without another word, she turns and walks off, shaking her head in disgust the whole way.
“Yeah, that went well,” I mutter to myself.
My mind is awash in emotion and I'm having a hard time sorting through it all. Honestly, I don't even know where to begin. With a sigh, I turn and head for the car. Focus on the task at hand – and that's completing this errand I have even less desire to take care of now.