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 He's filled out a lot and his boyish face has been replaced by one with more curves and angles.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 an 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.”
He lets out a long sigh. “You know how fucked up I am, Abby,” he says after a few moments. “I couldn't do that to you. You deserved better than I could ever give you. You still do. Honestly, I feel like I was doing you a favor by not burdening you with my bullshit.”
“And it was up to you to decide what I needed in my life?” I ask.
Caleb didn't answer me. I hate to admit, but sitting here next to him, I'm finding it harder and harder to remain angry at him. This was Caleb – my Caleb – the boy I loved with every last shred of my being. The boy who is the one I measure all others by. The boy who devastated me by vanishing. And yet, here he was. At last.
But I hold on to my anger. It's a righteous fury. One I've earned. One I'm entitled to after what he did. I deserve answers. I demand answers for why he broke my heart and my spirit.
“Like I said, I know I'm an ass,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “What else do you want me to say? I've apologized. I feel bad for hurting you. I really do. But it's the past, Abby. It's ancient history.”
“And I should move on and get over it all. Got it. Thanks,” I say.
I've heard that same line of thinking from so many people over the years and it never failed to infuriate me. Just move on, they'd tell me. As if I can control my emotions that easily. If it were that easy to let go of Caleb, don't you think I would have? It's not like I enjoy being hurt all the time. It's not like I enjoy being an emotional train wreck.
But then Caleb surprises me. “No,” he says, “You have every right to be pissed at me. I just hope maybe we can move past this. And that maybe one day, you can find happiness with somebody. Because you deserve that, Abby.”
Happiness. Huh. What an abstract concept in my screwed-up life. Staring down at my hands, I decide to change the subject.
“How long are you going to be in town?”
“Only as long as I have to be,” he says. “Maybe a few more days, at most.”
My heart aches at the thought of watching him walk away and losing him all over again. But I nod, knowing that there's no way Caleb and I can be together. He's no longer my Caleb and when he leaves, it's not like I'm really losing him all over again – I never had him to begin with.
Caleb leans forward and takes my hand in his, setting my heart racing and making me look up and meet his gaze once more. Everyone else at the bar disappears in that moment. As I stare into his eyes, there is no one else at the Wagon but Caleb and me. And as I stare into those gorgeous, dark eyes, I feel like I'm back in high school all over again. All of those feelings I carried for him – that connection we shared – it all came rushing back with a vengeance. I was awash in feeling. In memory and nostalgia. And it's taking everything in me not to lean forward and kiss him.
“How have you been, Abby?” he asks. “You know I've worried about you. I've thought about you a lot over the years. But I heard you went away to school and then got married. I thought – hoped – you were living the dream and were deliriously happy, so I didn't want to bother you. I didn't want to disrupt your life.”
“You'd never bother me, Caleb,” I say, feeling the tears stinging my eyes. “How have I been? That's a really strange question, but I guess I've been okay. I'm back home, obviously. Back in Sheridan Falls for good, most likely. New York City was just too much for me – especially once my marriage fell apart. I just needed to be somewhere comfortable again. And so, here I am.”
“I'm really sorry it all didn't work out like you'd hoped,” he says.
“I'm not,” I snort. “I wasn't happy there. I fooled myself into thinking I was for a while, but the truth always bubbles to the surface eventually.”
“And now?” he asks. “Now that you're home, are you happy with that douchebag who tried to haul you out of here earlier?”
I laugh, a choking sound that sounds almost like a sob. “We broke up,” I say. “A few days ago. He's not taking it well. I think he's stalking me.”
“I can tell he's not dealing with it well,” he says. “Seriously, if he's stalking you, then you need to let somebody know. You need to nip that shit in the bud right now.”
“Yeah, I will,” I say. “I think he's harmless for the most part. And he wasn't like that before, I swear.”
“Well, all I can say is that I'm glad you're not with him anymore,” he says. “The fact that he was a dick to you is part of it.”
“Only part of it?”
My heart swells in my chest. Don't get your hopes up, Abby, I tell myself. But it's hard not to. But I quash the feelings blooming within me and give myself a swift mental kick. I can't afford to let myself feel for Caleb again. Especially knowing he's leaving town again soon. I need to hold on to that anger. He was the son of a bitch who ghosted me, after all. He doesn't deserve my affection – he deserves a kick in the ass of his own.
Caleb gives me a half-smile. It's a shy smile – almost like he's ashamed to say what he's about to say.
“Part of it's because he's a dick to you,” he says. “And part of it is because maybe – I was a bit jealous too.”
I look down and realize that he's still holding my hand. I look at our fingers that are intertwined and I'm again struck by a wave of nostalgia, recalling all of those feelings from the past. His large hand encompasses mine completely, and he gently strokes my fingers – just like he used to do all those years ago.
“Jealous? Of James?” I feel my cheeks start to flush. “Why on Earth would you be jealous of him?”
“Because he has you,” he says softly. “Or rather, had. Past tense now, thankfully.”
“So, there's still some small part of you that cares for me, huh?”
I find myself smiling – and find it more difficult to hold on to that righteous anger I've been nursing. The idea that he still cares for me, even a little bit, fills me with a thousand different emotions – joy among them.
“Abby, I've always cared for you. I didn't leave because I didn't love you,” he says. “I had to leave because I did love you. And in my own way, I never stopped loving you – which scares the living shit out of me.”
My heart skips a beat – maybe three or four of them – as I process what he just said. He still loves me. After all these years. He still has feelings for me.
We stare at each other for a long moment, and I dream of kissing those soft, luscious lips. But that dream is ripped away when a drunk falls onto our table, spilling his beer all over the front of my shirt. Caleb's bottle goes flying and shatters when it hits the floor. And my lemonade glass meets the same fate.
I stand up, in shock and to prevent the drunk from rolling off the table and onto my lap. Caleb, on the other hand, yanks the man up from the table and into a standing position.
“Fuck, man, I'm sorry,” the drunk says, his speech slurred, his eyes glassy, and a goofy grin on his face. “My bad.”
“It's not me you should be apologizing to,” Caleb says, his face darkening with anger as he turns the man to face me.
“I'm sorry,” the man says. “I didn't mean to.”
“It's okay,” I say, trying my hardest to dab off the beer that has already started soaking into my blouse. “Just be more careful next time.”
Caleb lets the man go, but the moment was ruined. I feel tears in my eyes again as I thought about everything we could have been. But he was leaving town again soon and I know I can't get attached. Not again. I'm not going to set myself up for more heartache. I tighten my grip on that righteous anger within me – and pray that I can keep hold of it until he leaves.
“Let's get out of here,” Caleb said, dropping some cash on the table.
“Where to?” I ask.
“Somewhere we can get you a clean shirt,” he says.
“I can just go home.”
Caleb shakes his head. “I'm only in town for a few more days,” he says. “I'm not letting you walk away that easily. I think we have a lot to talk about still.”