I glanced over at my phone. It was 9 a.m. and I had three messages from Cassandra, all from the previous night, and one from Caleb. I read hers first, each one displaying her escalating concern, which wasn’t surprising since I’d left without even telling her.
With a deep breath, I opened the other.
Caleb, 1:12 a.m.: Stop by for lunch tomorrow to talk.
Tears welled up in my eyes. I was completely overwhelmed, and terrified of making another bad decision. I wanted so badly to talk to him, to get to know and understand him—explain that I wasn’t anything like an escort. But all my actions with Rafe said differently.
I couldn’t let go of my need for an explanation of his relationship with Rafe, too, yet the thought caused my temple to ache. I needed space to gain some reflection. It was why I did the unthinkable: dragged my ass out of bed, pulled my hair into a high ponytail, and threw on my running shoes.
I was standing on Cassandra’s front porch twenty minutes later, eager to hear about her night with Logan and gain some insight into Caleb.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” I said after entering without knocking, surprised to find her still in bed.
I lifted the blanket. “Damn. No Logan, huh?” I laughed, plopping down beside her.
“What time is it?” she asked groggily, shielding her eyes from the sun.
“Later than you’ve ever slept, I bet.”
Cassandra sat up. “Funny. Where did you go last night? I didn’t even realize you left until I went out to the car.” She stretched her arms up high and yawned.
“Yeah, sorry about that.” I arranged a pillow on my lap. “Turns out Caleb makes his drinks a bit too strong for me. He had a busboy give me a ride home.”
“A busboy?” She looked surprised. “Why didn’t he drive you himself?”
I shrugged. “Probably because it’s his place and he needed to be there.”
She looked unconvinced. “Well, you two looked awfully cozy up at the bar. Things going good?”
I wanted so badly to spill every last honest detail, but the hopeful innocence dancing in her eyes pleaded with me to keep it to myself, at least until I had more answers. If Caleb really was a good guy, I didn’t want her to be scared of him—or worse, be worried about me.
The longer I sat in silence, the more quickly her smile fell away to be replaced with growing concern, written clearly across her puzzled expression.
“Hey, are you okay?” she asked, reaching out for my arm. “If Caleb did something, you better tell me. I’ll have him taken to the center of town and beaten.”
“No, no, not at all.” I shook my head adamantly.
“Then what is it? He’s obviously attracted to you and he looked pretty darn attentive last night. He’d be crazy not to ask you out.” She squeezed my hand. “You waited so long for this. You should be bouncing off my bed with giddiness.”
She wasn’t totally wrong, which was why I bit my tongue and swallowed the truth. “Yeah, you’re right! I mean, he’s a total gentleman, though. Every time he gets close, I just want to grab him by that hair and see if his luscious pink lips taste the same as they did back then.”
“There’s my bestie!” Cassandra said with a laugh, standing up. “And I applaud your self-control! But maybe you’ll get your chance at the carnival in a couple weeks. You two still going together?”
Her guess was as good as mine, but at that point, it wasn’t looking good. We’d both initially thought the carnival was this weekend, as it was usually held before school started and we hadn’t discussed it since learning it was the weekend after this year.
I popped a shoulder. “Not sure yet. What about you? You gonna come out for the parade, at least?”
“Doubtful. Mark and I always went, so now I just…don’t think so.”
“What about your mom? Heard she’s been working on the float this year for the sheriff’s department.”
Cassandra shrugged her shoulders. “I know, but we’ll see.”
“What happened to striving for the daughter-of-the-year award?” I teased. “Maybe you’ll change your mind and I’ll see you there. But if I’m locking lips with a certain tall, sexy fella, feel free to walk away! I’m at least gonna feel his lips once more before he drops me. I’m dying to find out if it really was all I remember, or if I just built it up way too much, which is more likely.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m glad things are working out with you two. He may be a little rough around the edges, but he’s a good guy,” she praised.
I just smiled, bolting the lid closed on the events of the previous night once and for all and playing the part that made us both feel better. “Did you see him sitting with me at the bar, his legs around mine?” I gushed, genuinely lost in the feelings the memory created.
“I did!” She grinned. “I bet you were dying inside!”
Cassandra disappeared into the bathroom, the door half open so we could continue dissecting every move he’d made up until Joe caused a scene. She was more than happy to change the subject on that, and soon we were headed out for a jog.
She didn’t even bat an eye when I offered an easy white lie about Caleb being too swamped behind the bar the rest of the night for anything else to happen between us. It worked, as did the light breeze cutting through the bright morning sun, at distracting me from anything but hopefulness.
“So, how did it go with Logan last night? He ever make it to your table?” I asked, eager to hear all about their interactions as we made it to our usual turnaround spot.
“He did, and we chatted. Had a drink.” She looked my way and grinned. “We even danced.”
“Seriously!?” I asked, breathless and cramping. What was I thinking jogging with a hangover? I chugged from my water bottle, desperately needing hydration.
“Yup. And then I chewed him out, told him off, and stomped to my car.”
“So it went well.” I laughed, as did she, shaking her head. “Your ways may be unique, Cassandra, but I’m sure he’s still smitten.”
“Smitten? No, absolutely not. Horny, probably.”
I raised my brows. “Hey, horny has its place in the world too.”
“Perhaps.” She sighed, then suddenly, with no warning, released a screeching, “Gah! What the hell is wrong with me? I feel like I’m turning into a recluse bitch—or worse, bitter, like my mom!”
I made a face that didn’t completely disagree, my attempt at humor apparently failing considering she sped up, jogging ahead of me. I caught up eventually, holding my side, ready to crumple over into the ditch. But I managed to snare her arm to slow her down and blew out an exhausted laugh.
“Stop, I’m kidding,” I offered. “Sure, you can be bitchy at times, but who gives a shit? Lord knows I have my own moments. And you are nothing like your mom. So what if you moved out here? You love it in the country.”
I spread my arms wide, gesturing to the beautiful shades of green covering the trees and the speckles of reds and yellows from wildflowers scattered around them. “You have a right to live where you want to live.”
“Everyone thinks I’m becoming a hermit.”
I laughed again. “No, people who care about you worry about you living alone this far outside of town, and with only one neighbor, who is as secretive as he is gorgeous. And honestly, what’s wrong with being a little bitchy at times? You’ve been too nice your whole life.”
“You never see ‘bitchy’ on shortlists of positive attributes,” she noted.
“True,” I said slowly, “but anyone who thinks you’re a bitch doesn’t know you and can answer to me or my dad. Come on, how much fun would that be to watch?”
I finally earned a smile. It was faint, but unmistakable. “How’s he doing?” she asked. “I’ve been meaning to stop by, but my mom said he’s the same old Hank, stubborn as ever.”
“You have no idea. Guess what he thought would be a good idea?”
“Uh-oh. What?”
Cassandra and I may have had secrets we kept from
each other about men or money, but never our parents—which was why I told her about his fake heart attack at Haven.
“Oh my God!” she hollered, bent over in laughter. “That’s why I love him.”
“Seriously, that’s why? Because he can humiliate me?”
She shook her head. “Stop. Caleb probably enjoyed the show. He’s always been a guy’s guy, and so is your dad.”
“Did you not hear the part about him drinking before he even got to the bar?” Why didn’t she see the problem there?
“Hilary.” She stopped and looked at me. “Your dad’s not an idiot, and he wouldn’t do anything reckless. He got out and had some fun—exactly what you keep begging me to do. So cut the man a little slack, please?”
I didn’t disagree, although it took a whole lot of willpower not to. “I just worry about him, and—”
“Are you worried about him or his reputation?” she asked briskly.
“Both! He’s had enough hell in his life.”
“Yeah, he has, but he still has a whole lot of life left to live. He’s smart and funny and has that whole rough-and-tumble handsomeness. Maybe if he got out, he’d meet someone and—”
“And what?” I dared.
“And maybe that’s what he needs. Have you talked to him again about filing for divorce?”
We walked slowly, and with over two miles left to go, the change of pace was a huge relief. “Eighteen times and counting, all with no luck. He feels responsible for her.”
“Understandable,” she said.
I narrowed my eyes her way. “Really? Because I sure as hell don’t get it!”
“Hilary, your mom…she has a disease. That doesn’t make her a bad person.”
“Actually, when you murder someone, it does.”
Cassandra stood silently, her expression soft and eyes full of sympathy. I hated that look and couldn’t stand to see it, which was why I immediately began walking again, pumping my fists. The aching cramps in my side were becoming a pleasant distraction from the agony emerging in my chest.
“Hil—”
“We’re done talking about it,” I cut her off.
“Hilary, wait.” She grabbed my hand, causing me to stop. “I know you, and when she got moved last year, you seemed like you were so close to visiting her. What changed?”
Nothing, and that’s the problem. “Not the right time.”
She stopped me from walking again, but still I faced forward.
“But we talked about this—you even agreed it’s never going to feel like the right time. But maybe you should give her a chance to tell her side of things now that you’re an adult.”
A frown hardened my lips.
“I’m just saying,” she went on. “Since your dad won’t talk about it and my mom feels it’s not her place, all we have are old newspaper articles and court documents to go on. Don’t you think you should hear her out? It’s been over twenty years.”
I spun her way abruptly. “You know I spent every single Sunday at that damn mental hospital since before I can remember, all the way up until I realized that it wasn’t about whether she was capable of being a mother, but that she didn’t want to be. She had every opportunity to explain herself, but instead she chose to watch TV or bitch about the nurses. She never once asked about my grades or sports or even boys. If she cared about me, she would’ve shown it.
“I told you that last time when your mom took me on my sixteenth birthday and my mom ‘forgot,’” I air quoted, “what day it was, and then gave a pitiful excuse about needing a nap because of a headache so we had to leave after driving almost two hours to have a ten-minute visit…” Tears stung my eyes, forcing me to close them.
“I’m sorry.” Cassandra rubbed my shoulder. “I shouldn’t have brought her up. What do I know, anyway?”
“No, it’s fine. I just don’t want to think about her, and I wish more than anything that my dad could let her go. She’s safe in there, and she likes it, from what I hear. Why does he need to stay married to her?”
I heard Cassandra sigh as I opened my eyes, grabbing my water bottle. “I don’t know,” she said. “You have every right to decide whether you want her in your life and I’ll support you either way, like I always have. I want your dad to move on too. He deserves it.”
I offered a tiny smile full of love and appreciation. “Thanks.” I dried my eyes, and a bubble of a laugh burst up.
“How the hell did we even get on this fucked-up subject anyway?” I started a full jog, enjoying the wind at my back.
“I think I was trying to figure out how to stop acting like a bitch, which apparently I haven’t quite figured out yet.”
“You’re so not a bitch,” I said, laughing. If she was, then what did that make me?
“Really? Try asking Logan that.”
“Cassandra—”
“No, I’m serious. This is exactly why, as my best friend, you’re supposed to keep me locked away from civilization…at least until Mark moves out of town.”
“Hey,” I said pointedly, “he wasn’t even there last night, so I’m gonna need a new excuse to give the poor folks around here whom you’re so concerned are judging you.” I took a long-needed gulp of water from my bottle.
“Ha ha,” she deadpanned. “I’m just…frustrated.”
“Yeah, sexually so, I bet!”
I wasn’t kidding, either. She and Mark had been over for a year. I could only imagine how “frustrated” she must be.
“No, I mean…” She looked away. “I don’t know. I’m just tired of being lonely, and worse, tired of trying to fight it.”
My heart hurt for hers. “Hey, we all get lonely, and we all handle breakups differently. You need to stop worrying about other people and be the fun, sweet Cassandra I love.”
She smiled quickly, so fake it hurt to see. “I wish I could move on like you do. You’re so freaking strong. You’d have never let it get as bad as I did with Mark. You see through everyone. It’s like you have some sort of bullshit radar, and I love you for that.”
If she only knew. It wasn’t strength that kept me going—it was denial. When I didn’t speak, the tension mounting between us caused me to only feel crappier for hiding behind a false power she perceived to be real.
Slowly, she grinned. “And I love you for coming out here almost every morning this summer, but no more weekend events. Deal?”
“Deal,” I said softly, clearing my throat. “Now how about we stop with all this emotional crap and go make some nachos and binge-watch Dexter?”
Cassandra snorted. “Fine—if you can beat me home. If not, then it’s salad and Criminal Minds.”
“Damn it!” I called out, already left in her dust.
Chapter Eleven
By the time I’d left Cassandra’s, the sky was dark and the air humid. I’d replied to Caleb’s text earlier—a simple, “Thanks, but too busy.” Not that it seemed to matter, since he never responded.
It was for the best. I’d stop by Haven later in the week and see where we stood, but for now, space sounded good—mostly because open house was in exactly one week and despite having my classroom fully decorated and ready for my second-graders, I still didn’t feel ready.
It was just past ten and I was soaking my body in the bathtub, muscles languid, going over every scenario for my students’ first day. What if they didn’t listen to me—or worse, what if they cried, or got hurt? Cassandra was such a natural with kids, while my strength was more with teaching itself. I could only hope they liked me enough to take it easy on me for a while.
With my hair wrapped tightly atop my head in a fluffy white towel and another wound around my torso, I left the bathroom just as a knock landed on my front door. No way is Cassandra out this late on a Sunday.
I shuffled toward the door, curious for only the briefest moment before my stomach knotted. Rafe. Would he really show up here? Or maybe it was his wife again. I cringed at the thought.
When another knock sounded, I exchanged
the bottom towel for a robe and ignored the other on top.
I opened the door slowly, halting when Caleb appeared on the other side. Why was he there? How did he even know where I lived?
“Hey,” I said softly.
His usual easy smile held a tinge of weakness. “Hey, you busy?”
Not busy, but definitely not ready for this conversation. “It’s really late and I have a lot going on tomorrow. Maybe we can talk another time,” I suggested.
He tilted his head slowly, seeming to ponder my offer. “I see. Well, then, how about I just give you this?”
He held out a white paper sack with Haven’s logo on the front. I opened the door fully to accept it.
“What is it?” I asked, peeking inside.
“Dessert.”
Inside was a clear plastic container housing a giant piece of the moistest, fluffiest-looking strawberry shortcake.
I peered up at him, smiling yet confused. “Thanks, but uh…you came out here just to bring me food?”
When he didn’t speak, I laughed, shuffling my feet. “Not that I mind. Thanks, actually.”
Before I could fall into another bout of rambling, I noticed he wasn’t looking at me, but more at my head.
“Oh, God!” I shrieked, yanking the towel off of my hair and tossing it back inside the apartment. My vain attempt to tame my unruly curls was thwarted when he reached out, removing my hand from the strands.
“Looks beautiful like that.”
My entire body flared not only at his words, but the sensual look in his stare.
He cleared his throat quietly. “And no, not just for the cake. I came for this.” He held out his hand, as if for me to shake. “Hi, I’m Caleb. Caleb Townsend. I grew up around here. A few blocks down, actually. And some people think I have anger issues.”
Feeling completely awkward but biting back a smile, I shook his hand slowly.
“Hello, Caleb, nice to meet you,” I said, resisting the urge to let out a bubble of laughter.
“The pleasure’s all mine, Miss…”
“Robinson. Hilary Robinson. Nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure’s been mine.”