One Step Closer(24)
He was uneasy, feeling physically sick inside. It wasn’t the nauseous; puke your guts out kind of sick, but the empty, desolate, hole-in-your-chest kind of feeling. Caleb didn’t want to think about his father’s death, the gravity of the decision hanging over his head, or dealing with the pressure he’d undoubtedly get from Macy. And Wren; all he could do was hope he could figure out a way to make things easier between them.
He realized it would be almost impossible to rest, and despite the distraction and white noise drone of the television, he wasn’t able to fall asleep. The chairs were the finest leather, and luxurious. More comfortable than most beds he’d ever slept in. He got up and pulled a blanket out of one of the closets in the hallway leading by the bathroom. He recognized it as one Wren used to use regularly. He hesitated briefly, before taking it with him back to his place in front of the television.
Caleb settled back in and tried to concentrate on the movie playing on Cinemax but all he could think about were his father and Wren. His eyes were unseeing, though trained on the screen as his mind ran rampant.
When he was seventeen, he and his father had gotten into a particularly nasty argument about a long vacation the two adults were taking. Normally, Caleb would have rejoiced at having the house to himself for a couple of weeks, but his stepsister was younger and being left in Denver with him. He still wasn’t acclimated to Wren, and even though he’d started watching out for her at school, he didn’t want to be responsible for her because his father decided he wanted to bang his new wife to the French Riviera. But, that was when he’d discovered who Wren really was, and looking back, he wouldn’t have changed anything about it.
Caleb closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Remembering more shit about Wren wasn’t going to help him sleep, but there was no helping it. She was everywhere in this house. After the first few months of knowing her, they spent a lot of time in this room, watching TV and basically hiding out from their parents. Wren hated Veronica as much as Caleb hated Edison, and that built a strong bond between them.
He could see it in his mind as if it were happening all over again.
After the blow out with his dad, Caleb snuck out through the back stairs, so upset he considered never coming back. His adrenaline was on overload and he needed to get rid of his aggression. He called his best friend; gunning to find a fight club event, but it was a Sunday night and the two boys weren’t able to find any openings on short notice.
They’d ended up in a more dangerous part of town, looking in a circuit that they weren’t regulars in, and Caleb’s smart mouth had landed them both in a brawl. Dex and Caleb were tougher and stronger than most boys their age, but they were outnumbered four-to-one by one of the more ruthless gangs and they got their asses handed to them. In all honestly, they’d been lucky they came out of it alive.
There was no denying that Caleb had gotten into some trouble, most of it on purpose to piss off his father; he’d gotten arrested twice, but he wasn’t stupid enough to dabble in gang warfare.
Caleb and Dex had no choice but to leave the destroyed car and run away like hell was on their heels. It wasn’t easy because of the injuries; Caleb’s face was turned into hamburger, and he’d taken a few kicks to his ribs, his knuckles battered and bruised. Though he’d had some awful pain in his chest and side, Dex was the one who needed medical attention since his shoulder had obviously been dislocated, his arm hanging painfully loose at his side.
Even worse for Dex; his prize 66 Mustang that he’d rebuilt with his Dad and brother had been trashed with a tire iron, and then torched. Dex’s dad, Darren, was livid at their recklessness, but he still came to get them; delivering Caleb home after spending two hours in the ER getting Dex’s shoulder reset. Caleb was badly beaten, but contended he didn’t need any medical attention; and had insisted on waiting in the backseat of the car during the hospital visit.
Caleb had been lucky. His own father was out of town with the plastic bitch to some cosmetic convention and he’d had a few days to heal up. Except, he really had the shit beat out of him, and he was worse off than he, Dex, or Darren, originally thought.
SHE WAS NERVOUS.
Wren Brashill hadn’t been back to Denver in two years, and she hadn’t spoken to Caleb since her birthday. She’d been sad that day, even though she had a date with Victor that evening; Caleb didn’t call until late that night, and she’d suffered waiting for it all day. Though they didn’t keep in touch as much anymore, she still missed him everyday.
Everything had been so messed up since they’d slept together when she was eighteen, and Caleb pretended he didn’t remember it the next day. It had hurt her deeply because she’d loved him in secret long before that. To date, she still hadn’t confronted him about it; still hadn’t told him she knew that he was fully aware of what happened between them. Before that night, he’d been the one person she leaned on: the only person she trusted. God knew her life before knowing him had been hell. She lived inside herself, finding it a safer place than the world where her mean and vindictive mother hated her. Wren had only known solitary confinement inside her own soul, hating herself as much as she hated her mother.
Her fingers traced over the faint scars that remained on her wrists from the times she sought to ease her mental pain, with self-inflicted physical pain. Her dark garb and reclusive behavior had hidden those scars from her mother, but never Caleb.