One Step Closer(38)

He should probably just take the f*cking estate and not bog her down with the responsibility of helping him run the company. It was clear she loved her life as it was. His mind railed as his conflict filled him. He already knew most of what she was saying, and even though they didn’t keep in close contact anymore, she was a still a priority. Despite their differences, Caleb made it a point to know where she was at all times.

He was listening, but the words morphed into the background as the conversation between the girls continued. He simply could not take his eyes off of Wren’s face. She was so beautiful; still so beautiful.

He remembered the first time he saw her without that horrible black wig and awful dark eye makeup she habitually wore after coming to live with the Luxon men. He thought she was an utter freak before the night he and his friend had gotten the shit beat out of them. The night Dex’s Mustang was destroyed; when Dex’s dad had dropped him off at home after taking Dex to the hospital. He wondered if Wren remembered that night with as much clarity as he did. It had changed the way he thought of her, looked at her, and made him want to get to know who she really was.





CALEB REMEMBERED IT as if it were yesterday. Even though he was observing the two women interact; his mind was filled with that night.


The first time he’d seen her as she truly was; he’d been stunned. Despite his injuries and haze of pain, he’d barely been able to believe his eyes as she tended to his wounds. He was in as bad of shape as Dex had been and should have been seen by a doctor, too. He hadn’t wanted to burden Darren more than they already had, and he’d put on a tough front, hiding how badly he was hurt. It turned out he’d had at least three broken ribs and the pain had made it impossible for him to get downstairs by himself. He’d collapsed at the top of the stairs, and lay there in a helpless, moaning heap.

Like an angel, Wren had appeared; her long blonde curls flowing loose, her eyes not masked by the black makeup she usually wore, and the blush on her skin not hidden beneath a whitewash of foundation.

At first, he thought he was having a hallucination brought on by a pain-induced hazed.

“Caleb!” When she spoke, and he recognized her voice. He remembered how stunned he was; how absolutely speechless he’d been as he stared into her beautiful face, framed by all of that glorious hair.

“Wren?” he’d asked as she knelt beside him on the marble tiles of the kitchen floor, his hand reaching toward her face. He grunted in pain and fell back on the cold floor, cradling his midsection. “Is that you?”

“Oh, Cale. What have you done?” His face was bruised and swollen, his knuckles broken and bleeding, so she’d done as he asked and not called his dad, or a doctor. Instead, she taped up his ribs, cleaned his hands and the cut above his left eyebrow, and bandaged him up as best she could. All without judgment.

In those few hours their relationship slowly began to change. She’d pulled his arm around her neck, put another around his waist to take some of his weight as she helped him carefully down the stairs and into his bed. He was exhausted and out of breath, pain wracking his body; his ribs throbbed, his knuckles burned and his head pounded, and still; he couldn’t take his eyes off of her in the low-lit room.

“You can’t tell my dad, okay?” He groaned in pain as she let him down as gently as possible. “I mean, ever?”

“What will he do?”

“Lecture me to death. I’ll be better by the time they get back, and he’ll just be an *.”

“Okay.” She nodded and turned to leave the room. “I’ll let you get some rest and check on you in the morning.”

Caleb was panting slightly, out of breath from the exertion and his injuries, embarrassed to be so broken in front of her. He was seeing her as she really was, with new eyes… and he’d never look at her in the same way again.

“Wren, wait.” He put up a hand and she turned back around. “Why?” His brow knitted and he shook his head in confusion? “I don’t get it. You’re so—”

She stopped and turned toward him again, a small shrug lifting her slight shoulders. “It’s just… easier. My mom doesn’t like me when I look like this.”

Despite his weakened condition, rage welled up inside Caleb’s chest and real hate for his stepmother began to fester. From what he’d seen Veronica didn’t like Wren when she looked gothic, either. “What? She wants you to hide what you really look like? Is she that vain? She can’t handle that you’re more beautiful than her?”

When Wren looked down and shrugged again, embarrassed to be called beautiful after so many years of being told she was ugly and worthless. She was frightened at the very thought of being more beautiful than her mother. She had tasted the consequences of that, too many times.

Caleb exploded. “That is so f*cked up, Wren!” Pain had sliced through him as his muscles coiled with rage; his first instinct to act. “If I could, I’d beat the shit out of her. What kind of twisted bitch is she, to do that to her own kid?”

“Caleb, it’s okay. I’m used to it.”

He shook his head. “No. No, it’s not okay, Wren! It’s so f*cked up.”

“She forgets about me when I disappear. She doesn’t hurt me as much when I wear that stuff.”

Caleb had never been so livid in his life. Not even his own father’s lack of caring about him could compare to how heinous this was. It was one thing to forget about your kid and another to physically and emotionally abuse them. “You will never put that stuff on again, Wren. Never, do you hear me?”