One Step Closer(42)

“We both were, I think.”

Caleb stood and went to get another fork, then sat in the chair next to Wren’s. He dug his fork into her food when she shoved the plate a little closer to him. “That’s true. I was a punk.”

He was sitting so close she could feel the heat radiating between them, emanating a small healing that Wren soaked up like parched earth in the rain.

She laughed softly. He was right, he was, but his toughness was part of what she loved about him. “You had a little chip on your shoulder, maybe. Macy seems nice. Have you known each other long?” She finally took a bite of the delicious food at the same time as Caleb did.

“A few months.” Caleb shrugged off the question, but Wren had to acknowledge that if Macy was here, in Denver, with him, then it had to be more serious than he was letting on. “Sorry she was so nosy. I haven’t told her that much about you, so naturally, she’s curious.”

Wren hated the way she had to search for things to say. They hadn’t spoken since the phone call on her birthday, and Wren found herself struggling. She wanted to blurt out that she was sorry for bringing Sam to San Francisco, that she knew he remembered their night together, and so much more.

“I understand.”

They fell silent for a minute or two, both of them eating from the same plates, leaning toward each other, eyes meeting for a brief second once or twice. It was nice, and some of the strain between them melted away.

When she pulled the cake toward her and took one bite, her eyes sparkled at him. “Go on. Help me. You know I can’t eat all of this.”

Caleb chuckled softly. “If you insist.” He dug in with her.

When she’d had enough, Wren reached out to touch him, her fingers wrapping around his left wrist, causing him to pause.

“Are you okay, Cale?” Her blue eyes searched his. “I mean, really?”

“Yeah, sure.” One shoulder lifted in a half-assed shrug. “Sorry about before.”

Wren shook her head. “You don’t have to be sorry with me.” Hasn’t our history taught you that? Her mind screamed with all they’d been through and all he meant to her. “You’re obviously hurting. Hatred is as fragile as love… isn’t it?” Her soft words, though soft, held the hit of a hammer.

Caleb set down his fork, and turned his hand so his fingers could close around hers, and nodded. “How’d you get so smart?” His eyes glassed over and he swallowed hard. “I just wish I’d known the whole story, before.”

“I don’t think you were ready to listen.” Their faces close as they both leaned on the tabletop, the situation intimate, and their voices low.

“Probably not.”

Wren knew him better than he knew himself. So much, it sliced right through him.

“What about now? Do you know how he felt?” Her eyes were soft and imploring, her voice sweet and searching.

“Do you?” Caleb asked, his brows elevating a bit. How much had his father told her when he’d refused to listen?

She nodded slightly, leaning on her arm, her eyes never leaving his handsome face. It was easy to see how exhausted he was. His hair was shorter, but he was still the same beautiful, golden Caleb. His arms, shoulders, and chest were bigger; his legs stronger; his presence even more intimidating, if that were possible. Her heart stopped in her chest at his strength and good looks.

“A little, I suppose. Don’t be angry with him. He told me about your mother, and how much he loved her. I know he loved you, too, Cale. He wasn’t great at expressing his feelings, that’s for sure; but he only married my mom so you wouldn’t be alone. He knew he wasn’t present in your life and… well, I’m really thankful he did, Caleb.” Wren’s voice caught and a tear tumbled down her dewy cheek. “I only wish he could have told you some of this when he was alive.”

“How long have you known?” He backed up a little, angry that she would keep something like this from him.

“Last year. His health was failing, and I think he knew he wasn’t going to be around for long.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Wren could feel him emotionally pulling away and she reached out again, this time holding his hand. “I should have. I know that, but I was afraid of hurting you, and we had issues of our own to clear up, first. We still do.”

“I know we do.”

“I was hoping we could talk while I’m here.”

“Me, too.” His fingers closed around hers and squeezed slightly.

“But, with Macy here—”

Caleb huffed impatiently. “We’ll have time,” he promised. “I’ll make time, Wren.”

He wanted to get this thing with his dad and the estate out of the way first, unwilling to let it influence any personal conversations that were in front of them.

He pulled the letter from his back pocket, pain welling up inside his chest. In another life, he would have gotten angry and disputed anything good anyone would have said about Edison Luxon, but not tonight. Not after… the letter and his time with Wren.

“All this time, I’ve blamed him for everything, but now—” He stopped and leaned back, breaking their connection, and used that hand to rub the back of his neck, then reached back and pulled out the letter. “I’m not so certain.” He held it out to her. “Read it.”