One Step Closer(43)

Wren hesitated to take it from him. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He set it down in front of her and pushed his chair away from the table and scrubbed his face with both hands. “I want you to read it.”

Given the lateness of the hour, Caleb hadn’t turned on the recessed fixtures and the only light was from a small one over the sink and the moonlight streaming in from outside. It cast a low blue glow through the multi-paned windows: each with an ornamental arched pane at the top. They framed a curved alcove that bowed out and created the quaint nook where the kitchen table sat and added elegance to the space.

The house was quiet and Wren could sense Caleb’s apprehension as she reached for the paper and unfolded it, unsure if she should read it to herself or so he could hear her.

“Do you want me to read it out loud?” she began, glancing up to gauge Caleb’s reaction.

Caleb shook his head. “I’ve already read it,” he said shortly, with a shake of his head. He was feeling uncharacteristically emotional, and he didn’t need, or want, to get sappy in front of Wren. “I don’t need to hear it again.”

“Okay.”

Caleb moved away from her to pace slowly around the kitchen, finally stopping to lean his hip against the granite countertop on the opposite side. He studied her features as she read his father’s words. Her face took on a pained expression and a tear tumbled from one eye, then the one from the other. She used one hand to wipe them from her cheeks. She closed her eyes and small cry broke from her. “I’m so sorry, Cale.”

“How much did you know?”

Wren shook her head, and looked up into Caleb’s face, her eyes sad. “Only that he had major regret about his lack of relationship with you and he missed you. I think he struggled for a long time, but was unsure how to reach out to you in a way that you would respond to. He should have tried harder.”

Caleb’s mind flashed to the drawer full of letters sitting in his apartment in San Francisco. “He did. He tried for years.” Caleb stopped to look out the window, his face hard, and a muscle working overtime in his jaw. “I was a prick. He sent a bunch of letters, but I never read them,” he bit out. “Never opened any of them. I figured it was just money and I wasn’t going to help him assuage his conscience by taking cash.”

Wren felt her heart break, his sadness palpable; as if it were her own. She knew he couldn’t change anything and beating himself up wouldn’t help.

“He wouldn’t want you to blame yourself, Cale. He wasn’t an easy man to read. He was the adult, and you were a young boy who lost his mother. He knew how much she meant to you, and how much you must have suffered.”

Caleb’s muscled frame was rigid and as Wren looked at him, she studied his profile, and could feel his coiled tension. The fingers in his right hand curled into a fist. “I was so mad. So many times, I wished he’d been the one to die.” His voice was full of pain, as the words tore from him. “I f*cking hated him with every breath I took. You saw how much.”

Wren nodded, though he didn’t see her acquiescence. She knew what he went through growing up when they had formed an affable alliance against their parents. She hated her mother at least as much as Caleb hated his father and she understood his anger and pain; then the apathy that became a welcome alternative. They’d been unlikely allies against a common enemy.

“Maybe I deserved his indifference.”

Wren got up and went to Caleb, standing behind him as he stood still as stone, and staring out the window. Her heart ached with love and grief for Caleb. She wanted to touch him; to offer reassurance, to take away the ache in his voice and heart. Without considering her actions, her arms slipped around his waist and she pressed up against his strong back and leaned her head against him, between his shoulder blades.

Caleb was massive in comparison to her, and she was like a flower curling around him. Her hands fanned out against his hard stomach, her fingers finding the definition of his abs beneath his shirt. “Stop, Cale. I won’t let you do this to yourself. Your dad wouldn’t want that. None of it was your fault.” Her arms slid fully around him and held him tight against her body. “I can’t bear it. You’ve had enough pain. Enough.”

Caleb sucked in a deep breath, the action bringing her even closer. He could feel every curve of her body pressed so closely against his back. He could feel her breathing, could feel how she shared his pain. His hand came up and he ran the flat of his hand from her elbow down to her hand, and then wrapped his fingers around hers.

“When did you turn into the strong one?”

Wren’s arms tightened around him. “When I met you. ”

“Oh, Wren.” Should he just spill his guts? Would it fix everything? “I’ve got so much to say to you. How long can you stay?”

She nodded against him, unwilling to end the contact between their bodies; needing the closeness as much as he did.

He wanted to apologize for how he acted the last time he’d seen her, he wanted to say a hundred things… he needed her forgiveness.

“How long do you need me?”

In that moment a miracle happened; a sort of beautiful irony that taunted Caleb with its fragileness. It was as if he’d never screwed everything up between them. But would it stay this way?

How long do I need you? Caleb thought. His heart raced to the point of exploding, and he wondered if Wren could feel it.