One Step Closer(76)

The pool house was the place Caleb said goodbye to her when he left for MIT years ago, and she gravitated toward it without even thinking. She couldn’t bear the thought of life without him in it. It was one thing to live without him on a day-to-day basis… but how would she cope without the possibility of knowing him at all?

***

CALEB COULDN’T SLEEP. He’d given up after nearly an hour of trying.

Whapp! Whapp! Whapp! The sounds of his gloved fists hitting the cylindrical bag in the workout room was punctuated by his guttural grunts as he put all of his frustration and strength into it. He couldn’t beat the shit out of Veronica, so the bag would have to do.

He tried to process the many emotions running through him. He was livid that Veronica had dared to show up at the house, and was worried sick that Wren would somehow fall apart when faced with that hag. The reading of the will and the logistics of moving to Denver, all had his guts tied up in knots.

He couldn’t know how Wren would react to the inheritance being split, then being tied to him for at least five years. Part of him felt guilty about his decision. He knew that she had her own life to live, and he was honest enough with himself to admit that this was a selfish decision. He wanted a chance with Wren. The chance he’d foolishly thrown away nearly four years earlier when he’d slunk away like a coward after he’d made love to her. He hit the bag harder and harder, willing the conflict to leave his mind and heart.

“Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!” The sound of his exertion and aggression against the leather bag filled the glass-enclosed room. Perspiration was beading on his body and face due to his exertion.

He stopped and bent at the waist, breathing hard. He straightened and used one of the short sleeves of his T-shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow as it threatened to drip into his eyes. His teeth pulled at the Velcro closing of his boxing gloves one after the other, so he could remove them. He’d had enough for the night.

The muscles in his arms and shoulders were swollen and bulging from the workout, and his legs felt like jelly. He didn’t know how long he’d been at it, but it had to be more than an hour. He hung up the gloves, kicked off his shoes, and then grabbed one of the small towels. He began to wipe down the back of his neck, face and arms. He planned on hopping in the shower, but was badly in need of a drink of water first.

The wet bar in the basement had an assortment of drinks, beer, soda and Perrier in the refrigerator, but no plain water, which was what he craved. His head fell back as he made the choice to go the kitchen. “Hell,” he murmured softly, resigned to making the trek upstairs.

The towel now hung loosely around his neck, and he pulled one end of it up to dab at his forehead and eyes. His hair was plastered to his skin and he pushed it out of his eyes in irritation. The lights in the rest of the basement were off, but those illuminating the weight room were enough to see the furniture and the staircase.

Once in the kitchen, he glanced at the clock on the microwave on his way to the refrigerator. It was well after 1 AM. He opened the big stainless steel door, and leaned in to search the contents on the shelves. There were several containers of leftovers from earlier and half a dozen glass bottles of Voss water lined up on the top shelf. Caleb reached for one and was unscrewing the lid and chugging it down before the door to the refrigerator closed. God bless, Jonesy, he thought. It was his favorite brand. His head was back as he gulped it down; the cool, refreshing liquid was running down his throat when he heard the sound of the back door to the deck slide open and the low tones of a woman softly crying.

His head snapped up; his hand still closed around the almost empty bottle. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his wrist.

“Wren?” he called softly. “Wren?” Caleb’s brow furrowed in concern.

The door shut with a quiet slide and soft click, and panic struck him. It had to be her. The crying belied that it was an intruder. The community was gated and guarded, and the property had it’s own security, but he was still freaking out with worry. He set the bottle down, and moved toward the door. His protective instincts insisted he had to find out if she was okay and the reason she was in tears. The day had been long and it could be expected that she was feeling overwhelmed.

His bare feet registered the warmth of the cedar wood beneath his feet as he made his way down the two flights of stairs that separated the levels of the deck, and then onto the smooth concrete that surrounded the pool. June wasn’t overly hot, nor was Colorado humid, but the early summer air was warm.

The pool house stood on the west side of the pool, which was landscaped with natural stone, waterfalls and foliage. There were motion lights attached to the deck that turned on automatically when he passed, and small recessed lights under the surface of the water that kept the large pool softly illuminated; the clear aquamarine blue surface pristine.

The structure in front of him had multiple paned windows practically from ground to roof, and contained two dressing rooms, two bathrooms complete with double showers each, and a main room outfitted with a pool table, a wet bar, several tables with chairs, and three plush couches. It reminded him of the clubhouse at his apartment complex in San Francisco, only nicer. The entire property was lined with an eight-foot privacy fence and Caleb had to hand it to his dad; nothing Luxon was ever half-assed.

There were three stone fire pits around the pool, and several luxurious upholstered chaise lounges and umbrella covered tables. Caleb hesitated just briefly before his hand closed around the brass handle of the one of the French doors that led to the entrance. They were also paned glass, and he tried to peer through for Wren. He didn’t want to frighten her.