Sadness breaks through the levee I’ve erected around my heart, and soon even that’s bursting, unable to withhold it forever.
Caleb clears his throat, pulling me from where it feels like I’m drowning. “I don’t whine.”
“More than a horse, dude. But it’s okay, because you make a mean apple crumble, which you promised to make for Thanksgiving dinner.”
His eyes flicker to mine. “You’re still coming to that, right?”
Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I hesitate. My mother and I never really did Thanksgiving when she was alive, on account of her usually being too high, so it’s another holiday I don’t necessarily care about celebrating.
Fiona does though, and for the last three years she’s had feasts delivered to my doorstep, before showing up for the weekend and helping me eat it all.
This year, though, Caleb wore me down, and I’d agreed to go to his mother’s house.
Of course, that was before Aiden James reentered my life just to sabotage it, and I’m not sure he’s the most appropriate dinner guest in his current state.
“Don’t you dare cancel,” Caleb says, pointing his finger at me. He leans in, eyebrows drawing together. “Live a little, Angel. You don’t want to end up like Mrs. Lindholm, with no friends and no one to stop by to entertain you when business is a little slow.”
“Mrs. Lindholm has friends,” I say, glancing out the window to her souvenir shop.
A shadowy figure sits on the bench just outside of it, long arms stretched over the back. He’s got on black jeans and a gray puffer jacket, the hood pulled up so it obscures his face, but I’d know him anywhere.
My stomach knots, roving over bejeweled fingers as they grip the wood, remembering how they felt inside of me twenty-four hours ago.
Then, I remember the denial and the threat that came after.
“Mrs. Lindholm has a bridge club who she likes to gossip with, but that’s about it.” Caleb sighs, taking another drink of his hot chocolate. When he pulls away, foam paints his upper lip, and he licks it off.
“What’s wrong with the bridge club?” Jade asks, folding her arms over her chest. “My mom’s in it.”
Caleb snorts. “I rest my case.”
I don’t know much about Jade’s mom, except that she’s a travel nurse and recent divorcée, but the way Jade’s eyes harden leaves me with the feeling that there’s more going on there than we know. And since I know all about complicated mother-daughter relationships, I feel responsible for changing the subject.
Swallowing over the lump in my throat, I reach forward for my laptop, sliding it into its leather case. “I’ll think about Thanksgiving,” I tell Caleb, looking out the window again.
When I do, Aiden’s gone, and it feels like a pit opens up in the center of my chest, demanding to be filled—with what, I’m not sure.
“If it’s a matter of politeness, you can bring your… houseguest.”
Jade turns to me, her black ponytail swishing against her shoulders. “You have a houseguest?”
“Uh… sort of?”
“Sort of, as in it looked like he wants to be more than just your guest,” Caleb says, his face scrunching up. I see a flicker of hurt there, hidden in his dark eyes, and it makes my stomach somersault.
“Well, I don’t know about that.”
Jade frowns. “Do we know him? Kind of rude of you to be dating and not tell us.”
“No, you—”
“It’s that singer she’s obsessed with,” Caleb cuts in, shooting me an amused look. “James something. You know, the one who was on the Sexiest Man Alive cover a couple of years ago?”
She just stares at him.
Sighing, Caleb rolls his eyes. “Jesus, Jade, you’ve got to join us in the twenty-first century.”
Reaching into her apron pocket, she pulls out a quarter, and chucks it at him; it smacks his chin, dropping into his lap, and she sashays away to the front counter.
Rubbing the spot on his forehead, Caleb looks at me and sighs. “Seriously though, Angel. You’re practically family at this point. I want to spend Thanksgiving with you.”
My chest tightens. “I’ll think about it.”
He watches as I slide from the booth, slinging my laptop case over my shoulder, apprehension lining my insides like sticky venom.
“You’d better,” is all he says, and I leave him there with both hot chocolate mugs, half expecting to be accosted the second I step foot from the diner.
The snow is falling a little heavier now, a light dusting covering the ground, but I don’t see anyone outside.
Don’t hear the crunching of footsteps or feel the heat from my stalker’s body.
There are no gray eyes piercing through the winter air, locking in on me like they can’t stand to look anywhere else.
For the first time in days, I’m completely and utterly alone.
27
“Okay, and if we bring in the harmony here, the transition to the bridge is a lot smoother… son, are you even listening to me?”
Blinking, I sit up straight, my hands falling to the electric guitar in my lap. One single pawnshop in this backwater tourist town, and the only instrument they had was a black Viper. The irony has stuck with me since I bought the damn thing, returning to my rental before this virtual meeting with my father.
Thoughts of snakes have me looking up, casting my gaze across the lake to where Riley’s cabin is still dark. She’s been out all day, and I get the distinct feeling that she’s avoiding me.
Like she thinks she can escape.
“…seriously, earth to Aiden? Good God, you’re worse than your mother.”
The mention of Callie has my eyes snapping to the computer screen in front of me, sitting forward. “You talked to Mom?”
“Not recently, no. Every conversation with her turns into a screaming match, and since I’ve got about a thousand conferences next week to go over your reintroduction to the world, I’ve been trying to save my voice.”
“Well, I bet if you tried not cheating on her, she’d be more receptive.”
“Christ, that was years ago, and we—” Cutting himself off, he reaches up, rubbing a hand over his bearded jaw. “You know what? Not worth arguing with you over again. Why are you asking about her, anyway? Has she not contacted you?”
I snort, leaning over my guitar. “She was barely speaking to me before I left.”
In truth, a canyon-sized rift opened up between us when the accusations of my sexual misconduct were leaked. And even though I’ve maintained my innocence and provided countless hours of testimony and evidence disproving the claims, she still looks at me like I’m evil.
My thoughts drift back to Riley, the way I finger fucked her in front of her friend yesterday, just because I could.
Maybe Callie sees the truth, and that’s why she stays away.
Maybe I am a monster.
“You sound disappointed, but trust me. The only thing you’re missing out on is the number of times she calls me hijueputa in a day.”
“Yeah, well. Looks like I should’ve appointed you manager after all.”
“Tried to tell you. There’s a reason Calliope Santiago doesn’t perform anymore, and it’s got nothing to do with me.”