“Ballroom dancing?”
I’ve got to hand it to him. It’s a creative date idea, but it’s nothing like the simple dinner I was expecting.
Though I try to hide it, the horror I feel leaks out as I say, “What if I step on your toes?”
He scoffs. “What ifIstep on your toes?”
Focus averted, I pick at the edge of my nail. “I’d be okay.”
“Exactly, so why would you think I wouldn’t be if you did it?”
Stomach hollowing out, all I can do is shrug. “I’m not sure.”
He comes to a stop at a light and zeroes in on me, once again using his fingers to gently tilt my face up. “I take it none of the men in your life have been very understanding.”
I give him a sad smile. “Seems like all the guys my mom brought around had tempers.”
As for my own experiences with men, I never let it get that far. Sex and nothing more. But I don’t think Caleb wants to hear that.
“I’m sorry she did that.”
I clear my throat and force myself to hold his gaze. “I’m sorry she thought she didn’t deserve better.”
The light changes and he eases off the brake. A moment later, we’re on the interstate, and he’s got one hand on the wheel, the other wrapped around mine again. “Do you want to talk about her?”
“There’s not much to tell.” I look out the window as the trees blur past. “She’s my mom. Sometimes she was good, but most of the time she forgot I even existed. Then, for some dumb reason, she got pregnant again.” The moment the words are out, I regret them. “I wouldn’t change anything,” I clarify. It’s the truth. “I love my brothers, but she’d never shown more than a passing interest in me. Mostly, I was a burden or an inconvenience. So I don’t understand what she was thinking. After the boys were born, she spiraled further. Year after year, it got worse. The drugs and alcohol. She didn’t work and eventually turned to selling herself to pay for her habits. And when she triedto sell drugs to an undercover cop, then offered him sex to let her off, things didn’t go well.”
Caleb sucks in a harsh breath, his cheeks hollowing.
Shit. I’ve probably scared him enough to send him running. Maybe it’s for the best. He clearly comes from a privileged family. Even if they’re not perfect, like he’s alluded to, he was certainly more taken care of than I was. He’s the literal golden boy, while I’m the girl from the wrong side of the tracks.
“We can turn around,” I say softly. The words cause a fissure in my heart, but offering him an out is the right thing to do. “If you don’t want to go on a date with me anymore.”
The car veers to the right sharply as Caleb takes the exit we almost pass, and I hold on to the dashboard for dear life. Rather than whip around and get back on the interstate headed back toward Hawthorne Mills, he brakes heavily and comes to a stop on the side of the road.
“What the fuck?”
He undoes his seat belt and shifts so his whole body is facing me. “You think that would deter me from taking you out? You think your past has any bearing on my feelings for you?” There’s hurt in his voice and etched into the lines of his face. “Fuck, Hal. I’m just… I’m trying to wrap my head around how your mom could take you and your brothers for granted like that. The three of you are incredible. You deserve to be cherished. She chose herself and her vices over you. That’s shitty. And it breaks my heart that you grew up in that environment.”
“But you were so quiet,” I defend, turning to face him, arms crossed. “What was I supposed to think?”
Despite the way his nostrils flare and the passion in his words, he doesn’t scare me. Time and again, he’s shown me that he won’t hurt me.
“I needed a moment to process my thoughts,” he says, voice gentler than before. “I didn’t think I should come out and tell you I hate your mom while we’re on our first date, but fuck, Halle, I really hate your mom.”
A soft, disbelieving laugh leaves me. “Thank you. I think.”
He cuffs my neck gently, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against my cheek.
“You expect me to run, and I get it. No one has ever stuck around. But I need you to know—I need you tobelieve—that I don’t plan on going anywhere, not as long as you want me.”
This man. His words suture up those cracks in my heart, just like that.
How does he always know exactly what to say to soothe my frayed edges? It’s unfair when I feel like I constantly stumble over my own words.
I wet my lips and manage a breathy “okay.”
“Okay,” he echoes, nodding once.
