He gets up, then paces a quick circuit of the tiny room before returning to the sofa. “Honestly, forget about it—it was only an idea.”
I sit up a little straighter. “No, it’s yourdream—”
“Yes, one of them, but I’ve met you and you’re more important to me than indulging a bit of wanderlust.” He takes my hands. “What we have is too special to jeopardize.”
I shake my head. “Caleb, this is one of the reasons you and Helen split up—having different ideas about what you wanted from life. You can’t sacrifice your dreams for me. Six months apart would be hard, but that shouldn’t be a reason for you not to go.”
He nods, like he’s thinking about it. “I guess I’m just wondering why you dismissed it so quickly. I mean, it’s not like you haven’t traveled before. Won’t you at least even think about—”
“Believe me,nothingcould persuade me to step on a plane right now.”
And it must be something about the way I say it—the edge to my voice, the chill in my tone—that makes him pause. I feel his eyes on me, taking in the stiffness of my shoulders, my shifting gaze.
“Please, talk to me, Luce.”
I glance at him, then make a slow exhale. Why am I fighting so hard to hide a part of myself, my past, from the man I love? And perhaps it’s because the fire is roaring, and the tea has soothed me, and I feel utterly loved and secure, that I feel able to take a breath, and finally start to talk.
—
When I’m finished, Caleb doesn’t speak for a really long time. We just sit and listen to the sound of the fire spitting and crackling in the wood burner until eventually, I can’t take it anymore. “Say something.”
He rubs a hand through his hair. “I... I’m trying to find the words.”
“It doesn’t have to be anything profound or meaningful. Honestly. I mean, I’ve dealt with it.”
He drums his fingers rapid-fire against the arm of the sofa, like what he’d really like to be doing is tearing Nate to pieces with his bare hands. “I’m... I’m so sorry, Luce. This is... why you don’t drink?”
I nod. “Yes.”
He looks across at me, his expression stricken. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because... I hate talking about it. And I don’t want what happened to rule my life. I’ve dealt with it, and—”
Almost absent-mindedly, he moves one of his hands to gently grip my knee, a gesture that feels reassuring and protective. “You know he’s still stealing from you.”
I recoil slightly, a hot flicker of defensiveness in my throat. “No, he’s not.”
“Well, you don’t want to ever set foot on a plane again... what is that if it’s not stealing experiences from you?” His voice is gentle, but the point he’s making hits me right in the gut.
“I’m working through it in my own way.” I set down my now-empty mug on the coffee table.
“I get that, and I wouldn’t ever presume to tell you how to handle it. But it makes me furious, to be honest, to think that bastard’s grounded you here for the rest of your life.”
“Plenty of people don’t travel. It’s ridiculous to assume you can’t have a fulfilling life without going abroad.”
“You know that’s not what I’m saying. I wouldn’t care if we stayed in Shoreley forever, but I’d hate to see you make that decision out of fear. Are you... afraid that it’ll happen again?”
“No, of course not—”
“Because you know I wouldneverlet anything happen to you.”
“Caleb, it isn’t that I need you to protect me. It’s more... subconscious than that. I get nervous just thinking about it, the experience wouldn’t be worth the stress—”
Caleb suddenly takes my hand. “I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but there’ll be a way to take something positive from this.”
“Something positive like what?”
“Well, at the very least,” he says, “not letting that arsehole win.”
