“I’m sorry,” I say in a small voice. And it quavers. I clear my throat again.
“You should sit,” Caleb says, clearly sensing how distraught I am in this moment, how suddenly I’ve switched from pretending I’m fine to feeling utterly broken and confused.
“I don’t want to sit,” I tell him. “I don’t want to make myself at home.”
Hurt flashes across his face, and he doesn’t try to disguise it.
“You said you only came back to automate the lighthouse, to make Watchmere Light different, and then you’ll be gone again.” It almost sounds like an accusation, and maybe it is. But I don’t want him to think I’m attacking him. Not angry at him, not really.
I shake my head, try to rethink what I’m going to say, but it doesn’t seem to matter how hard I think about what I’m going to say. The words I’ve tried to bottle up for decades now are spilling out regardless.
“I missed you.”
“Ivy,” he says again. The light glints off his glasses, and I look away.
This time my name is a plea, and I close my eyes like that can protect me against it.
“You broke up with me,” he says. “What are you trying to say?”
The urge to cry hits me out of nowhere, but I choke it back because there’s already enough water on the floor. On me. On Gunner. Splashing around outside.
“What if I didn’t want you to leave again?” My voice is so small it’s a wonder he can hear me at all over the noise of the storm.
Gunner’s gone still. His face resting on his paws, staring up at me with his huge chocolate eyes.
I look back at Caleb. He seems as shocked as I feel by my sudden announcement.
“I—” He starts shaking his head and staring at me.
“I’m sorry,” I interrupt, shaking my head, coming back to my senses, trying to regain some of my dignity. It’s going to be a long night if I can’t regain some of my dignity. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. Please don’t. Just forget it.”
Caleb crosses the room, stands directly in front of me, places both of his hands gently on my elbows.
“I didn’t just come back for the lighthouse,” he says. “Or to deal with my uncle’s things.”
Lightning lights up the entire living room. Thunder follows shortly, like the whole world is rocked by that statement.
I certainly am.
“There’s never been anyone but you, Ivy,” he says. “Never. I thought that you didn’t want to be with me.”
“It wasn’t that.” My voice cracks, then softer: “I don’t want to be hurt again. Or hurt you again, Caleb.” It’s almost too much to process how fast this is happening.
I hold on to the whale mug like it’s a life raft. Well, chocolate’s always been my life raft.
A little giggle comes out, awkward and soggy, like I’m close to tears. Caleb’s gaze darts from eye to eye as he tries to take in what I’m telling him, his expression grim.
I don’t know what I’m telling him either. Maybe I’ve lost my mind.
“I’m sorry, I apologize. Just forget that. Forget I said anything at all.”
He steps closer, his fingertips pressing harder on them at the top of my arms.
“Ivy. I couldn’t forget what you just told me, even if a thousand years had passed and this lighthouse was nothing but a crumbling ruin. I came back because you’re here." His eyes darken, gaze darting between mine. God, he smells so good.
I want to just breathe him in, pull him close as I can and revel in it.
"Because all my life you’ve been an unanswered question that I wake up wondering what the answer is.” His throat bobs, thumbs stroking a firm line across my arm. "You’re the last thing I think about before I go to sleep at night and always have been.”
