I can’t place why he’d be so angry with me. “I–I don’t understand. Why are you so upset?” I’m not fighting against him, but he tightens his hold anyway.
Caleb busts through his bedroom door, and I’m just thankful he didn’t use me as a barricade. After throwing me into the room, he slams the door shut. “What were you doing in there?” He paces, running his hand through his hair.
“I-I–”
I try, but the words can’t come. I don’t even know where to begin because I don’t understand why he’s so upset.
He points to the door. “That is mymotheryou were just with.”
It’s then I understand. He has every right to freak out—he just found me with his only surviving parent after I killed his other. “I know,” I say softly.
“Does she know?” he snaps.
I shake my head. “I didn’t tell her.”
“Then why were you in there with her?”
He still doesn’t trust me, and I can’t blame him.
Despite his seething anger, I manage to recover my backbone. “I was only trying to help her. Her room needed to be cleaned.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
He’s so defensive. Triggered and scared, he can’t communicate the way I know we could.
I remain calm and hope he brings himself down once he realizes it’s safe to do so.
“Do you think I haven’t tried?”
That was the furthest thing from my mind, but clearly, he’s ashamed he didn’t clean it himself. I bet she’d never let him, especially considering she didn’t even want me to, at first. “I’m sure you did. You care for her. Why else would you be freaking out right now?”
Something about what I said cuts through his anger and brings him down. I watch the defensiveness leave his body. Soon after, he stops pacing, and his shoulders relax.
“It needed to be done, and it was easier to let a stranger do it than her own son.”
He looks at me, puzzled. “She just let you clean? Just like that?”
“Well, let is astrongword. I didn’t really give her much of a choice.”
His eyes soften. “Thank you.” He takes my hands in his.
The affection is unexpected.
I bite my bottom lip, scared to move. If I do, he might realize what he’s doing and stop. “I heard her in there with you. You—You made her laugh... I haven’t heard that sound in a long time. I was starting to think I never would.”
I hum at his love for her. “She loves you, you know?”
He peers up at me.
“She talked about you constantly. And about your dad.”
“She talked to you about my father?”
“I know. I think she really needed someone to talk to about him. You know, it’s hard when someone dies, and the world doesn’t end. People move on, and you start to feel left behind. Stuck. And it’s hard to catch up.”
He nods, taking in my words. “She’s been like this ever since he passed. I can’t get her out of bed.”
“That’s really hard. I’m sorry.”
