“Put her on speakerphone,” Caleb says when he feels left out, so I set the phone on the counter. I want to shower the smell of disinfectant and latex off my skin as soon as possible, but Aunt Del is still talking, letting us know that she left some food in our fridge.
Caleb pulls it open and groans.
“Thanks, Aunt Del. I’m starving. Hospital food isn’t for me.”
“No, it’s not,” she says with a laugh.
They chatter a bit more while my body starts to come down from the adrenaline. My ears start ringing, and my eyes start to feel heavy.
But I still hear, “When you’re recovered, we’d like to have you over to celebrate the engagement.”
My heart stutters and then speeds up once more. God, I lied, and here I am paying the price. But I wasn’t in my right mind. Caleb was hurt, and I was in the one place I hate the most.
When they finally hang up, I see Caleb staring at me, a smirk on his gorgeous lips. Any other time, I’d want to kiss and bite at those. But right now, I turn my body and start cleaning the sink. My mind can’t help but conjure up visions of Caleb in the hospital bed. His beautiful body bruised, his gorgeous face scraped to hell.
Even if I wanted to kiss him, I wouldn’t do it now.
Caleb’s words interrupt my thoughts, his voice light and teasing, “When are we getting married, huh? I’m thinking of a summer wedding.”
I huff and peer over at him.
He’s leaning against the counter, refusing to sit on the couch like I told him to when we arrived. Our eyes catch, a snag, a pull, and then he’s moving toward me, his arms wrapping around my waist, his face tucked into my neck.
The feel of him against me, warm and reassuring, has my entire body trembling with pent-up emotions. The way he feels against me, the safety of this apartment, makes it all unravel.
He must feel how I’m falling apart because he squeezes me tightly and whispers, “Hey. Hey, baby. Come here.”
I drop the sponge and, with soapy, wet hands, turn into him and bury my head in his shoulder. Despite his stay in the hospital, he still smells like himself. It’s comforting to know this hasn’t affected him like it’s affected me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, trying to hold it in, but it’s too hard.
It all comes tumbling out.
“No, no need to apologize,” he says, running his good hand up and down my back. I’m stiff, tense, everything suddenly feeling overwhelming.
“I…I’m a mess. I hate…I…” I clutch at his shirt, and he presses a reassuring kiss to my temple.
“Whit. Is it me teasing you about being engaged? I know this is casual…I was just being an asshole.”
“No, it’s…I hate hospitals. I just hated seeing you in there. You have to be more careful next time. I can’t see you like that again.”
He’s silent a moment and then nods. “Okay, I’ll do my best to stay out of trouble.”
With a shaky exhale, I meet his gaze. He wants to know more, and for some reason, I want to let him into this part of my life.
“I…I spent a lot of time in hospitals growing up,” I murmur.
He swallows roughly and then asks, “Why?”
“I wasn’t well…mentally.” That’s only part of the truth. But it’s a large part.
Silence settles around us, and I know I have to tell him a little more. I want him to know this about me. I’m tired of hiding myself.
Caleb’s beautiful eyes stare at me, soft and reassuring. He wants to know more, but he’s quiet, waiting for me to open up. My hands twist in his shirt, and I hold my breath.
“I hated my life. Hated my parents. I…I tried to kill myself more than once. It didn’t work. It never worked…”
“Shit,” he murmurs. My body shakes as I remember it all—the pain I felt after waking up, realizing I was still alive. That there would be more pain once I returned home. I had nothing to live for then.
