Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
A short silence looms between us.
Caleb adjusts his hands on the steering wheel. Clears his throat. “So, tell me, Aubrey, do you have a boyfriend?”
I snort-laugh. “You said that like we were in the middle of a conversation, and I’d just asked you the same question in reverse.”
“You did ask me the same question. Earlier today, right before our walk around the lake. Remember?”
I pull a face. “And you’re only now getting around to throwing the question back at me?”
“I had some phone calls to make, remember? Also, you were annoying the fuck out of me with your goody-two-shoes routine, so I didn’t feel like talking to you anymore.”
I scoff. “If not being willing to lie under oath makes me a goody two shoes, I’ll wear that as a badge of honor.”
Caleb rolls his eyes. “Do you have a boyfriend or not?”
“Why so testy?”
“Just answer the question.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Why did you want to know the same thing about me?”
“I didn’t. Don’t.”
“Then why’d you ask me the question?”
“I don’t think I did. I think I assumed one of your calls might be to a girlfriend, and you corrected me.”
“Same thing.”
“Not at all.”
“Just answer the fucking question, for fuck’s sake. Jesus Aubrey. Whether you asked me directly or not, you still got the information out of me. Fair is fair.”
I release a dramatic sigh, even though I’m feeling nothing but amused by his ornery tone. “No, I don’t have a boyfriend. I broke up with the only boyfriend I’ve ever had coming up on two years ago.”
Caleb looks pleased. “How long were you with him?”
“From our junior year of high school to almost two years ago, so you do the math.”
Caleb smirks. “Young love. It hardly ever lasts.”
“Especially when your boyfriend smacks you hard across the cheek during an argument.”
Caleb’s lips part. He looks from the highway to me again. This time, with blazing green eyes. “Your ex hit you?”
“Slapped me. With an open palm.”
“Did he do that regularly?”
“Just the once. But that was enough for me.”
“Damn straight, it was.”
“I broke up with him that same night and never took him back, despite him groveling and begging for months.”
Caleb lets out a slow exhale, like he’s trying not to flip his lid. “I’m sorry that happened to you, but I’m proud of you for not giving him a second chance. Those types never change, no matter how much they promise they will.”
“That’s why I left Prairie Springs and went to live with Claudia in Seattle. I wanted a fresh start.”
Caleb’s face goes dark. “He lives in Prairie Springs?”
I can’t help smiling. Caleb suddenly looks like a bomb-sniffing dog on a scent. “He used to. He moved away, shortly after I did. He worked construction for my dad while we dated, so when he slapped the boss’s daughter, he needed to find a new job, pronto.” Trent moved to Billings, actually. The city we’re driving toward right now. Or so I’ve been told by Trent’s sister. But based on Caleb’s murderous expression, I’m thinking it’s probably not the best idea to tell Caleb that additional fact.
“I bet your dad wanted to fucking kill him.”
“He sure did.”
“Were there any red flags? Or did the smack come out of nowhere?”
“There were red flags, yeah; but I ignored them. Little by little, Trent kept crossing lines and pushing the envelope; until one night: bam. I tried to grab his phone out of his hand because I thought he’d been texting with another girl, and he slapped me across the face so fucking hard, I stumbled back and fell to the ground.”
“Jesus fucking Christ. Did you press charges?”
I shake my head. “I was too embarrassed. Prairie Springs is a small town, and everyone loves Trent and his family.”
Caleb releases a long, slow exhale through his nose. “That’s how it was with my mother. My father smacked her around for years, and she never reported him.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“When I started making good money, I told my mother, ‘No more excuses. It’s time to leave him for good.’ And she finally did.”
My heart squeezes at the look of pride on his face. Clearly, this story—the fact that he was able to help his mother get away from her abuser—means a lot to him. “It sounds like you were a great son.”
Caleb glances at me, his green eyes pained. “Not when it mattered the most, unfortunately.”
I should probably leave it alone and not ask for details, due to the tortured expression on his face. But I can’t help myself; I’m too damned curious. “What does that mean?”
Caleb takes a moment to collect his thoughts, his eyes trained on the highway. Finally, he says, “After my mom got cancer, I moved her into my place, and I was by her side through everything. The band took a hiatus, since I didn’t want to travel. We said no to everything.” He sighs. “But when we were offered a performance slot at a big awards show in New York, my mom told me to go. She said she’d be fine. She wanted to watch me on TV. So, off I went. And it was that very night when Mom unexpectedly took her last breath, while I was three thousand miles away and couldn’t hold her hand, like I’d promised to do.”