Page 136 of Untouchable
She and Caleb were both quiet as they rode home in the back of the car.
She felt nervous and exhausted both, and she was still a little sore between the legs from the way he’d fucked her before dinner.
Everything seemed wrong—not the kind of twisting poignancy she’d felt with him before but a kind of crushing knowledge that everything about this situation was just not what it should be.
If only she could take the last step and bring the wrongness to a close.
She had to think of something. And she couldn’t wait another week.
“What are you thinking about?” Caleb asked out of the blue. He’d been staring out at the darkness through the car window, and he hadn’t turned to look at her, so she didn’t know what prompted the question.
“Nothing, really.”
“It feels like something is wrong.”
He knew her so well, if he could pick up her mood through the silence. It frightened her and touched her at the same time.
“What was Wes referring to earlier, about the hospitals?” she asked, remembering that strange look she’d caught between them and wondering about it again.
Caleb turned his head to face her, and his eyes were defenseless, so tired. “He was referring to my sister.”
She frowned. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”
“She died. I was a kid.”
“What happened?”
“She had cancer. It took her over a year to die.”
She caught her breath, realizing he was telling her something he never told anyone, something that was closer to his heart than anything else. She remembered half-finished conversations they’d had as he’d talked around this one thing. “How old was she?”
“She was thirteen. I was ten. I spent so much time that year in the hospital…” He trailed off, closing his eyes.
“Your parents let you?”
“They were… always busy. Someone had to stay with her. I couldn’t leave her there alone.”
“Oh God, Caleb. You were a boy. It shouldn’t have been your responsibility.”
“Who else’s?”
Her throat was so tight she couldn’t speak, she couldn’t breathe. She took off her seat belt so she could move over to him and wrap her arms around him. “No wonder you hate hospitals now.”
“I can’t stand them. They make me physically ill.” He took a strange, shaky breath. “I don’t talk about this with anyone.”
“I’m glad you told me.” She leaned up to kiss his jaw. “What was her name?”
“Mallory.” He felt tense and shaky and so real in her arms.
She held him tighter. “I was ten when my uncle died.”
“I know you were.” He leaned against her. “We’re alike in so many ways.”
And that might have been the deepest truth of all.
28
The following day was Sunday,and Kelly had figured out what to do to get into the storage room.
