Page 53 of Untouchable
“I don’t know. It was better than nothing.”
She felt small and fragile for some reason, so he tightened his arm around her. “Did you ever feel loved by anyone?”
After a pause, she breathed out, “Yeah.”
“Who?”
“He was…” The hesitation was odd. Caught his attention. “He was an uncle, but he felt more like a dad to me than my real dad. I loved him.”
“He died?”
She nodded mutely.
“He’s the one who was taken away from you?”
She ducked her head, hiding her face against his shirt.
He wrapped his other arm around her too and hugged her against him for a minute. Feeling this way was entirely new to him—like he was both giving and taking comfort—but he felt like he needed it, so he didn’t try to pull away.
12
Caleb was workingin his office several days later when his phone rang.
He picked it up to glance at the screen, preparing to ignore it, but when he saw it was Wes, he connected the call after all.
“Hey, are you in town?”
“Not yet,” Wes said, sounding unusually serious.
“Did something happen?”
“No. I was planning to fly in yesterday, but I couldn’t get away from work. I’ll come in next week now. But I was wondering if you’d do me a favor.”
“Sure.” Caleb replied automatically, but he was starting to feel a sinking in his gut, intuition telling him he wasn’t going to like this favor.
“Shit, I hate to ask, but Dad is as sick as a dog with the flu, and my mom needs to get in for a blood transfusion.”
“Don’t you have someone there to help them?”
“Of course. There’s always a nurse, but Mom’s gotten really…” Wes cleared his throat. “She needs someone she knows with her.”
“I haven’t seen her for years.”
“I know that. But she knows you. I know it’s a lot to ask, but they’re falling apart on me, and I’m on a different continent.”
Caleb couldn’t remember ever hearing Wes so stretched, almost helpless. All his well-practiced instincts at self-preservation were screaming at him to hang up, to get away. But he heard himself saying, “I’ll do it. When does she need to go in?”
“This afternoon. Can you get away?”
Caleb glanced at his afternoon, most of which was scheduled with meetings or calls, a sick weight churning in his gut.
“I’ll do it.”
As soon as he said the words, he knew this was the last thing he should have agreed to.
Three hours later, he dropped Wes’s mother back at their town house and could finally let out his breath.
He felt ill and exhausted in a way he hadn’t for years, and so many memories were bombarding him now that—if he didn’t distract himself soon—he might just go home and drink himself into a stupor.
