Page 69 of The Persistence of Thornes
“Oh.” My cheeks heat, and not because of the suggestive comment I’m only now registering. Pushing down my embarrassment, I force myself to make eye contact. “My mom was really weird about food. Sometimes she’d pick up food from McDonald’s, but only for herself. If I even asked to share the fries, it would trigger her rage.”
The blue of Caleb’s irises deepens. “Halle.” My name is a soft exhale from his lips. “I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to apologize for.” I lift a shoulder. “You didn’t do it.”
He searches my face, lips pressed together like he wants to say more but is holding himself back.
I’m grateful for his tact. I don’t want to talk about my crappy childhood. Not on our first date.
“Dig in.” He gestures to the plate with a swish of his hand.
The trauma of the situation still clings to me, making my instinct to refuse hard to ignore. But I’m not that little girl anymore, and this is the perfect opportunity to work through one of my many trauma responses. So I reach for a cheese stick. It’s delicious, as I expected, causing a little moan to slip from between my lips.
Relief washes over Caleb, his expression lightening and his posture straightening.
“This is delicious.”
Smiling, he snags another for himself. “Ty makes the breading and sauce himself.”
“This place is a serious hidden gem. I’ve never been to a restaurant much fancier than this one, but I imagine he could be working in one in Boston if he wanted.”
Caleb nods, humming in agreement. “He could, but here, he can follow his passion while still having free time to spend with his kids.”
The waitress appears out of nowhere, a plate in each hand, and the two of us snap back, only now realizing how close we’d drifted together.
When she’s gone, I say, “Family means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”
He dips a fry into some sort of sauce and pops it into his mouth. “It does,” he says when he’s done chewing. “My family is small. Just my parents and me. But Salem and Thayer, those kids, Laith… they’re my chosen family.”
“You don’t talk about your parents much.”
He gives a gruff sigh. “My mom is overbearing and pushy. My dad only really cared about me when I was playing football.” He shrugs it off like none of it really affects him, but there’s no hiding the sadness in his eyes. “You probably don’t want to hear this. You’ve had it way worse.”
On instinct, I lay my hand on top of his on the table. “That doesn’t make your feelings about your own childhood any less valid.”
He flips his hand beneath mine and rubs his thumb on the inside of my wrist.
He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. Sometimes validation is enough. There is no competition here. We both endured trauma; we’ve both been affected by it.
Thirty minutes later, we’re on our way back home when my phone rings and Quinn’s name appears on the screen.
My gut immediately sinks. It’s not a normal response for most people, but I’ve been conditioned to assume that something is wrong when one of my brothers calls.
“What’s up?” I ask, trying my hardest to keep my tone even.
“Could we stay the night with Cynthia and Thelma?”
Confusion swirls through me.What?“You guys want to have a sleepover with Cynthia and Thelma?”
He blows out a breath, the sound crackling through the line. “It’s not a sleepover. We’d just stay the night. They’re going to teach us how to make their secret cookie recipe and brownies.”
“I…” I blink, still trying to wrap my head around the question. “Yeah… that’s all right with me if they’re okay with it.”
“They are. Thanks. Hope your date was good.” Without waiting for a response, he ends the call.
For a moment, all I can do is stare down at my phone in stunned silence.
“What was that about?” Caleb glances over but quickly focuses on the road again.
