Page 36 of Trick of the Flesh
She searches my face one last time, then nods. “Anda.Go. He needs you more than I do right now.”
I nod, then climb the stairs, each step weighted with the truth she left me. His door isn’t locked, but I hear the uneven rasp of his breathing before I even push it open.
The room is dim, lit only by a thin slice of streetlight through the blinds. Caleb’s on the bed, curled tight on his side, hoodie still on. His knees are pulled to his chest, his fists twisting the hem of the fabric like he’s trying to tear it apart. His breath comes too fast, shallow, and broken.
“Caleb,” I murmur.
He jerks but doesn’t turn. His shoulders shake. The air feels heavy and charged, and I know what this is—I’ve seen it before. Panic clawing through him, pulling him under.
I won’t let him spiral.
Stripping down to my briefs, I slip under the covers and press myself to his back. He stiffens at first, a sharp inhale that sounds like it hurts.
“Hey.” I wrap my arm around his waist, pulling him against me, anchoring him. “It’s just me.”
His chest heaves. “I—I can’t—” His words break, jagged and raw.
“Shh,” I murmur, pressing my mouth to the side of his head. “You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.” He shakes harder. His fingers scrabble at mine, clutching like a lifeline.
“Listen to me,” I whisper against his hair. “Breathe with me. In…” I exaggerate the rise of my chest, my hand spreading across his stomach so he can feel it. “And out. Slow. Just follow me, baby. You can do this.”
It takes time. His breaths stutter and catch until finally they start to match mine. Still shaky, but slowing, grounding.
“There you go,” I whisper, kissing the nape of his neck. “That’s it. You’re doing so well.”
His voice comes out small, broken. “She knows?”
I don’t answer.
“She’s gonna tell my dad and… and then?—”
The confession shreds my heart to pieces—I tighten my hold and nuzzle into his hair. “Sleep, Caleb. If he finds out, then we deal with it. Together.”
His breath hitches once more, then he sags into me, the tremors easing as exhaustion finally pulls him under. I stay awake long after, my mother’s words echoing in my head, staring into the dark. Because my mother’s words won’t leave me. Because Caleb deserves more than ruin. He deserves love.And whether or not she meant to, she just told me to give it to him.
“Take care of him. He needs love.”
I press a kiss to the back of his head and I realize I already do, but I need to love him the way he needs me to.
THIRTEEN
CALEB
Saturday is supposedto be a family day.
Celeste insists on it every year—the pumpkin patch, the hayrides, the little festival on the edge of town. She says it’s tradition, that it “keeps us close.” I used to roll my eyes, but now… now it feels like I’m walking out in the open, now that Miguel and I crossed that line.
Now that she knows.
Miguel isn’t fazed one bit.
I envy his ability to not give a shit about other people and what they think. Especially his mother.
He drives us out in his truck, music low, his arm draped over the wheel like he doesn’t have a care in the world. But every so often he flicks his gaze to me, just long enough to make me shift in my seat. He doesn’t need to say anything. The memory of his mouth on mine in the hallway last night is enough to keep me squirming.
The pumpkin patch is buzzing when we pull in. Families, kids running between hay bales, and couples taking selfies in front of the corn maze. It should feel safe. Bright. Harmless.
Itdoesn’t.
