Page 65 of Holiday Star
“It’s not just them. It’s me, too. I don’t want you to live this life. I won’t do it to you.” He’s strained, each word high and tight. “When I saw all those cars out of your window, I knew it wasn’t right. You can’t fathom what it’s like to be hounded by them.”
A flare of anger fights against the numbness, momentarily pushing it aside. “It’s true. I don’t know what it’s like. But that doesn’t mean I can’t handle it.” It’s one thing for my family to underestimate me, but a whole different thing for Caleb to treat me this way. As if I’m too fragile for the world he lives in.
“No one can handle it,” he insists. “It’ll drive you insane.”
I begin to argue, but he cuts me off. “They’ll criticize everything about you, Gwen. They won’t pull any punches. They’ll talk shit about your clothing, your hair, your car, your friends. Nothing is off limits. If you lose weight, they’ll say you have an eating disorder. If you gain weight, they’ll say you’re pregnant.”
I suck in my breath. That’s a low blow, mentioning pregnancy. I’d be a liar if I said that I hadn’t already pictured it. What our children would look like. If they would have his eyes or mine. Those dreams are shattered, blown up by the grenade of his words.
“What about your work?” he goes on, relentless. “You think the hospital will tolerate it? One of their doctors attracting all that negative attention. It’s bad publicity, and you had better believe they’ll take it out on you. You could lose it all. Everything you worked so hard for.”
He’s telling the truth, but I’m too stubborn and idealistic to listen. “You don’t know that, Caleb. You can’t see the future. Maybe I could talk to the reporters. Get them to stay away from the hospital.”
His laugh is harsh. “Actually, Idoknow. Since I was a kid, I’ve been dealing with them. So much that I recognize most of them. I can tell you their names, that’s how well I know them. They’re like terrorists, impossible to negotiate with.”
“I’ll take the chance,” I persist, and even I’m surprised that I mean what I say. After my father died, I used to be so risk-averse.Dependable. Predictable.But Caleb has changed me. He’s made me bold. Let me be myself enough to find my own strength. If only he’d let me show him that side.
“No,” he says firmly. “I love you too much to let you throw it all away.”
Howdarehe use the word love right now? Fury heats my bloodstream until it boils.
“This is bullshit,” I yell into the telephone. “I’m a grown woman. You don’t get to decide for me. How can you sit there and tell me you love me and then leave? If you really love me, you stay and we fight together.” I’m shaking. That’s how angry I am.
A part of my mind is in denial, screaming that this isn’t happening. He can’t be slipping through my fingers. This entire day is a nightmare I’ll wake up from soon. The other part of me is furious, that this is my reward for being vulnerable. For putting my tender heart out there, only to have it stomped on by the person I trusted the most. He might as well shove a knife in my back and give it a twist.
I can practically hear him shaking his head through the receiver. “No,” Caleb repeats. “I spend all my time in my house, too worried about the fans and the reporters to go outside. Since the accident, I barely drive anywhere. You should be out in the world, traveling, working, sharing your gifts. Even a castle becomes a cage when you can’t leave.” There’s a rough intake of breath on the other end of the line, followed by a series of soft exhalations.
Caleb is crying.
That suppressed sob makes me worry about him. As he eviscerates my heart, there’s still a part of me that wonders who will take care of him if he cuts me out of his life. Who will help him become the person he wants to be? His parents, whom he doesn’t fully trust? The staff he pays, who prioritize his career over the real human Caleb?
“Please,” I beg. “Please don’t do this. You promised you loved me.”
He can’t speak, struggling to get himself under control. After several excruciating minutes, his voice shuddering, he says, “I do love you, and that is exactly why I have to let you go. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’m sorry, Gwen. It’s over.”
That’s it. The last time he speaks my name.
37
The next morning, I wake to the sound of a car door slamming. Pip barks downstairs. The deep timber of a man’s voice floats up to my room as someone from outside the house calls up to my window. “Gwen?”
He’s changed his mind.
I barrel down the stairs, still in my PJs, hair unbrushed and wild.
It’s not Caleb who stands in the doorway, but Jax, his baseball hat gripped tightly in his hands. I let him in, my face falling with disappointment. Pip sniffs around Jax’s feet as Jax gives me a tentative smile, which I don’t return.
“How did you find me?” I ask, my voice raspy from exhaustion and from the tears I’ve shed.
“Everyone knows where you are. The whole town is talking about how Caleb Lawson has been hiding out here with you.”
Oh, fabulous. Just what I need.
“Well, Caleb’s not here anymore.” Even saying his name hurts, each syllable a shard of broken glass in my throat.
I head to the kitchen, with Jax on my heels, as he says, “I know you probably don’t want me here, but I need to talk to you.” I ignore him, dropping into a seat at the kitchen table, where I stare vacantly at nothing. The table is empty. I put the puzzle away late last night, unable to stomach looking at it. The white tabletop is boring and bare without that splash of color. Much like my life without Caleb.
Jax coughs nervously into his hand. I wait silently for him to speak, not in the mood to ease his discomfort. Another change in me. I used to be so quick to help people out, even those who had hurt me.
