Page 79 of Caleb
“You need to get your shit together,” he says. “We’ve got less than a month left before we leave, and I’m sure you don’t want to say goodbye to Miss Murphy earlier than expected. Or not at all.”
I sigh and throw my head back against the edge of my mattress.
“I don’t trust that guy, Aaron,” I say, and it’s the truth.
“Oh, I’m sure you don’t.” His tone is laced with mockery. I don’t appreciate it; it only nudges the embers inside me to keep burning.
“I don’t like the way he looks at her.” I get up from the floor. “Or how he reacted when that drunk guy bumped against them at the bar. He’s got that psycho look in his eyes that I’ve unfortunately seen more than a few times back home while serving in the military. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.”
“I wasn’t looking into the guy’s eyes,” Aaron says. Well, I was. I’m always looking when it comes to Red. And I can proudly say I never miss a beat. “And don’t tell me you wouldn’t have reacted the same way if you were the one standing next to her when the drunk guy bumped against her.”
“I—” I take a calming breath through my nose. “I know her, and she knows me. And I would do anything to keep her safe. At any cost. Even if my life depended on it.”
“Caleb, you shouldn’t—”
“The guy’s known her for what? Five minutes?” I cut him off. “Why does he care enough to get that worked up? It’s clear to me that A) He’s got some bottled-up anger issues, or B) He knew who she was beforehand and had been hunting her until he finally saw the opportunity to approach her and was trying to impress her or some shit like that. And neither of those two options work for me.”
Aaron shakes his head and scratches his jaw like I’m deranged. And maybe I am. I will be deranged for her if needed. If her safety and happiness depend on it, I’ll gladly walk over the ledge and launch myself into madness.
“Either way,” I say through my teeth, trying my best to ignore Aaron’s attitude toward the situation, “he’s a senator’s son and is probably a spoiled, Ivy League brat like most of them are. So I’m sure it’s best to try to keep those types of kids away from her.”
“You’re just jealous.” He stares into my eyes, challenging me to say otherwise. And I am ready to admit that to myself because not only is it true, but it doesn’t mean anything other than I’m a loyal, protective man who cares about people enough tofeelsomething. “And that’s becoming a problem. A problem I warned you about before you even met her.”
“Yes, I’m jealous,” I admit, defeated, the words stinging my tongue the second they leave my mouth. “But I’m leaving soon, so if you seemeas a problem, it oughta solve itself in a month.” A searing sensation strikes me in my gut at the mention of me leaving.
I can’t fucking take it anymore.
Annoyed, I walk toward my dresser, pulling my hoodie and t-shirt along with it over my head and tossing it on the bed to find my first drawer empty. Well, it’s still filled with clothes, but my vodka is gone.
He wouldn’t dare.
Looking over my shoulder, I shoot a fiery glance at Aaron, who’s crossing his arms at his chest like hediddare mess with my stash.
“You’re destroying yourself with that crap,” he says. “It’s been years of me pretending like you’re fine when you’re not. And you’ve been doing better about Yonathan. I will admit that. Miss Murphy has helped you heal as much as you’ve helped her.”
She has. She saved me, and she’ll never know it. I’ll drag that truth with me to the grave. I can’t make myself open up to her like that. Not when I made her promise not to bring up Yonathan ever again. Why would I? I know it’s too painful a wound to pick at it. I’m afraid to see if the feelings are still buried deep inside me or if they’ve slowly seeped out of me over the last few years. But it doesn’t matter when thanks to her, I feel like my life has a purpose again. It’s just sad and ironic that my purpose is once again getting ripped away from me.
“Don’t throw Yon into this,” I warn. I can’t go down the Yonathan rabbit hole. Not right now. Not with him. I’ll go insane.
“I won’t. But I’m afraid you’ll fall off the wagon again. Start drinking like you did when you got here four years ago.” His gaze is filled with compassion, the genuineness of it throwing me off. I know Aaron cares about me. It pains me to realize he noticed how broken I was and how much it hurt him to see me in that condition. “I’ve never seen you like this, so tortured for a girl before.”
Dense silence hovers between us as I take in the full weight of his words.
“Are you in love with her?” Aaron finally asks, his voice softer, calmer, cautious.
A deep sense of panic hits my bones and overwhelms me.
I don’t think I’ve ever been in love, so I don’t know what clues I should be looking for in myself to confirm that monumental affirmation. All I know is there’s an ache that lives rent-free inside my chest, a constant bone-deep soul-ripping yearning for her, and a drowning sadness that consumes me every time I remember we’re parting ways. Which has been all the time ever since I found out.
I grab the manila folder with the contract I signed a few days ago from the small desk in my room and place it against Aaron’s chest. “I can’t talk about my feelings.” I laugh a sad laugh. “Or sure. I’ll go ahead and do it if you’re willing to pay the fine.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He grabs the folder and tosses it back on the desk. “You can talk to me.”
I sigh.
“I love her, Aaron,” I admit to the crime. “And you do too. You’ve known her since she was a child. You’ve protected her and have been there for her in her darkest moments. And I like to believe that I’ve been there for her too. I’ve helped hercome outof that darkness. So yes, I do love her.”
I yank my nightstand drawer open, grab my pack of menthols, and light one up.
