Page 19 of Law Of Love

“She was the most beautiful young girl.” Jackie laughed. “Her smile was infectious. She wanted to be a singer and refused to talk most of the time—she’d sing instead.”

“I bet her voice was amazing.”

“I mean, I was always a bit biased, but yes, it was. She won her school's talent competition two years in a row. She’d been preparing for the third year but never got to attend. Sometimes, I play the recordings of her singing at night when I can’t sleep.”

“I'm happy Kaleb is back. It must be lonely here by yourself.”

“It is, but I understand my son has a career he's passionate about and wants to pursue. I don't want to be selfish and ask him to stay.” Jackie’s eyes watered, but she scowled, willing the tears away. “It's why your mother and I aren't as close as we once were. When Brie died, I isolated myself, and although she tried with me, I wouldn't speak to anybody. Kaleb had to look after me because I was bedridden. I just don't want him worrying about me spiralling again. He’s already given up so much.”

Kaleb had a tough outer shell, and it made sense why. I'd assumed he was just an arrogant and moody dickhead, but he’d been through a hell of a lot. His father had abandoned him, his little sister had been murdered, and then his mom had completely shut herself off, and he’d had to care for her—all while being young himself.

“I'm coping much better now, though,” Jackie said. “I just still have my moments.”

“Of course, that's normal. Nobody expects you never to be sad again.”

I felt guilty for mentioning my father and our debt. My situation didn’t even compare to Jackie’s. I was certain she’d take on millions of dollars of debt just to spend one more day with her daughter.

“I know you and Kaleb don't know each other well, but you aren't far off his age, and I wonder if he needs someone younger than me to ask if he's okay. He won't speak to me. He claims the anniversary doesn't affect him much and that he's fine, but I know he's hurt.”

I understood Jackie wanted me to converse with Kaleb to see how he was coping, but he was a closed book. There was no way that he would open up—especially to me, of all people.

“Kaleb has Brent,” I said, smiling. “I know he's a good friend of his. Don't worry, he's not alone.”

Jackie turned to laugh at my mother as she rushed past us with her phone to her ear, mumbling about how work never left her alone. “Thank you, Freya.”

“I’ll finish drying the dishes,” I said, and Jackie engulfed me in a tight hug before I made my way into the kitchen, gazing at Kaleb with curiosity. I opened my mouth to speak, but he furrowed his brows, running his tongue along the front of his teeth as he scrubbed at a plate in the foamy basin.

“I know what you and my mother were talking about,” he muttered, his jaw muscle flexing. “Don't even go there.”

Ten: Freya

The house was quiet, apart from the sound of the shower upstairs. Kaleb had been in there forever, and I knew that because I had spent the past twenty-five minutes imagining what he looked like under the hot jet of water. Broad shoulders melting into defined pectorals, with hard chiselled abs leading to…

My phone buzzed, and I glanced from my laptop screen to glare at it, Zach’s name popping up again for what felt like the thousandth time this morning. I hadn’t responded to him for a few days, and although I'd been dropping subtle hints that I wasn't feeling it anymore, he still wasn’t getting it. He was going to need to be told straight up. He clearly wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.

“Skipping class?” Kaleb asked as he appeared beside me, his hair wet, small droplets of water trickling down his neck. I couldn't help but admire him, and I was sure that he was clocking on to the fact that I liked how he looked when freshly washed.

“No, it was cancelled.” I put my laptop back on the coffee table in front of the TV, sulking. My brain wasn't working today, and I couldn't find the motivation to continue my essay. We were covering a particularly dull topic, and even Hannah—the biggest art nerd of us all—was finding it dry.

Kaleb hummed as he tilted his head at my sketch pad on the floor, moving closer to pick it up.

“No, don't,” I complained, but he was already gripping it in his large hands—the size of it compared to them making the pad look like a child’s toy. It wasn't a piece I was proud of, the colour theory clashing and my pencil strokes sloppy.

“You drew this?” Kaleb questioned, holding it up to me. His eyebrows raised as he pointed at the large, intricate drawing of an elephant drinking from a watering hole, a colourful woven blanket resting over its back.

I bit down on my bottom lip, shrugging. “Yeah, last night when everyone was in bed. Give it back.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“My panties are perfectly untwisted, thank you very much.”

Oh God. I was talking to Kaleb about my panties. Absolutely not.

I took the pad from him, closing it so he couldn't sift through and view my other sketches.

“Are you going to shoot today?” I asked, trying to fill the silence as I stared at my laptop screen, angry that the words weren't typing themselves.

Kaleb and I were now able to have surface-level conversations, and to me, that was a win. As long as we were under the same roof, we needed to learn to get along.

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