Page 58 of All Along

We definitely would have done something wrong if his phone hadn’t beeped since nudity is not allowed in the library. There’s a sign stating as much as you enter. I blame Chloe. She had a thing for streaking in public places for a while during high school.

“I’m not fleeing. I want to check there’s not a big crowd at the entrance.”

He squeezes my hand. “It’s okay. With you by my side, the crowd won’t bother me.”

“I guess you better keep me by your side forever then.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

I was teasing but he appears serious. My breath catches in my throat. Is Caleb as serious about me as I am about him? Are all my dreams coming true?

Chapter 21

“Someone needs to give Maya’s parents a lesson and I just volunteered for the job.” ~ Caleb

Caleb

Where are you?

I shouldn’t ignore Maya’s text. But I can’t tell her where I am. She’ll lose her mind and come after me. And I refuse to allow her to breathe the same air as her parents any longer.

If I could kick them off this island, I would. Hell, if this doesn’t work, I’ll get all of Maya’s friends and boyfriends together and we’ll throw a ‘kick the Jenkins off the island’-party. I wouldn’t be surprised if all the smugglers on the island joined in.

Caleb. I’m worried.

Damnit. I can’t ignore her being worried. Not after I nearly lost my mind with worry over where she was yesterday.

I’m safe.

I hit send on the message and switch my phone off. I can’t have it beeping and distracting me. My task is too important.

I watch as Maya’s dad drives into the garage of her parents’ home. I don’t wait for the garage door to shut before I step out of my truck and make my way to the front door.

I ignore the doorbell in favor of pounding on the door.

“What’s your hurry?” A woman – Maya’s mom I assume – shouts from inside the house.

I pound on the door again.

“I’m coming. I’m coming. Hold your freaking horses.”

The door opens to reveal an older version of Maya. She has the same honey-blonde hair and pink, pouty lips Maya does. But her face is lined with wrinkles and her eyes are hard. Maya’s eyes are warm and sparkle. But her mom’s eyes are full of a lifetime of regret.

I understand how regret can eat away at you. But I also understand taking responsibility for your life and your decisions.

“Who are you?”

“Invite me in,” I order.

“I’m not inviting someone I don’t know into my house.” She rakes her gaze over me. “Hold on. Are you Caleb?” Her eyes light with recognition. “You sure grew up well.”

“Invite me in,” I insist between grit teeth.

She sweeps a hand toward the interior of the house. “Come in. Come in.”

I enter and follow her into the living room. I take a moment to study the home Maya grew up in. The furniture appears expensive with its classic design and leather fabrics, but it also looks brand new as if it’s never been used.

The entire room reminds me of a display in a furniture store. Everything is perfect. There are no depressions from people sitting on the couch, no drinks left out, no blankets to cuddle under. It’s cold and clinical.

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