Page 89 of Until We Break

He held up a plastic bag full of uncooked meat. The grin on his face dropped when he saw me.

“Hey, are you okay? I’ve been down here knocking for a while. The door was bolted. Since when do you lock it during the day? The lights are off. No texts, either.”

I shuffled away from the entrance to let him inside.

“Margot?”

I didn’t want to face him. I didn’t want him to know what today had done to me. I didn’t want him as a witness to the suffering and the pain any more than I had wanted to endure it.

“Are you okay?” He crossed the room and stood in front of me. I had no choice but to face him.

I shook my head. “I’m just going back up to bed.” I thought about maneuvering around him, but the cottage was small and Caleb took up so much space. I thought about crumpling into the strength of his arms. He could hold me. Tell me I’d be okay. Tell me tomorrow would be better.

I’d never let anyone do that. Not when my mother died. Not when my father died.

“Don’t go upstairs,” Caleb pleaded. “What’s going on? You’re upset. I can see that. Talk to me. What happened today with Ethan?”

My head whipped around. “How do you know it was Ethan?”

Caleb placed the bag he was carrying in the sink. “My dad gave us fish to grill for tonight,” he explained then washed his hands. He strolled back to the living room and led me to the couch. “It’s a small island. People talk.”

I felt a small tremble begin in my spine. “No.” I shook my head.

“It’s okay. It’s just gossip. Nan’s my neighbor. Well, my parents’ neighbor. They know it’s gossip. But I’d like to know what happened. Did you find out why he came from New York?”

“I did.”

“What did he say?”

The nausea rolled into my stomach. I ran from the couch and straight for the hall bathroom.

“Margot!” Caleb called after me. I slammed the door shut and heaved into the toilet.

He knocked on the door. “Are you okay?”

“Just go. I don’t want you to see me.” I couldn’t pick myself up. I couldn’t push off the floor. I had nothing left.

The door opened and Caleb crept inside. He grabbed a towel and ran it under the sink before gently wiping my forehead, cheeks, and mouth with it. He pulled my hair off my shoulders and lifted me from the floor.

“I’ve got you.” He put a heavy arm around my waist before carrying me to the couch. He stroked my forehead for a minute then brought a fizzy ginger ale topped with ice. “Here. Your stomach might take this better than water.”

I sipped slowly. “Thanks,” I croaked.

“Now will you tell me what happened today?” His eyebrows rose.

I clutched the cold drink in my hand. It counteracted the hot clamminess in my fingertips.

“Ethan had something he wanted to tell me. Something to ask me.” I had to pace myself. “He found out that his father has cancer.”

“I’m sorry to hear it. That’s terrible. Rough news I wouldn’t wish on anyone. But what does that have to do with you? Were you close with his dad or something when you dated?”

I shook my head. “No. But I was dating Ethan when we learned my dad had cancer.” I closed my eyes. I wished I had told Caleb this story sooner, then it wouldn’t be so hard to relive it another time today. Everything would be easier if I had shared more.

That was the problem with sharing. I always screwed it up. It was as if I had no barometer. No natural instincts on the levels and timing. I either went too far or held in too much. I shared it all with Ethan. The pain. The fear. The utter hopelessness. I gave him glimpses into myself no one else had with my father’s diagnosis. When he forced me to move out, the betrayal was deeper than the depths of a canyon. He taught me a cruel lesson.

“I don’t think I’m connecting the dots.” Caleb looked confused. “So why did he come all the way here to tell you? He could have called. It would have been easier and saved you both a lot of problems.”

I felt my eyes brimming with giant hot tears. “He wants me to go back to New York with him.”

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