Page 51 of Wreck Me
“Me too, Liliana.” I smiled warmly, shifting the keys in my hand, subtly signaling I was about to leave. She returned the smile. “I’m so glad I ran into you this morning. Have a beautiful day!”
“You too, Isla. And if I don’t see you before the holiday, please enjoy it and tell your father I said Merry Christmas.”
“I will. Absolutely.” Spinning on my heel, I moved down the hallway with tears of joy prickling my eyes and a smile that made my cheeks ache. Ihadto tell Caleb.
Not wanting to call again and seem like a crazy girlfriend by blowing up his phone, I pulled my cell out of my purse as I walked and typed out a quick message.
I have the best news. Call me when you can?
Approaching my car, I clicked the lock twice to unlock it before pulling open the door and sliding into the driver's seat. Sitting in my car, my excitement quickly morphed into fear. My father had threatened to take back anything with his name on it. I knew for a fact his name was on my car. Thankfully, he had paid cash for it when I turned sixteen, but if the title was in his name, I had no doubts he would rip it from my grasp just to spite me.
I blew a steadying breath from my mouth and yanked open the glove compartment, rifling around through the contents to find the title. Quickly, I realized the title wouldn’t be in the car. I did, however, come across the registration and the insurance, both of which were in my name. I took it as a good sign, and with a quick search online I learned that while the car can be registered to someone other than who’s listed on the title, it felt like it was safe to assume having my name on the registration would make it more challenging for him to just up and take the car away from me.
My phone danced on the passenger seat, vibrating to alert of an incoming message. Caleb’s name popped up on the screen, and I quickly swiped at his message. As I read the first, a second immediately came through.
I’m at work today and it’s slammed. I also have good news to share.
I’m off at 6. Are you willing to grab me from my house around 8?
Caleb had never asked me to pick him up from his house before, and I felt myself get giddy at his request. Would I meet his father? Does he want me to meet his father? Either way, picking him up from his house felt like a step in the right direction. My fingers flew across the touch-screen keyboard to respond to him.
Of course, send me the address.
127 Logan Grand Blvd.
Text me when you get there and I’ll come out.
Perfect! Have a great day at work.
Tossing my phone back onto the passenger seat, I checked my mirrors before reversing out of my parking spot. I couldn’t believe how quickly my day had turned around, and now I got to spend the day in one of my favorite places. It was a shame I had to spend it studying and not getting lost in a smutty book, but at least I would be at the library.
If you had told me when I was younger my happy place as an adult would be a public library, I would have laughed in your face. Back then, my comfort was more Burberry than Brontë. Now—well, it had been too long since I paid the library a visit, and I was excited to immerse myself between the shelves again.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
The headlights on my car illuminated the dark street as I idled outside Caleb’s house, waiting for him to come out. The street was lined with lights, but most of them were dark, giving an eerie feeling. He lived in a not-so-great part of town, but the street seemed relatively kept up on, aside from the lights. Still, I couldn’t help but double check my doors were locked a couple of times since I’d been sitting here.
I texted him almost ten minutes ago, letting him know I was outside, but he had yet to respond or come out. Shadows danced around me, my eyes playing tricks, and I debated on knocking on the door, but he had asked me to wait outside. If he wasn't ready to introduce me to his father, I had to respect that, right? What we had was still relatively new—only a few months.
After another almost ten minutes of idling, I turned off the engine and headlights, and made a snap decision to knock on his front door. He had told me eight, and even these last few weeks of having to rely on bus schedules and walking, he had never been late.
As I approached, I curled my fingers into a fist and rapped them against the door. The frigid December wind whipped around me, causing me to pull my jacket closer against my body as I tried not to shiver. Several long seconds passed before I knocked again, this time hearing a drawn-out groan directly after.
“Caleb?” I called, my heart rate accelerating, plagued with nerves.
A resounding boom came from the other side of the door, the crash sounding like a large piece of furniture colliding with the floor. The noise took me by surprise, and before I could stop myself I was twisting the doorknob of Caleb’s home and pushing the door open.
Taking in my surroundings, my panic turned to confusion as I watched who I could only assume was Caleb’s father, right himself from where he hung awkwardly over the end table he had tripped over. His leg was still twisted with the table’s leg as he stood, stumbling again but catching himself.
The man grunted with his movements, adjusting himself to standing upright, though he swayed on his feet. Caleb’s father—and I realized then I didn’t even know his name—blinked slowly, as though his eyes were still adjusting to his whereabouts.
He scrubbed his hand over his hair before pulling it down to rub against his beard that desperately needed to be groomed, wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a grungy, white t-shirt. In his hand was a half-full bottle of what looked to be vodka, which he held loosely by the neck. When his glassy gaze finally landed on me, confusion took over his face. I felt awkward under his stare, and with every passing moment he watched me, the confusion disappeared, and instead, a look I was familiar with from my own father blazed across his features.
Hatred.
“You,” he seethed as he continued to sway on his feet. He lifted his empty hand, pointing his finger directly at me.
I was so taken aback, I couldn’t figure out what to say as I stood in the doorframe of this man's home, but I knew I needed to figure it out quickly.
