Page 12 of Just My Puck
They close the door behind them, leaving me alone with my thoughts. And the constant clamor emanating from the hallway. Someone is screaming their lungs out, and I just want to make it stop. Going to this guy’s place seems crazy. I mean, itiscrazy, right? I don’t know this guy—Caleb—and even if he protected me from that weirdo earlier, we’re talking actually living with him.
Then again, the only other option is to stay here, with the screams, disturbing noises, and strangers who might wander into my room. What would havehappened if Caleb hadn’t been here earlier?
I shiver at the thought.
Caleb’s face appears in my mind, and it brings an odd sense of comfort. He’s been nothing but nice to me. Obviously, he feels guilty for putting me in this situation, but that doesn’t mean his intentions are good, right? Gosh, I don’t know. How can I judge someone’s character when I don’t even know my own name?
Detective Wright did vouch for him, though, and being a seasoned police officer, he’s probably an excellent judge of character. And let’s say I’m one too.
A baby starts wailing outside my room again, and my headache resurges with a vengeance. How would I even get any rest in here? And the prospect of ending up in the psych ward doesn’t exactly enchant me either.
I press the call button, and a few minutes later, they all file back into my room.
“I think I’d like to come with you,” I say to Caleb, who offers a warm smile. “I just want to make sure I’ll have a way of leaving if I’m not, um, comfortable.” I glance at Detective Wright.
“Absolutely,” he says. “I’ll give you my card with my direct line on it. You can call me day or night if you need anything, and the social worker will check on you at Caleb’s address. We’ll have official paperwork drawn up as well. We’re keeping our eye on you. You are our responsibility, after all.”
“Okay.” I nod. “In that case, I accept the offer. Thank you,” I add, looking at Caleb. “It’s very kind of you.”
“It’s the least I can do. Besides, I’ve had my fair share of concussions, so you’ll be in good hands.”
“All right.” Detective Wright says, clasping his hands. “We’ll have some paperwork for you to fill out, Caleb, and then you’ll be free to leave.” He turns to me and adds, “I’m sure you’re eager to get some rest.”
“Oh, yeah,” I say, louder than intended, and everyone laughs.
“We’ll be right back,” he says with a nod.
Right before they close the door behind them, Caleb gives me another warm smile, and some of my anxiety slips away. I’m confident in my decision. There’s no way I’m staying in this place a second longer than I need to.
Once Caleb is done with the paperwork, we grab my prescription drugs, and I follow him through the mayhem of the hospital until we finally reach the parking lot.
He unlocks a large SUV.
“Are you all right?” he asksas we get into the car. The interior is luxurious, with buttery leather seats, a sleek digital dashboard, and that distinct new-car scent mixed with a hint of his cologne. I feel bad sitting here with my dirty, blood-covered clothes, but it was either that or the hospital gown. And since these are the entirety of my belongings, I went with the scratchy sweater and skinny jeans. I won’t lie, I struggled a bit to fit into these jeans, and I wonder why I didn’t buy a size larger.
“Yes, I’m fine.” I nod. “It’s all a little weird, but I guess this is my new normal.”
He rubs his beard, casting me a side glance. “Does your eye hurt?”
“No, the medicated eye drops helped, though seeing with only one eye isn’t ideal,” I say with a chuckle. “Maybe it’s my cue to become a pirate. Might be my calling.”
He frowns, then bursts into a low chuckle. “Okay, let’s get going then, pirate.”
“Aye, aye, matey. Let’s sail away.”
His chuckle turns into full-blown laughter, and I can’t help but join him. “Sorry, I’m just really tired.”
“I can see that,” he says, still laughing.
He starts the car, and we drive away. I watch the dark shadows of buildings whiz past, hoping one of them might ring a bell. That something will befamiliar. But it’s all a blur, and the towering structures all look the same.
Luckily, Caleb doesn’t live too far from the hospital, and we soon pull into a quiet neighborhood. It’s mostly just rows of townhouses, all of them dark and quiet, given the dead hour of the night. He parks in front of a modern townhouse with large windows and a sleek black door, a small porch light casting a warm glow over the entrance.
“This is it,” he announces as we get out of his car. We walk the few steps leading to his front door, and he unlocks it, waving me in first. We enter into a small foyer, where a coat rack holds a few neatly hung jackets, and a row of brand-new sneakers and boots lines the wall. A dark wooden console table hugs the entryway, its surface occupied by a single, surprisingly intricate dinosaur sculpture made out of LEGO, its tiny details meticulously placed.
Past the foyer, we walk into a narrow but inviting living room that’s decorated in earthy browns and beiges, giving the space a luxurious feel. In the back, I can make out a dining area, its dark wood table flanked by matching chairs, and beyond that, the faint gleam of what must be the kitchen’s countertops. To my left, a staircase with an elegant railing, likewise crafted of dark wood, leads both upstairs and down, disappearing into the shadows.
“Wait. Isn’t it Christmas?”I ask when I realize there’s no holiday decor in the fancy living room.
