Page 55 of Free to Dream
“She was Keene’s sister. She was kidnapped when she was four from their family home. He’s never given up hope she’s alive, and it’s been twenty-five years this past summer. That’s why he got the tattoo with her name on it. He refuses to believe she’s gone because no one’s ever asked for ransom and they’ve never found her body.” Caleb runs his hand through his hair, his pain evident.
“Did you know her?”
“We’re about six years older so I do have some memories of her. She was a pretty little thing. Loved Keene—day to his night. After she was taken, his mother died soon after. Some think it was of a broken heart. He’s never been the same since.”
I feel a crushing pain for Keene. How does he live with that? My harsh words last night protecting my right to choose whether or not to start something with Caleb replay through my head. The food and wine I ate start churning in my stomach. I feel so ashamed over the way I used it to taunt him.
God, I was such a bitch.
“Don’t, Pixie. I can feel where your mind’s going. Keene has the right to make decisions for Keene, no one else. What you did last night,” Caleb’s hand firmly tugs my hair so I meet his eyes across the dark, “was something that may make Keene question his actions toward others and start to bring him back from the demons only he fully battles. They’re locked inside him. I can’t reach them, and trust me, I’ve tried. Don’t ever question what you did last night. You stood up for your rights, and my rights. You stood up for the possibility of an us. Do you have any idea what that means to me?”
I shake my head no.
Caleb releases my hair and slides his hand up to the back of my neck where my amaryllis tattoo rests. His fingers absentmindedly trace the edges as his eyes remain locked on mine. “You made each other a promise to stand with each other. A vow?”
I don’t remember telling him that, but then again, I told him so much last night I probably did. My head is in his hands so I know he can feel when I nod.
“I feel like last night you did the same thing for us. You fought for a chance, Pixie. We all have our demons and dark places we wake up from in the middle of the night. We know they never go away. It’s in how we live the day-to-day that keeps them at bay.”
Something that’s been worrying me since the minute he asked me out comes spewing out of my mouth. “You don’t think I’m tainted by what happened to me?” I hold my breath, scared of how he’ll answer. As close as we are on the lounger, I literally feel his body lock. His immediate fury is almost palpable.
“What did you just say?” His voice is scary quiet in the dark of the night.
“I said…” I don’t even get to finish. I’m flipped over onto my back so quickly, the breath whooshes out of my lungs. Caleb’s face is mere inches from mine and he’s breathing fire.
His arms are bent at the elbows, braced on either side of my head. The strength in his muscular frame pushes mine deeper into the lounger. I’m caged in, but I don’t feel trapped. His fury over my question is evident in his harsh breath against my face and narrowed eyes, but I chance looking into his eyes and wait to see things I expect.
Disgust.
Revulsion.
Pity.
None of that is there. But it’s his words take away the last concerns I have about that.
“Cassidy, you were a baby attacked by monsters. Monsters, for the love of fuck. For people who say they don’t exist, they need to get their head surgically removed out of their asses and wake up to the real fucking world. You have no idea of what I fucking want to do to the people who hurt you. I pray they’re all dead before I find them.” I’m in shock over the depth of emotion I feel coming from him.
“I want your eyes to spark when I tease you. I want you to smile and laugh. I want to take you out and hold your hand. I want to get so buried inside your soul, the last thing you think about is kicking me out of it when you realize I’m no good for you, when I lay my own demons on you. What I don’t ever want you thinking is that you’re tainted by your past.” He ends on a whisper, his eyes boring into mine in the dark.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph.
Is this normal?
To feel so much this quickly?
Because it doesn’t feel like I’m the only one.
I see the swirl of my own emotions race across his face. Need, want, fear, hope. It’s the hope that pulls me under.
I reach up and slowly drag my fingers over his face—tracing it, but not touching it.
The slow movement of his head as his face turns back to mine, eyes wide, would almost be comical under any other circumstances. “What?” he whispers.
“It’s just something I do when I want to remember something important. When we didn’t have money for a camera as kids, I used to do this to take a picture and put it in my permanent memory album.”
Caleb’s face contorts before he gets it under control. He bows his head to get it closer. Running my fingers through his hair, his head snaps up and I’m now cupping his chin. His lips brush the center of my palm, the tingle that courses through my system raising all the fine hairs on my skin. It’s both the softest and warmest of caresses.
“You truly are the strongest person I’ve ever met, Cassidy Freeman. I want a chance. Just the chance,” Caleb’s voice rasps in the dark between us.
