Page 54 of Free to Dream
“I’ll take some home if it tastes as good as it looks,” he promises. It’s like he knows just what to say to put me at ease. He steps away, moves back around the counter and picks up a chicken pot pie turnover. Before taking a bite, he says, “Just show me where you want me?”
Grabbing two wine glasses and the wine key, I make my way over to the bottle he left on my end table and gesture toward the outside patio. I’m grateful my mouth didn’t have an attack of verbal vomit and blurt out I wanted him upstairs.
In my bed.
It’s like it was made for him.
Maybe when I was dreaming I did.
* * *
“I thinkyou probably got the most choice view out of all of your siblings, Pixie,” Caleb comments some time later.
We’re ensconced on my double lounger overlooking the water on the property. There are two heat lamps keeping us mostly warm while we soak up each other’s company in the cold evening. Most of the food, with the exception of the crock pot dip, migrated out with us. For someone who claimed I made enough for twelve, Caleb probably ate enough for ten. We’re now nibbling on some fruit and cheese as the moonlight dances over the water. We’ve also managed to polish off one bottle of wine. Caleb has switched to water, whereas I’m still cradling the dredges of the first bottle. We’re both full, mellow, and relaxed.
“I think more than the space, that’s what called me to the carriage house,” I admit.
“The water?” he asks, not looking at me.
“Yes. There’s just something that calls me to it. When I’m upset. When I need to think. When I just need to breathe. And while we’re not far from the ocean, I can’t get there that easily.”
“We’ll have to take you out on the boat sometime,” he declares.
I sit up so fast, I almost dump my wine. “You own a boat?” Seriously? When the hell did he have time to go out on it?
Laughing, he reaches out and grabs my shoulder to pull me back down next to him, closer than I was before. “Nah. We have a membership to a boating club where you can take boats out each weekend during the season. Neither Ry nor I want to put forth the effort to maintain the boat when the season is so short here.”
“Ah, so you’re lazy,” I reply, cheekily. “I understand now.”
“Lazy! Why you—” He rolls on top of me and starts to tickle me, relentlessly. And I can’t fight back, as I’m holding a goblet of red wine over my head, giving Caleb easy access to my left rib cage.
Shrieking, I kick my legs out in modified self-defense. “I give! I give,” I screech, laughing.
Dropping a kiss on my lips, he rolls off me. Taking the wine from my hand, he snags the blanket at the foot of the chaise and pulls it up over us as I settle back against him. Snuggling against his warmth, his arm tightens slightly over my shoulders as I lean my head against him.
“How is it I just feel so comfortable with you, Caleb?” I muse quietly. It’s the truth. I’ve met a few men over the years as attractive as Caleb, but none who have set me at ease. Ever. I’ve never felt the urges I guess normal women do.
In the incredibly short time I’ve known him, I feel lighter, less burdened. Maybe it’s because he knows the worst there is to know about me and doesn’t care. He just sees me. Cassidy. Not the victim that was, but maybe the woman who has been hiding and waiting to break free.
I don’t feel traumatized that he knows, I feel relieved. Like a cautious bird, I feel like I’m taking perch on a limb. I don’t feel the need to flee. But there’s something in me telling me Caleb will scare off the predators who will cause me to flee.
I feel his lips brush the top of my hair. “Maybe because we’ve both witnessed versions of Hell and come out the other side, Pixie. Maybe we recognize that in each other, and know the things we’ll fight about and for are pretty much in line with one another.” He goes quiet, getting lost in his thoughts.
I look up at his profile. I feel him absentmindedly stroking my hair, his attention over the water. His profile is tight in his memories? In mine? I reach up and touch his chin.
“Hey,” I whisper. His eyes cut to me immediately. Even through the combined darkness and their dark pools, I can see something churning. “What is it?”
His eyes close as I continue to trace his strong jaw. “In many ways, Pixie, when I left the Army, I felt like I left one hell to walk straight into another.”
Because of my conversation with Jason, I know exactly what Caleb is referring to, but I know he needs to get it out. “I’ve been told I’m a good listener.” I say, quietly.
And just like that, Caleb starts talking, holding nothing back. He tells me everything from when Ryan came out to when he joined the military. He talks about what it was like being born into one of the wealthiest families in New England, and how growing up with a legacy of men who served, he was expected to join. He talks about how he never expected the camaraderie, and how he could shed the mantle of being a Lockwood and focus on serving our country. He tells me about Ryan’s side of what happened, including the abuse he suffered at their mother’s—or as Caleb calls her, the birth vessel—hands, just for realizing he was sexually attracted to men. Because it was a black mark against the purity of the Lockwood name. His anger at his mother doesn’t scare me. If anything, it solidifies what I already knew about this man. He doesn’t strike out for pleasure, but only in protection, and only when justified.
Caleb goes on to tell me about why he left the military. About how a Skype call with Ryan’s drunk ramblings about his first broken relationship with Jason after years because he was falling for Jared. Ryan, now wary of love, didn’t feel like he could trust in Jared. Caleb wanted to get on a plane to straighten out his brother immediately, but he couldn’t. At the time, he was on a critical undercover operation where he was gathering preliminary intelligence on a hidden military target in Western Europe for an unnamed terrorist sect. He naturally leaves out any information about the group or the operation, but tells me about how he almost took a bullet because he was so distracted over Ryan’s potential breakup with Jared. And about how Keene walked in, saving him, taking a bullet to the thigh meant for Caleb’s forehead.
“When I left the military, I bought Hudson, and Keene came with me.” He looks down at me. “You know, we don’t just work there, we own the place. Keene and I needed the challenge and we knew working for someone else wouldn’t work for us. Keene was about to be medically discharged from our unit, but not the Army due to the injury on his leg. He could have been riding a desk, worked as a lawyer or Intel, but he would’ve been riding a desk. If he was going to be behind that desk, he figured he would throw in with me and make money doing it.” He sighs. “I need you to understand why I didn’t just abandon him to his asshole ways. We’ve done everything together since we were kids. Prep school. College. The Army. And then there’s Riley.” Caleb let’s out a deep, heartfelt sigh.
“Who’s Riley?” I ask quietly, taking a sip of wine, remembering the tattoo on Keene’s leg.
