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“My father made a statement,” he says.
“What did he say?” I ask, stepping toward him and touching his hand.
Reading his phone, he continues, “After serious contemplation, I’ve decided to separate from my current legal team and plan to fight these charges with the help of the most prominent and successful defense attorney in the city of Austin, my son, Caleb Goode.”
I feel the blood rush from my face as Caleb’s eyes drift up to mine. The shock and terror I feel in his expression shake me to my core.
“Oh my god,” I mumble. “You didn’t agree to this…”
He shakes his head emphatically. “No. Fuck no. Briar, Ican’thelp him.”
My arms move to pull him in, wrapping him in comfort. I hate to see him with such fear and worry. I wish I could take it all from him.
“I know you can’t,” I reply. “And you don’t have to. It was just a statement. He lied, Caleb.”
“That’s all he does,” he mutters into my shoulder.
I hold Caleb for a while, rubbing his back and feeling him breathe into my neck. As much as I hate this for him, I feel a sense of relief that he’s finally leaning on me. He’s letting me in.
“Mom!” Abby calls from the living room.
Caleb pulls away. Before going to Abby, I take his face in my hands and force him to look me in the eyes. “This doesn’t mean anything, Caleb. You can make a statement of your own on Monday after you meet with your team. This can be fixed.”
I watch the tension in his shoulders melt away as he nods. Then he leans forward and presses his lips to my forehead. “You really are an angel,” he whispers.
A smile stretches across my face. As my eyes meet his, he gives me a quick wink.
Then, at the unmistakable sound of our daughter vomiting in the living room, we both jump into action. We rush toward her together, consoling her as she sobs. Caleb pulls her into his arms and cradles her against his chest, not caring about the mess.
“I’ll get something to clean this up,” I say as I touch his shoulder.
As he’s carrying her to the bathroom and I’m gathering up the towels, we pass each other in the hallway.
“How quickly things go back to reality,” he says with a despondent smirk.
“Always,” I reply.
And it’s true. The fantasy never lasts long—but the reality isn’t half-bad, either.
Twenty-Five
Dean
Trying to focus on work feels impossible.
Ironically enough, my clients tonight are a hetero couple. But it’s nothing like last night.
Work is work, and fun is fun. And while this couple is lovely and very enthusiastic, it’s not the same—not even close.
I’m just a toy for these two. I’m just a thing they reach into the nightstand drawer to retrieve when their relationship needs an extra buzz. I don’t feel wanted. I don’t feel special.
And that’s fine. This is my job. It’s not like a barber wants to feel an emotional connection with his clients. So what the fuck is wrong with me?
I never,evercompare work to real life. But I can’t seem to get Briar and Caleb out of my head tonight. It’s making me bitter and resentful.
It’s mostly that kiss with Caleb that I can’t get out of my head. That brief but powerful moment when our tongues touched, and I know it was a huge deal for him. I found myself caught up in the heat of the moment when I pulled his mouth to mine, but I didn’t stop to think how that felt for him. But he didn’t panic or pull away—he kissed me back.
And I can’t stop thinking about it, even with tonight’s clients.
