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He takes a couple steps closer. “I’m sorry—”
“It’s fine,” I interject, cutting off his apology.
“I would have called to say I wasn’t coming, but I don’t have your number.”
I figured—understandably—that Caleb had totally forgotten he was supposed to meet me Wednesday morning. The knowledge he didn’t isn’t entirely welcome, causing an uncomfortable twinge in the center of my chest.
“Your speech was nice.” Caleb scoffs. I think it’s in response to my words, so I feel obligated to explain them. “I judged what people said to me after my parents died. But it wasn’t because I knew what they should say instead. I still don’t, obviously.”
“He was a dick.” The words are so quiet, I barely hear them.
“What?”
“My grandfather. He was a dick.”
“Oh.” I look away, back at the gray horse. I know I should follow that solitary syllable with more, but I’m too busy processing the curveball Caleb just threw at me. Why didn’t he just say thanks?
His honesty draws a little of my own out. “At least you tried,” I offer. “I didn’t—couldn’t—say anything about my dad. I just tossed some dirt. And that was that. I didn’t say anything. True or made up.”
I feel Caleb’s eyes on my face, so I keep mine fixed on the gray horse moving steadily away from us. “What about your mom?” he asks.
A long exhale of air rushes out of my mouth as I run a finger along the top of the rail. The white paint is flawless. There’s not even a small chip. “I read a poem. I was too young to come up with anything else, and it—losing her was different. She didn’t choose to go, you know?”
“Yeah,” Caleb says softly. “I know.”
And then he reaches out and rests his hand on top of mine. An electric jolt travels up my arm and shocks my entire system. It’s the accidental brush of our fingers amplified times a thousand. Because thisisn’taccidental. It’s purposeful.
Heat spreads throughout my entire body, making my lungs tighten and my heart pound erratically.
“I should, uh, I told Cassie I’d be right back.” I pull my hand away, gnawing on my bottom lip.
Caleb nods, his face impassive. “Okay.”
“I’ll see you?”
“Yeah,” he replies. “You’ll see me.”
“Okay.” I feel off-kilter and confused. Unsure. It shouldn’t be this difficult to have a conversation with Caleb Winters.
I turn and head back into the throng of people in search of Cassie.
Leaving him standing there.
CHAPTEREIGHT
LENNON
The damp paper towel helps, but my face still feels sweaty and gross even after I’ve wiped it repeatedly. Glancing at the clock above the sink, I ball up the paper towel and toss it into the trash.
Landry High requires students to take one semester of gym each year, and that we do fitness tests as part of the curriculum. I didn’t need to wheeze around the track four times to know I’m not in the best of shape. I prefer to let the horse do the running, and I don’t exactly build up much cardio endurance hauling hay bales.
To make matters worse, I had to watch all the other seniors with the unfortunate fate of having gym second semester—including Madison and Caleb—jog around the football field effortlessly.
With one last anxious glance at the clock, I leave the locker room and hurry in the direction of the newsroom. Andrew hates when we’re late.
Instead of the usual hustle and bustle, I’m met with complete and utter silence when I walk inside. No one has moved from their desk to the center of the room where we usually hold our meetings.
It doesn’t take me long to figure out why.
