< Chapter 52
Chapter 52
Bree
“So,” Caleb started, tucking his hands into his pockets, “how’s everything going?”
More Rewards
I looked up at him and c****d a brow. “That’s the first thing you’re gonna ask me?”
Caleb rolled his eyes, a small chuckle escaping him. “All right, fine,” he huffed. “Who’s the
guy?”
I hugged my journal to my chest and let a small smile tilt my mouth as I looked down at my feet. “Just someone I went to high school with,” I said, careful and clipped–knowing full well I couldn’t tell Caleb the truth. He’d run straight to Gage and blurt it out before I could breathe. He watched me like he was reading a map, his eyes tracing my face, searching for whatever I wasn’t saying. Apparently, it hadn’t been hard to tell I’d been rattled by Oliver–Caleb hadn’t hesitated to step in back there–and that was enough for him to know something was off.
“Just someone you went to high school with?” he repeated, not buying my half–hearted excuse. “You don’t look like that when it’s just someone you know.”
”
“Maybe that’s just my expression,” I offered, shrugging as if I could make everything seem smaller by pretending it was nothing. “Maybe that’s just how I look when I talk to guys.”
Caleb sighed and opened the dining–hall door for us, his movements smooth and easy. “I
know
you don’t look like that, Bree,” he said softly as we stepped inside. “You never looked like that talking to us.”
I kept my head low as we walked in, trying to make myself small, not wanting him to see too clearly the way my stomach had been twisting since Oliver appeared. People streamed past us–laughter, trays clinking, the low roar of a hundred conversations–and I focused on not meeting anyone’s eyes.
“Are you ever gonna forgive Gage?” he asked suddenly, the question shifting eve
between us.
ing
I blinked and lifted my gaze, meeting Caleb’s brown eyes full–on. “Forgive him?” I echoed, surprised by the directness of the question.
“For whatever he did,” he said, brow lifting, sincere curiosity laced with concern. “I mean, we all know something happened–something that made you say you’d never work–but why
< Chapter 52
not? What is so awful that you can’t forgive him?”
“It’s a lot bigger than that, Caleb,” I said, scanning the queue as we moved closer to the
service line. I didn’t want to answer in front of everyone; the thought of spilling the pieces of
my life into the air like confetti made my throat tight.
“So he did do something?” he pushed, pausing at the counter as the line slowed.
“It’s not something he did, per se,” I corrected, pulling up a sandwich and a packet of chips onto my tray. “It’s something I can’t move past. We just won’t work–no matter how much I
want us to.”
Caleb stacked his tray with the kind of efficiency that made me smile despite myself- chicken, a heap of veg, the kind of protein–heavy pile he always went for. He watched me for a beat, eyes thoughtful.
“So you love him, but you can’t be with him?” he said slowly, as if trying the syllables on to see how they fit.
“Exactly.” I scanned the dining hall for a table that wasn’t buried under a sea of backpacks and bodies, the noise pressing in. The words tasted like iron in my mouth–true and painfully
simple.
Caleb nodded once, like he understood more than he let on, and fell into step beside me. We moved through the crowd together, each step a little steadier than the last.
Caleb’s hand landed gently at the small of my back, guiding me toward a table he must have deemed perfect for us. His touch was steady, protective almost, as if he was determined to steer me somewhere safe. “But what if he’s it?” he asked suddenly, his voice thoughtful, still carrying that weight of curiosity as we walked.
“What do you mean?” I asked, lowering myself into the seat across from him.
“What if Gage is the one?” Caleb pressed, leaning forward slightly. “What if you never find someone like him again? What if you end up alone?” His questions came quick, almost like he couldn’t stop them once they started, one firing after the other, each one hitting harder than the last.
I cringed, unable to stop the ache in my chest. His words were too sharp, too close to the truth I didn’t want to face. Caleb was right, and it stung in ways I wasn’t ready to admit. Because deep down, I knew–I would never find another Gage. No one else could ever make me feel the way he did, so completely alive, so utterly consumed.
< Chapter 52
But still, I told myself I would find something. Some version of love, even if it was quieter, simpler. It wouldn’t be the same–not as fierce, not as wild, not as all–consuming–but it could be enough. I could still be happy with a man who cherished me, who loved me without hesitation, who didn’t come with a sister who had leaked my photos across the internet for
the world to see.
“Way to paint the picture, Caleb,” I muttered, forcing a breath out as I dropped my gaze to my sandwich, suddenly not hungry anymore.
“You know I didn’t mean it like that, Bree,” he said softly, his tone turning careful, almost comforting. “I just think there are too many what–ifs to walk away from this. From him. I mean, yeah, I tried to get with you at first, but it was obvious to everyone that you and Gage- “he shrugged, offering me a small smile, “-you were endgame.”
My eyes lifted to meet his, and for a moment I let myself really look at Caleb. The sharp, handsome features of a football player, his dark skin glowing under the dining hall lights, his strong jawline, those deep brown eyes that carried both warmth and intensity. He was undeniably attractive, and I knew he’d make some girl incredibly happy one day.
But he wasn’t Gage.
Maybe if Gage and I had never crossed paths at camp, if he hadn’t looked at me like I was the only girl in the world, if he hadn’t sought me out in that stubborn, relentless way of his… maybe then Caleb and I could have been something. Maybe I would be here now, giggling across the table, lost in the kind of innocent love that made everything seem flawless.
But it wasn’t Caleb’s eyes that shone a vivid green whenever they found me. It wasn’t Caleb who wore that infuriating grin that made my cheeks burn, the one punctuated by dimples that always hinted he was up to something. It wasn’t Caleb’s golden hair falling carelessly across his forehead, the strands Gage would shove under a cap to keep out of his eyes.
No matter how much I tried, all I could see in Caleb were the things he wasn’t.
“Apparently we’re not,” I whispered, lowering my gaze again.
Caleb sighed, but there was a flicker of determination in his eyes as he picked up his fork. We’ll see about that,” he muttered, before digging into his food with the appetite of someone who could devour an entire buffet without blinking.
