"I can't bend my leg."
"Who says?"
I turn and look straight at Mrs. Reynolds. Is she kidding? Obviously I'm crippled. Okay, so not crippled. But I got hit by a car. I'll never be the same again.
"You bend your leg when you walk. Don't know why you can't bend it when you stand, that's all," she says.
I finally stand, then take a deep breath. I'm itching to say something, but can't. Mrs. Reynolds is the first person in over a year that treats me as though nothing is wrong with me. It's refreshing and frustrating at the same time.
SEVENTEEN
Caleb
Mom knocks on my door on Saturday night before she leaves for the annual Fall Festival. "Are you sure you don't want to go, Caleb? It'll be fun." Yeah, right. "I'm sure."
"Leah's coming, too."
How the hell did Mom manage that? Leah lives in her room as if she's a bear in perpetual hibernation. I think I've seen her more in the halls at school than I have at home. "I'm gonna stay home and hang out," I say. There's no way I want to go to the fair and be one of the main attractions.
Mom opens the door and peeks her head inside. "Your father and I would like you to make an appearance. Dr. and Mrs. Tremont are going to be there. Your dad relies on his referrals. Put on one of the new outfits I bought and show off the clean-cut person you are."
I don't feel like dressing up in clothes that make me choke, and putting on another fake "happy" show. "Is that what you really want?"
She nods. "I do."
"Fine, I'll meet you there later," I say curtly. This bullshit is wearing me down fast.
"Thanks, Caleb. I appreciate it," she says, as if she's talking to a colleague.
Who is this lady who I used to call Mom? I need to make her realize I'm the same person as before. She can love the old Caleb Becker without trying to create a new and improved one.
After my parents and Leah leave, I head outside and make myself some chicken on the grill. I'm gonna eat here in my comfortable, ripped jeans and t-shirt before I dress up like a banker and head to the fairgrounds.
I'm sitting at the patio table when I hear a familiar voice.
"I thought I might find you out here."
I turn to my ex-girlfriend. Kendra looks great, dressed in a tight, pink shirt and short, white skirt. No trace of conservativeness in her attire, that's for sure.
"You're not going to the fair?" I ask.
She comes up real close to me and bends down. "I went, but you weren't there," she says in a sexy whisper.
"Did you want me to be?"
"No, because I want you all to myself. You're a legend in Paradise. Everybody's clamoring for a glimpse of the mysterious and dangerous Caleb Becker."
"Is that what they think, that I'm dangerous?"
"I'm just reporting the rumor. You were in jail, you know. I heard a lot of things happened to you when you were there to make you change."
"And what do you think?" I ask, confused by her motives for coming here. "Do you think I'm dangerous?"
"Absolutely." She's looking straight at me, but I sense she's thinking about something else. "Was it really as tough as they say?"
"Sometimes."
She twirls her blond curls around her finger. "Did you think about me?"
"Just about every day," I admit. "What about you?"
She smiles. "I missed you. But I couldn't handle what happened."
"Don't sweat it, Kend. That night was totally f**ked
up.
"You're telling me."
I look at her sideways. I've been dying to know the answer to this question. "Do you remember what happened?"
She blinks twice before answering. "Not much. I was almost as plastered as you were and ran when the cops came. My dad is the mayor, you know. His daughter couldn't be caught in the middle of that whole messy scene."
"Uh huh."
"I didn't expect you'd go to jail, Caleb. I just ... it freaked me out."
"Freaked me out, too. But I'm back now."
"You sure are."
My ego needs me to ask this next question. It's strange, but this discussion is our way of figuring out where each of us stand in this relationship. "Have you been with anyone else?"
"Not anyone that matters."
What the hell does that mean? I'm not jealous. Okay, I am. But she's here with you now, a voice inside my head tells me.
And I missed her so much. Too much. I've dreamt about kissing her again, those full lips on mine, rubbing against her until I think I'll die from the sheer pleasure of it.
"Come here," I say, moving my chair out so she can sit on my lap. My libido kicks into gear, ready for this immediately. "It's been a long time, Kend, but I'm game if you are."
She settles herself on my thighs and wraps her arms around my neck. I watch her lips with interest as she smiles at me. Wet, shiny lips from whatever she put on them before she came over.
Whoever made that glossy lip shit up is a genius.
I take the curled ends of her golden hair between my fingers and twist them between my thumb and forefinger. Her hair feels different than I remember. It used to be softer. I always loved playing with it. "You changed the color," I say.
"It's lighter. Do you like it?"
What can I say, that it feels more like straw than silk? "I need time to get used to it."