Author's Note: I appreciate you guys sticking with me, and for all the votes/comments/and criticisms. I hope this chapter satisfies some of your cravings for answers, and yes there will be more somber notes. ;-) I think it's only appropriate that I warn you readers in advance there is no sex as of yet. Caleb is a delicate character to work with, as you'll soon find out.
As always, this work is copyrighted, and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Peyton Gray quietly exited the house through the front door early that next morning, taking care to not slam it shut so as to not wake her house guest. Tightening the folds of her fleece jacket wrap around her, she followed the gravel path that led to the woods, her heart beating in her throat.
The bike was just as she had remembered it: mangled around the trunk of an oak, the back wheel completely missing from the frame. Her amber eyes roamed the forest undergrowth but the wheel was gone. With a sigh she extracted the bike and took a better look at it, cringing as she did so.
It was an old Schwinn, one of those early models that no matter how fast a person pedaled, they remained in one place. The bolts and chain were rusted and Peyton knew the Schwinn had seen better days at least twenty years ago.
Scooping up the frame she turned back to the rusty red house, her mind falling back to last night's events.
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After dinner, she and Caleb had settled onto the couch to watch the weather. After at least twenty minutes of reigning silence, she relinquished power of the remote to him to let him pick a show. Within seconds they were watching the newest episode of
Sons of Anarchy
and for the rest of the night, they were silent.
Not that Peyton minded. She was addled enough by Caleb's speech during supper. He hadn't yet spoken to her about finding help for whatever problem or problems he was facing. In fact, after he had straightened up over his stew, unclenched his hands, and thanked her for dinner; Caleb hadn't spoken at all.
Which was fine,
she had reminded herself. Caleb would talk when he was ready.
But the wait was slowly killing her.
After
Sons
was over, she showed him the bedroom and promised that in the morning she would bring him his bike. Anything beyond that was his decision. He had just stared at her, the blank look on his face mildly uncomfortable, so she had escaped upstairs and curled up under her bed covers.
For hours she tossed and turned as her mind raced with worried thoughts of what exactly was haunting Caleb. She wanted to help him, she wanted him to stop being such a stubborn hard ass, she wanted to know the truth, she wanted to kiss away his pain—
And that's when she decided enough was enough.
Peyton sat up in bed, her limbs exhausted from the struggle with her blankets, her head too busy to let her rest. A cup of tea would do her good, she hoped, so after donning her robe and moccasins, she descended the creaky wooden stairs to find the kitchen light already on.
Caleb was sitting at the breakfast table, a mug of tea in his hands. At the sound of her footsteps, he lifted his head and turned to look at her. His eyes were red-rimmed and his nose more than a little pink, but no tear trails stained his cheeks.
"You had the same idea I had," she told him with a slight smile as she headed towards the kettle. She poured herself a mug and dropped a few sugar cubes in before turning at the sink. Should she leave?
Caleb made the decision for her. "Stay," he grit out, his voice gruff.
Peyton sat in the same spot she had for supper, nursing her tea as she did so.
"Couldn't sleep?" she asked him, breaking the silence between them even as her conscience told her to shut up.
Caleb shook his head once, sniffing before lifting his eyes up to hers. "Tomorrow is going to be a bad day," he said quietly, clearing his throat afterwards to rid it of the gruffness. "I may miss work," he finished ominously.
The look in his eyes gave her the chills and for a moment, Peyton was too surprised to speak. "When is your shift?" Peyton asked hesitantly, changing the direction of the conversation. If Caleb was surprised, he didn't show it.
"Eight, the usual."
Peyton pondered this for a moment. "If you want, I can take you into work. I'll drop your bike off at Camden's afterwards so it'll be ready when you get off." Camden's was the only auto repair shop in town – thankfully she could work with gears as well as motors.
Caleb sat back in his chair, his eyes dropping to the steaming, still full, mug. For a few moments he studied his drink before nodding. "Okay."
"No trouble," she told him, saving him from having to say the two words that he struggled with the most.
Caleb met her eyes and inclined his head. The action was almost noble.
After draining her cup, she rinsed it out and set it in the sink, bidding him goodnight. She ascended the stairs, feeling his eyes on her back as she walked to her room, but was too shaken up by his warning to look back.
Peyton settled into bed and closed her eyes, allowing herself to ponder over his obvious warning, but failed to put the pieces together. Would he be in trouble for not coming home? Would he be punished for Mother Nature's power versus his thirty-year-old bicycle?
She had offered him the ride because she would hate for him to miss work – it was obviously the only time he felt good about himself and she didn't want to deprive him of that. At work he smiled, and Peyton wanted to see him smile again.
Peyton tossed and turned for a while longer before drifting off uneasily, her dreams more like nightmares. When she woke up again, this time at four in the morning, it was because there was a knock on her bedroom door.
Fearing the worst, Peyton had rushed up to open it, not surprised to see Caleb standing in her doorway. But she was surprised to see the dark circles and bags under his bloodshot eyes, and his nose was still pinkish-red in hue. Clearly when she had left him, he had not stopped crying.
"Can I come in?" he asked hoarsely, his green eyes practically glowing in the dim light of her bedside lamp. Peyton hesitated only briefly, backing away so he could step through. Leaving the door open, she watched as he walked slowly to her large king-sized bed and sat on the edge before putting his face in his hands.
Peyton was torn then. One part of her was sensing that the next few minutes were going to be rough on Caleb and that he needed her support and guidance. The other part of her was remembering all the fantasies she had of Caleb
whilst in this bed.
