Ooft.The heaviness of that smacks me hard in the chest. Not just at what he said buthowhe said it.
His mom lefthim.
I feel the slight part of my lips as I try to think of something comforting,anything reallyto retort…but I have nothing. I’mnot a nurturing person by nature, this is Casey territory, I…fuck,what am I supposed to do here?
“Oh…”Really creative, Rosie.“I’m sorry.”
The night of the bar suddenly refreshes in my memory, I called him a mommy’s boy.Fuck.
He must see the realization hit me because he smiles again. “It’s okay. Really, you didn’t know.”
“Yeah, but I still said it. I’m a moron. I’m sorry.”
“No shit, Rosie Garcia, just apologized.” The humor lights up his face again as I lean down and hand him the beer. I’m suddenly stuck between wanting him to tell me the full story and letting him change the subject again to something lighter.
“Do…do you want to talk about it?” I wince at the way the words come out, and he barks a laugh, grabbing the beer, popping the top, and taking a swig.
“God no. Your turn.” He gestures to the cards and then averts his gaze. It isn’t until I’m busy sorting through my pile, trying to plan my next few moves with this remaining card, calculating his possible moves with the cards in his hand and the cards he has in front of him, that I notice his eyes on me and I double take, letting my eyes linger on him, anddamn.Those twilight eyes caught between blue and purple, are filling with something intense. It’s a mix of longing and sorrow. There is so much depth he hides in them they are almost begging me to dig deeper, to let him out from where he locks himself away.
I take a slow drink of my wine, and, in this moment, I realize, like a puzzle piece sliding into place, it all starts to make sense. I have the real Caleb Smith nailed down to aT. The womanizing, the humor, never spending a night alone, and never committing himself to a person…he hurts.
Just like me, Caleb Smith is broken.
“You cheated.” Caleb grumbles, arms crossed over his broad torso.
“I did not.” I cover my mouth and chuckle, the warmth and delicate buzz from the wine coats my skin. My cheeks hurt from smiling, my stomach hurts from laughing, and for the first time in a while, everything feels lighter. Like the rest of the world doesn’t exist and the night will just go on forever. It feels strangely a lot like peace.
“You had to have. This is ridiculous.” I crawl across the floor to a grumbling Caleb as I still try to stop the laugh tumbling out of me, another peg in hand, and slip it to Caleb’s collar. “Who came up with this rule anyway?” The pissy look on his face is priceless, adorned by four pegs pinned to his shirt. The loser has to wear a peg, which is a lot more humiliating when you’re playing in a room full of people, but I couldn’t resist the urge.
“Stop pouting, we know you love being pegged.”
His sour look turns to a stunned sneer. “Jesus!” He rears back, pulling the pegs from his collar. The reaction alone has me falling to my back in a laugh, the mirth coats me and tears prick my eyes.
“So…fragile,” I say between breaths as I lie on the floor in a fit of laughter. When I manage to peel my eyes open, Caleb’s hand is placed beside my head and he leers over me, a devious gleam to his eyes as he smiles.
“I’ll have you know, I am not a kink shamer. But pegging? Hard pass.”
“You don’t like ass play?” I say through a giggle, fighting the urge to bite my lip and failing.
“Oh, do not mistake me, Rosebud.” He uses a delicate finger to swipe a piece of hair from my forehead, his eyes tracking the movement, and a breath gets stuck in my throat, the touch sobering me slightly. “I’m an ass guy through and through. Just not mine.” That was hot but also weird, and I’m starting to get real confused with our whole dynamic here. Is it flirty or platonic?
I clear my throat and sit up, putting some much-needed distance between us. I can’t help but avoid his intense observation as I take a gulp of my wine.
“Learned a lot about you tonight,” he muses. “Seems we have more in common than I realized.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” He pulls his legs up, resting his arms on his knees. “You have no maternal connection. Neither do I.” He managed to get out of me that I am not close with my mother. He doesn’t know the extent, but after the piece of him that he offered up, it felt like I should even the playing field. “You have an intense work ethic and worked hard for where you are…despite Daddy’s money.” He winks at me after that last bit, but I remain quiet, choosing silence over sarcasm—for now. However, I’m a little thankful that he allowed me the credit of my career. Because sure, my dad could make a single call and I’d have whatever job I wanted, but he’s remained distant from my life at my request, and I have never used my name to leverage anything. I’d rather die than get by on clout alone. Everything I have, I earned…well, except for my black card and my closet. That isallDad. Suemefor wanting nice shoes to strut in when I show the publishing world who’s bitch they are.
“Mommy issues and a work ethic? Aren’t we just two peas in a pod.” I giggle and the games all seem to be forgotten as he allows himself to slide closer to me.
“Commitment is a no.” I dip my head in agreement as he continues, “Love is for pussies.”
“Love doesn’t exist,” I counter, and he smirks.
“So, what’s the problem?”
“What do you mean?”
