One Step Closer: A stepbrother, stand-alone novel. Page 6

  His heart had sunk to his stomach at the prospect of leaving Wren behind, but she was all that mattered. He’d sobered and said the only thing he could say. “Okay.”

  It was in this very room and Caleb remembered it like it was yesterday. He made it a point to stop his thoughts; he didn’t want to deal with those demons right now, because depending on which choice he made, he could be re-living that day for the rest of his life. No doubt, the next few days would be the test.

  “I don’t know if Wren will even want to see me, so I’m sure she won’t want to be tied to me for five years. We’ve been through a lot.” He understood why things had been strained between them, but that didn’t make it easier on either of them.

  “Honestly, Caleb, you should read both versions and then make a decision. It’s really about what you want at this point,” Jonathan said. “I was as surprised by the contents of Edison’s letter, also, and depending on your decision, and what you’ve said, Wren may not believe she is needed here.”

  “Then why didn’t you wait to call her until you knew what I’d decide?”

  “Because your father knew what you’d choose,” Jonathan said simply. “I was instructed to call her first.”

  The lawyer’s words, and the fact his absentee father thought he had him pegged, pissed Caleb off. After all this time, everything that had happened, and the lives he and Wren built separately, was it still so fucking obvious?

  Wren. For years she’d been the reason he did everything. The reason he stayed in high school, the reason he didn’t run away from home; the reason he left... but she was blissfully unaware of any of it. Fuck!

  The silence boomed around Caleb like a thunderclap, broken only by the painful thudding of his own heart and the rasping of the breaths being dragged in, and painfully pushed out, of his lungs.

  When he’d heard the news a day earlier, he’d been like a zombie, simply going through the motions. Since then, his eyes had remained as dry as a desert. He was in shock, no question, though a sick ache had begun to take hold deep down in his gut. It was too soon to tell if his reaction was due to his father’s death, his manipulative bullshit, the undisclosed details of the wills, or trepidation of a possible confrontation with Wren that had him tied up in knots.

  Obviously, Wren was the main component in whatever decision he made. But, Caleb didn’t understand why, if Jonathan knew what choice he’d inevitably make, why didn’t he just destroy the version that gave Caleb everything? Why put Caleb through the hell of deciding, for Christ’s sake? His face twisted sardonically as he sighed heavily, attempting to ease his tension. At the same time, his hand pulled at the front of the expensive linen button down he wore.

  Caleb felt as if an elephant was sitting on his chest; the tightness making him feel claustrophobic and he wanted to claw at his lungs. Claustrophobic. That was the only way to describe how he felt. He didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to make this decision; maybe he didn’t even want to see Wren, because it always ripped him open.

  My father would be so proud of himself. He has me squirming like a fish on a hook, one final time. The diabolical prick, he thought.

  Caleb tried to remain passive and adopt the mask he'd become so good at plastering on his face whenever he didn’t want anyone to know how he felt. A skill he’d mastered to keep his inner turmoil secret all those years ago, though it didn’t mean that he wasn’t ripped to shreds on the inside.

  Why did love and pain have to be so fucking indistinguishable? Like living things, yin and yang, one completely impossible without the other.

  Like me and Wren.

  Jonathan sat on the couch watching Caleb’s silent struggle as the young man’s hands visibly shook while sifting through the contacts on his smart phone.

  Caleb tightened his grip to steady them. When Wren’s name landed on the screen, he stopped at it automatically, his eyes locked on the word as his thumb traced over the individual letters. How many times had he done this? Practice stopped him from dialing her number. It must have been at least a hundred times. So often, he needed to hear her voice, but only allowed himself to call on her birthdays or holidays, and for an occasional family event.

  Caleb spent years rebelling against everything his father wanted or expected of him, He’d tried to make Edison’s life as miserable as possible but in the end, Wren was the sacrifice.

  Payback was hell, but it had backfired, and Edison still had Caleb under his thumb; shoving one last lesson down his throat. There was always another lesson to learn, and the harder it was, the better. Even from the grave.

  Caleb almost laughed at the irony of it. He had to admit, most of the time, he hadn’t appreciated his father’s methods, but dying was rather extreme. Caleb had spent years telling Edison to go straight to hell, and maybe he was, but he was sure as shit having the last laugh. That bastard.

  Caleb knew the other shoe was about to drop, the repercussions would be massive, and it would ruin everything he was about to accomplish professionally; and probably screw up his personal life.

  The only thing he knew for sure were that he didn’t want to make the choice. And if Wren was a factor, no doubt, she would be his first consideration; old habits were hard to break. No doubt, it would complicate things with his current girlfriend, Macy as well.

  Obviously, he wasn’t as good at hiding his feelings as he’d prided himself, but was he so transparent? Obviously, or Jonathan wouldn’t have summoned Wren home to Denver on his father’s command. He could only pray that Veronica wasn’t hauling her skinny ass within a hundred miles.

  The two envelopes now lay heavily in Caleb’s hand, and after taking them he sat back down, this time on one of the large, matching chairs.

  Since Jonathan had already read Edison’s letter, Caleb hoped he could skim through it. To read it would make his father’s death real, and the rest of this impossible situation more tangible. He was used to being gone from the house… but the last time, he thought he was gone for good.

  “There’s a method to his madness, I’m sure. He never does—” Caleb stopped and swallowed, correcting himself, “—he never did anything without a very calculated reason.” Though Caleb wondered if it was truly noble motivation or just another thing to make his son miserable.

  This shit was going to rip open so many fucking wounds.

  Edison was dead, but the son-of-a-bitch was still laughing his ass off.

  If only this were just about me, the answer would be easy, Caleb thought. But, it’s about Wren. It’s always been about Wren.

  CALEB WAS ANXIOUS at the prospect of seeing Wren. Would she want the security that Lux Pharm could give her, or would she just rather live her life?

  He struggled with his choice. Should he tie his life to Wren’s for the next five years? Her life was full now. She had a successful career, maybe a relationship for all he knew, and probably no amount of money in the world would be worth screwing it up. He sighed deeply, the sound filling the silence around him. His life was also rolling in a steady direction and whether he split the estate with Wren or kept it all himself, it would send him in a different direction; if not forever, certainly for the time being. His father had effectively plugged any loopholes that would allow him to avoid this decision, so really it didn’t matter what he wanted.

  But, what did he, want? Realistically, he and Wren had lived on opposite ends of the country, which would complicate everything if he chose to share it with her. Though money was the last thing he wanted from his father, it would help him start his automotive design firm. But… it would mean putting everything on hold for five years, first. His thoughts raced, and Caleb ran an agitated hand down his face. He could walk away and lose everything, but then, Wren would, too. Fuck.

  The decision weighed heavily, like his need to love Wren had always wrestled with his conscience. Apart from twice in the past, he’d always put her first. The regret he had over hurting her on both of those occasions haunted him and fought with his selfish heart. Tw
ice, he’d made a decision about Wren, to benefit himself, and neither had turned out well. Could he make this decision without talking to her about it? Would including her only put something on her plate she didn’t deserve to shoulder, and would she be selfish enough to be honest about what she wanted? Caleb had his doubts.

  New anger and hatred surged for Edison Luxon. Damn him to hell!

  Caleb’s chest felt tight as he carried his one bag down to his old bedroom in the basement of the huge house; the three envelopes Jonathan had given him felt like fire in his left hand. Shit, by most people’s standards, the place could be considered a mansion, but without his mom and now, without Wren, it was just an elaborate prison; a silent reminder of things he’d rather forget. Well, most of it, anyway.

  He did have some good memories within these walls, on the grounds, and in the garage or pool house, but every one of them was tied to one of the two women. Though he cherished so much, he associated more with pain or guilt, rather than pleasure.

  After his talk with Jonathan, it was clear to Caleb he’d have to confront all of them in the next few days or he was at risk of screwing everything up.

  The basement was full of remembrances of Wren. Good or bad, happy or sad, it was full of her. It had everything they’d needed, save a kitchen, and they’d spent a lot of time there because it turned into a sort of escape.

  After his mother died, he’d taken up residence in one of the spare rooms off the entertainment room down here because he’d wanted to put as much physical distance between himself and his father as possible. There was a second set of stairs leading down from the kitchen; which made coming and going undetected easier, even with the cameras and security system. With the garage entrance a few feet away from the top of the stairs, he was able to keep to himself without much notice from his dad or his stepmother. After the hag showed up on the scene, his father had been even more distracted and it was harder for Caleb to garner any attention, even when he was trying to piss him off.

  God, he hated that woman. He’d wanted to kill that cold, jealous bitch on more than one occasion. She was selfish, for sure, and at times, Caleb doubted she even had a conscience at all.

  At the bottom of the stairs, he turned the dimmer switch on full and the massive room was flooded with light. His room was at the far end, separated from the massive and elaborate theater room setup, by a full glass-enclosed gym on one side, and the Italian marble bathroom on the other. First-class all the way, for all it mattered to Caleb. His father’s money and all of this extravagant shit designed to keep his young son placated while he blew him off, had done nothing but made Caleb more resentful. He’d needed a father, not all this material crap. His friends liked it though and his fists had earned him all the status he needed within that group, he didn’t hate the admiration the money garnered. It was the only good thing to come out of having Edison Luxon for his father.

  The rooms hadn’t changed much that he noticed, though he wasn’t paying close attention. From what he could see from the light streaming down the hallway out of the big room, his bedroom was kept clean and tidy by the ever-efficient housekeeping staff.

  He hadn’t been back since the spring break of his senior year in college, but all of his things, save the dirty clothes he’d left strewn around, seemed in place, just as he remembered. Caleb’s eyes roamed over the bed, as the memories flooded his mind. He had mixed feelings about that visit. His relationship with Wren was changed forever. It had been a dream, and a nightmare at the same time.

  He’d been such a fucking coward. Maybe if he’d been more of a man, things would be different now. Because of that one night, their relationship had changed forever. He’d been so blind with the jealousy that had eaten him alive and clouded his judgment. He was pissed at her, at himself, and Dex. His best friend moving on Wren had made him snap. He’d wanted her for as long as he could remember and seeing Dex go for her… well, Caleb didn’t handle it well.

  Afterward, it was too hard to lie to Wren’s face, and just easier to let her think he was drunk and didn’t remember any of it, though every precious second was burned on his soul like a brand. Denial of the whole thing was the easiest way to keep it from happening again. Only doing so hurt her badly, and his idiotic thinking that they could go back to the way they were before it happened, was ludicrous. It had been the best, and worst, night of his entire life.

  Only physical distance and the span of years had given Caleb any type of perspective… but that flew out the window each and every time he’d seen Wren since. He was terrified of the rush of excitement he felt whenever fate would throw them back together; so damn anxious to see her, his eyes drinking in every line of her face and body, memorizing the most minute changes, yet knowing the fight he’d have to fight to keep his hands off of her would kill him. It was like some sort of sick addiction; he couldn’t be in the same room with her without pain, but when she was close, he couldn’t stay away from her, either.

  As she grew up she became more beautiful and sexy, and every time he saw her it was harder, putting Caleb at critical risk of all of his carefully constructed control being annihilated, so when it finally happened; Wren paid the price for his weakness. It took everything he had to push her away because each time he got closer and closer to losing it. Somehow, he managed because he couldn’t figure out any other way not to touch her, though seeing the hurt look on her face each time, put him in hell.

  He’d crushed her. He knew it, but justified it by the age difference and because keeping Wren at arm’s length was critical for his control.

  The last time he’d been in this bed, he’d cracked, and the next day he’d made the worst mistake of his life. It had destroyed her. The only time he’d felt worse than the night they’d slept together, was that time she’d flown out to San Francisco last year to introduce him to Sam. Hatred welled up inside his heart. Who in the fuck was this guy, anyway? Oh right, some fancy French ballet prick that wanted to marry her.

  Caleb knew he didn’t have any fucking excuse for acting the way he had; on either one of those pivotal moments. He knew he was just being a selfish prick; protecting his own sorry ass and his own selfish pride, instead of doing what was best for Wren. He’d promised to take care of her forever, and he’d failed to protect her from himself. Twice.

  Despite the cooling off between them, Caleb still kept up with Wren’s career, and in general, watched over her as well as he could without her knowing. He’d kept his distance, but last March he went to New York to see her perform. He’d wanted to see her on her birthday and hopefully repair some of the damage he had done to their relationship. Caleb had been stunned by how amazing she was, completely mesmerized as he watched her dance, anxious to talk to her and tell her how proud he was of her. He wanted to surprise her, however, Caleb had been the one surprised, seeing her come out of the theater clinging to a man he didn’t recognize. It wasn’t Sam, but it was enough to make him stop dead in his tracks.

  Reconsidering his decision to show up and interrupt her life, he’d waited a few hours and then placed a call to her instead of letting her know he was in the city. He’d already screwed one of her relationships up, and she didn’t deserve it again. The memory still stung.

  He dropped his bag unceremoniously on the floor, then laid the envelopes on his dresser and flopped down on his back in the middle of the big king-sized bed. Caleb’s hand came up to wipe down over his face from forehead to jaw then he glanced at his watch. It was close to 6 PM and way too early to sleep despite his exhaustion.

  Maybe he should read his father’s letter before Macy, and especially Wren, arrived. He had to figure shit out. Macy didn’t know much about Wren, other than she was the daughter of Caleb’s father’s second wife, and the two of them kept in touch once in awhile. He kept his memories of Wren private. Dex knew some of it, but he was the only one.

  “Ugh.” Caleb groaned at the memories, wishing he’d never had to come back to Denver.

  The gravity of the cu
rrent situation was also weighing on him. He hadn’t thought about the repercussions his past with Wren would have on his relationship with Macy. Macy and he were casual, and he figured that she and Wren would never meet. Leave it to his dad to fuck that up by dying.

  If it were possible, he’d have preferred to keep them eternally separate. Not because of Macy, but because of Wren. Their history was long and involved, and despite Macy, Sam, and the nameless guy he’d seen her with in New York, Caleb was in the dark about her feelings. Maybe she’d gotten over her hero worship, maybe she hated him; maybe she’d never forgive him… or, maybe she had residual feelings, as he did. Too bad she had no clue how he felt. His gut tightened. What a fucked up mess.

  He’d deliberately kept his relationship with Macy on the back burner, and because he told her next to nothing, she wouldn’t understand the complexity of his situation with Wren.

  At least, from Caleb’s point of view they were casually dating, though he realized Macy might not agree.

  “Fuck.” Caleb groaned and pulled out his phone. Maybe he could cut Macy off at the pass, though he knew a call would give her too many opportunities to ask questions that he didn’t want to answer. Instead, his thumbs began typing out a text.

  Hey. I’ve gotta stay a few days to sort things out.

  No need for you to fly in.

  Even in his mind, the words were cold and emotionless. Last week, he was all over this woman; hot as hell for her body, but now her presence would bring about a whole shit storm of implications. He didn’t have the energy to answer an inquisition about his childhood, or Wren. And maybe, he didn’t want Wren asking questions about Macy, either.