Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
I bite the inside of my cheek, feeling touched by his vulnerability. “How have all the rest of your romantic relationships gone for you, since that one in your twenties? Have you cheated on all your girlfriends, ever since, or have you grown and matured?”
“I’ve only ever had the one girlfriend.”
My lips part in surprise. “You haven’t had a single girlfriend in over a decade?”
“I mean, I’ve dated, sure, but I’ve never promised anyone exclusivity again. My word is worth shit, so why bother?”
Does that mean he’s only ever loved that one time, too? That’d be a shocking thing for a man of thirty-five. Add to that, the fact that he’s been traveling the world with his band all that time, probably doing what he did with Claudia on a running loop, and I suddenly feel like I’ve got a much better understanding of this man. The rockstar who didn’t bother to ask for Claudia’s phone number or to meet with his child before now.
Caleb looks out his side of the truck. “I’ve always known I’m no good at giving love,” he says softly. “And that I’m not a good bet for anyone giving it to me. So, why bother and waste everyone’s time, you know?”
Oh, my heart.
I touch his tattooed arm, making him look at me. “My mother is a school counselor, and she always says, ‘If you keep telling yourself something, then it becomes the truth. And then, it stays the truth, until you start telling yourself something different.’” He seems receptive, so I add, “Since your brain is always going to tell yourself stuff, because that’s how brains work, then why not choose to tell yourself something good? Something productive? ‘I’ve turned over a new leaf. I’m committed to becoming a better man, a great father. A great friend, bandmate, and brother.’ Maybe even a great boyfriend or husband one day. Why not? Everyone deserves love, Caleb.” I grin sympathetically. “Even someone as horrible as you.”
Caleb can’t keep himself from returning my smile, though he’s clearly trying not to do it.
“Manifestation,” he says softly. “My sister believes in that shit, too.”
“So did Claudia. And look what she accomplished. With the help of your money, she manifested a whole new life for herself and Raine. Plus, she got her mother away from her abusive father.”
He lights up. “Seriously?”
“And before that, Claudia finagled her way backstage at her favorite band’s show and wound up having sex with her biggest celebrity crush. So, seriously, don’t knock manifestation till you’ve tried it.” Thick silence fills the cab of the truck, and it occurs to me I totally ruined the vibe by mentioning Caleb having sex with Claudia. But if Caleb truly is planning to raise Raine for the rest of his life, then, sorry, he needs to understand how amazing and wonderful Raine’s mommy really was. “I don’t know how much you remember about Claudia,” I begin. “But she was—"
“Nothing much,” Caleb interrupts. “I was shitfaced when I hooked up with her. Honestly, it’s all a blur.” He pauses, apparently lost in thought. “I remember smoking a blunt with a pretty blonde in Seattle and talking about Prairie Springs, though. When my lawyer showed me Claudia’s photo, I remembered that part. But that’s about it.”
I should feel offended on Claudia’s behalf. Or maybe vicarious disappointment for her. And yet, the overwhelming emotion I’m feeling is relief that Caleb doesn’t stroke that big dick of his while fantasizing about Claudia, the pretty blonde he banged in Seattle. Claudia, the girl all the boys wanted when we were growing up together in Prairie Springs. Surely, Caleb groans out a different name, every time he strokes that big, thick dick of his; but I can’t deny, as I’m sitting here next to him, it’s a massive relief to find out he groaned out my name before ever groaning out Claudia’s.
“Listen, about Claudia,” Caleb says. “I know she was your best friend, and you feel loyalty to her; but you have to understand, to me, she was—”
As he’s talking, my eyes happen to lock onto a figure exiting the music store across the street; and the moment my eyes relay the man’s identity to my brain, I gasp loudly, interrupting Caleb, mid-sentence. Throwing my palm over my mouth, I slump down in my seat to avoid being seen.
“What?” Caleb blurts. “What’s wrong?” He turns his head to follow the trajectory of my gaze, to where my ex-boyfriend, Trent, has now stopped a few feet away from the music store entrance to tap out something on his phone. Caleb motions to Trent. “That guy there?”
I nod and whimper. “That’s Trent. My ex-boyfriend.”
Caleb practically snarls. “The one who punched you?”
“Slapped me, yes. Very hard.” I slump down even more and a little squeak escapes my throat. What are the odds in a city of a hundred thousand? Although Trent loves music and plays guitar, so I guess—