Page 50 of Before the Bond
I noticed Caleb staring more intently at me now.
“What?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Olivia,” he said. “I don’t think you understand what kind of impact you have on people… You get through to people. You’re sweet, but earnest. You value what’s right over your own self interest. And me…”
Caleb swallowed. I thought I saw the slightest tinge of pink in his cheeks.
“You already know.”
My face went warm. I looked at the grain of the table.
"I understand if you don't like the situation," he said. "There were lies. I won't argue with you about that. But what people felt — what I felt — none of that was arranged."
I tried to assess everything I was feeling. The warmth and the frustration still threaded underneath it.
"I don't know what to believe," I whispered. "You've all been withholding things from me since day one. I get some of it — I'm not naive." I pushed my coffee cup aside. "But I don’t know if I can ever really know where the lies stop.”
Caleb’s expression fell slightly.
"You’re right,” he said.
"Am I safe here?" I said. "In Greyhollow?”
Caleb held my gaze. "There's always a risk around werewolves," he said. "I won't tell you otherwise. You saw it last night.”
I saw, alright.
“The world I live in is dangerous,” Caleb continued. “Knowing about it doesn't make the danger disappear. I… I understand if you want to leave because of it.”
He said the last part without flinching. There was no performance in it. No careful arrangement designed to tip me in one direction — just the plain, flat truth of a man who meant exactly what he said.
After a long moment, I pushed myself back from the table.
"I need some time alone," I said.
He nodded. He didn't follow.
My go-bag was on the floor of the wardrobe.
Half-zipped. Right where I left it.
In every new city, every new assignment, I never unpacked more than I needed. Never stayed long enough to matter. Anything I did, I made sure I could easily take back. Making space for myself, or any form of commitment for that matter, only made leaving messy. Tangled.
For seven years or so, I just passed through.
For seven years, I learned to be at places but never really live in them.
I looked around the room.
Maureen set it up the first day I was here, but there were small changes over time. She always placed the towels on the reading chair, as I never used it. When I remarked I liked the color blue, she changed the curtains and said it might “brighten things up.”
I looked at the end table. Books from the library sat stacked there. I could see small footnotes in some of them with notes Jake left for me.
Read this one when I’m in ULTRA pain.
On my phone, Stella consumed most of my inbox. Sometimes she was complaining about work, and sometimes she was begging to hang out.
I’d been in Greyhollow for more than a month now.
