Page 116 of Disarm
That comment lands weird, almost like a compliment dressed in caution tape but it’s something.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
He clears his throat. “We’ll talk more. Preferably in person, when I can see your face instead of… projecting whatever expression I imagine you have right now.”
“You don’t want to imagine it,” I say, half-laughing. “I look like I got hit by a bus.”
“Twice,” he says, and there’s a faint smile in his voice. “Celeste said you liked that line.”
“She’s tattling again,” I mumble.
“As is her right,” he says. “She loves you.”
We both breathe for a few seconds.
“I love you, Caleb,” he says suddenly, like he remembered and had to get it in before the line cut.
My chest caves.
“I love you too,” I whisper.
We hang up before either of us has to listen to the other fall apart.
I sit there on the edge of my bed, phone still in my hand, staring at nothing while my heartbeat ricochets inside my ribs.
The screen lights up again.
Miguel
Home.
You alive?
A wet laugh sputters out of me. I wipe under my eyes with the heel of my hand, sniff hard, and type back.
Caleb
Yeah.
Alive.
Also kind of emotionally stabbed, but in a… semi-productive way?
Miguel
Christ… What did Dad do?
Do I need to come back and throw hands?
A choked sound that might be a laugh or might be a sob escapes my throat.
Caleb
No hands. Just… can I come over?
I’ll explain everything when I get there.
Miguel
