Page 30 of Disarm
“Hey—” I start, but he’s already standing, brushing his hands on his sweats like he can wipe the moment off him.
“I should go,” he says. “It’s getting late. You’ve got work in the morning and I’ve got class…”
“Caleb…”
“I’m fine,” he cuts in, but his voice cracks. “I just… need some air.”
He grabs his backpack and the cooler bag with the meals we made and heads for the door before I can get up.
The door shuts softly behind him. The silence that follows hits hard.
For a long time,I just sit there staring at the half-eaten plates on the coffee table.
The smell of food, the warmth in the room—it all feels wrong now. Too still.
I run a hand over my face and exhale hard.
“Nice going,pendejo,” I mutter to myself.
I didn’t mean to scare him. I just… meant it.
Every fucking word.
But I should’ve known better. Caleb’s still learning what safe even feels like. And I threw him the idea of forever like it wouldn’t break him.
I wash the dishes in silence, towel-dry the counter, and do anything to keep from thinking. The apartment feels bigger when he’s not here. Colder.
By the time I crawl into bed, burying my face in the sheets, inhaling his scent. I close my eyes and pretend he’s still there, his weight against me, his quiet breathing.
Then my phone buzzes.
It’s instinct to grab it.
Nothing from him. Just a random text from work about tomorrow’s job.
So I type instead.
Miguel
I’m sorry if I pushed too hard tonight. I didn’t mean to freak you out.
I just love you, Caleb. That’s all. No expectations. Just that.
Text me when you’re back safe, yeah?
I stare at the screen, thumb hovering over the “send” button on the last message. Then I hit it before I can second-guess myself.
The message stays unread.
I set the phone on the nightstand and lay back, staring at the ceiling. Every part of me aches to go after him, to make it right, but that’s not what he needs. He needs space. Time.
The clock ticks. The world goes still.
And just when I think he won’t answer, my phone lights up.
Caleb
I made it back.
