20. MATTHEWS

MATTHEWS

I emailed off the current interviews I had finished to Bobbi to look over, except for the tape that Cael and I had made the week before. It mocked me on the dresser across from the bed, a physical reminder that, no matter how hard I tried, staying away from Cael was going to be much, much harder than anticipated.

He hadn’t done much talking since, avoiding any subject that surrounded our past with distraction. I'd never seen a man so obsessed with eating pussy. It’s a hobby, he whispered the last time I asked.

Cael would wander into my room, announce his boredom, and satiate it all in one go.

No talking, no kissing.

Just Cael silently apologizing for seven years worth of absence.

Had anyone asked me back then, before I lost my virginity to him, if I ever thought that there was a future that existed that looked like this, I would have died from embarrassment. Now? Now, I was taking full advantage of what Cael considered an apology, even if he wasn’t sure what exactly it was for. It felt like flying.

My phone rang at my side. Bobbi’s pretty smile lit up the screen, and I set it up so we could talk. “Hey.” I typed more notes into my document.

“Where’s Cael’s tape?” She asked without pleasantries.

“It’s—” I swallowed, “tainted.”

“What does that mean? Did the recording mess up?” Bobbi said, not really paying attention to the conversation as she worked at her computer on the other end of the FaceTime.

“No.” I leaned back in my chair and waited for her to look at me.

Her brown eyes widened in shock when she took in the blush on my cheeks and the smirk on my face. She set down her hands and leaned closer to the camera.

“Oh my god, you filthy slut,” she whispered.

Both of us broke out into laughter and I told her everything that happened in a hushed voice so that it didn’t float out of her cubicle. “So I have to schedule him for a new interview.”

“I’m actually very offended you didn’t send me that tape.” Bobbi crossed her arms and sat back in her chair. “I’m so lonely here.” She pouted.

“I’d never be able to look you in the eye again.” I shook my head, and her eyebrows rose in shock.

“So what now?” She posed the question I was dreading trying to answer. “Does that mean Clem and Cael are officially back on?” She said, dramatically whispering the Clem with her hands cupped around her face.

“No,” I said. “Absolutely not.”

Bobbi scowled and teased me. “Boo, I need the romance portion of this Shakespeare play, Juliet.”

“It’s a distraction.” I shrugged.

“Yeah, I would be distracted with his tongue down my throat too,” Bobbi huffed.

“I haven’t kissed him. I won’t,” I admitted.

“You haven’t…” Bobbi looked confused. “Why the hell not when the boy’s been knuckle deep?”

“Cael doesn’t know what he wants and, frankly, neither do I. I don’t know who he is anymore, and I can’t just blow up the life I’ve worked so hard to create just because he’s really good at eating me out. Kissing him would only remind me of all those feelings. It’s too intimate. I can’t do it.”

“But you can if the spark is there,” Bobbi suggested. “Maybe it’s time to ask yourself what you want because I know it’s not that stuffy white-collar douchebag you call a fiance.”

“Ex,” I corrected. “But now that you mention him. ”

“You haven’t thought about Julien the entire time you’ve been there, have you?” Bobbi’s smile was vicious.

“Is that cruel?” I asked.

“It would be if you’d left him with the possibility of the two of you reconciling, but you made it pretty clear that you weren’t ready to seal your fate in a blood pact.”

Bobbi was anti-commitment and strongly believed that marriage was a ritual, cult process and that signing papers meant signing your soul over to the devil, or the government as most called it.

“It just shows where your head's at, M.” She sighed. “Have you tried, I don’t know… having a conversation with him?”

“Every time I think about it, I just get upset.”

“Over what, the past indiscretions of two teenagers forced apart by their parents?” Bobbi scoffed. “You want to blame him, but you both stopped trying. Now he’s there trying, and what are you doing? Complaining about being eaten out three times a day by a man with the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“Okay, okay, I surrender!” I put my hands up to stop her from berating me.

“Give the baseball edition of Justin Bieber a chance, he might surprise you. I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time. He’s clearly doing something correct.”

“It’s not what he’s doing now that scares me.” I pinned my shoulders back and brushed my fingers through the short brown locks around my face.

“No way.” Bobbi raised her hands in the air and got close to the camera. “I’ve known you since we were nineteen, and from the day I met you until the day you left for Rhode Island, you have wanted one thing.” She put her finger up to emphasize it. “And that one thing is Cael Cody.”

A knock on the door frame of my room scared me off my seat, and I hit the end of our phone call when I saw who was standing there. Cael leaned against the frame, in a cropped gray t-shirt with FUCKBOY scribbled across it in yellow letters that showed off his taught lower stomach and hardened V-lines, with his arms behind his back and a shit-eating grin on his face. He was in a pair of wide-legged jeans and a green ball cap that looked older than the both of us combined. His cheeks were red with blush and his tongue brushed out over his bottom lip. Okay, now I was definitely convinced that handsome idiot didn’t own a proper shirt.

“How long have you been standing there?” I asked him, and he just shook his head and looked away. God dammit Bobbi. “What do you want, Cael?”

“You haven’t eaten today,” he said, his eyes raking over me.

“Yes, I have,” I protested, pointing to the half-drank cup of coffee on the small working desk at the end of the bed.

When I looked back at him, he was holding a paper bag out in front of him. The smell of warm fries wafted from it and filled my nose.

“Are those?”

Dukes.

“ Hilly’s, but the taste is close,” he answered. “It was the only thing that I ate when we moved here. Turns out french fry grease is brutal on the complexion of a teenager—Mama had to bribe me to eat a vegetable after six months.”

The mention of Lorraine had his brows furrowing.

“Take them.” He wiggled the bag at me and forced a smile back on his face. “Before they get cold.”

I grabbed the bag from him and unrolled the top to let the smell out. They were still hot. He had come straight here with them, and he was right. They did taste like Dukes. It almost made me angry that he had found something so similar here.

“Did you bring sneakers?” He looked around my room.

“Why?”

“We’re going down to the stadium.”

When I didn’t move he rolled his eyes and stood up. His tall stature filled out the door frame and he used his arms to lean toward me. “If you’re writing a piece on the Harbor Hornets, I expect you to actually get to know them. No more of this interrogation bullshit.”

I hated how much pure compassion flowed from him. He loved the team even if he pretended it was forced. Somewhere along the way, he had found himself a family.

“Aw, but those have been so much fun, Loverboy. You should see how many interrogations I have.” I cocked an eyebrow at him and popped a fry into my mouth, reveling in the jealousy that flickered across his face and tightened his jaw.

“Watch out for Dean,” he recovered quickly. “He bites.”

“I have a feeling he learned that from you.” I waited for him to get mad but he just smirked at me.

“I have scars to prove the legitimacy of that statement, Plum. Get your sneakers.”

“If I do this, you have to finish your interview,” I said, passing the bag of greasy goodness back to him.

“I never leave a job unfinished.” His blue gaze raked down my body, catching on the hem of my tank top where a sliver of skin was exposed.

“Turn around,” I said, pulling out a clean pair of tights.

“If you think I’m turning around, you’re delusional.” He didn’t hesitate in his response.

“At least shut the door. I don’t need half the nest seeing my ass.”

“But what about the tapes?” He mocked as he kicked the door closed behind him.

For a short moment, I thought he might take advantage of my privacy but, instead, he gave me one more look, popped a fry between his lips, and turned around to face my bed so I could change.

The softness of his behavior caught in my throat, unexpectedly tender and unlike the man he had been up until now. It was such a young Cael movement that, for a second, we were back in my room, and I was still hoping that he’d notice the look of love in my eyes.

Please don't notice the look of love in my eyes , I begged quietly now instead. Bobbi had gotten in my head. Was it so wrong to want to give Cael a chance?

His shoulders tensed as his eyes dropped to my bed. The shirt I had stolen from his room was untucked from beneath my pillow. I waited for him to tease me. To say something about it, but it never came. He just dug in the bag for another fry as he waited.

“You ready?” He asked as he turned around. I sat on my chair and started to pull on my sneakers, tucking my face down to hide the pink color my cheeks had turned with embarrassment.

He walked over, dropped to one knee, and patted my calf softly to encourage me to raise my foot.

“Always on your knees for me,” I cooed quietly. Cael smirked as he tied each shoe, careful to double-knot them before helping me stand.

His sweet, citrusy cologne filled my nose as he wrapped his hand around my back and pulled me close to his body. Goosebumps covered my arms, locked in by his as I worked to control my beating heart, resisting the feral urge to run my thumb over his pouty bottom lip and kiss him until he begged for air. Those endless blue eyes ate away at my resolve to keep him at arm's length and I could feel the barriers crumbling as that boyish, lopsided smile formed to the left of his face.

“You smell pretty,” Cael whispered, pulling away but lingering on my wrist and rolling the bracelet there between his fingers before letting go.

I stood there for a moment longer as he disappeared down the hall toward the front door, unable to catch the breath that he had stolen from my lungs without remorse. I was treading water, trying desperately to keep my head above the surface, grasping onto the memories of that smile like a life preserver.

I had missed Cael Cody more than I could have ever imagined. I’d just barely learned how to swim on my own, and now I was paying the price for underestimating his intoxicating ability to pull me back beneath the surface.

“Move it, slow poke,” he whistled from the front door.

I followed him around the house to a path that led down the back. It was well worn, all the grass eroded away from them using it to get to the stadium. When it broke out from the tree line to the highway, Cael skirted around and put himself on the outside without breaking his train of thought as he rambled on about the muggy weather.

As we entered the stadium, he stopped to talk to a group of people who were painting a new mural on the west side.

“Hey, Tess! It looks amazing.” He looked up at it and nodded. “Arlo’s nose is bigger, though.” He pointed, and the girl covered in paint laughed. “I’ll give you ten dollars to paint a mustache on Dean.” He pointed to the man a little further down, who had just shaken his head.

I felt like I was watching a movie as he interacted with everyone around the stadium. Everyone he saw, he treated like family. He knew something about each of their lives that caught me off guard, and I couldn’t help but lean into him as he led us down to the field. It was weird to see him at ease, there was no tension in his shoulders, no tightness to his jaw. Just that light-as-a-feather nature that he carried around.

Cael stopped, poking his head into what looked like a gym but was empty except for Ella, who was working with a player I didn’t recognize.

“Hey Peach,” he called to her, and she looked up with a smile on her face. “Jensen has a meeting with his counselor. Would you mind substituting for dinner tonight?”

She nodded and went back to work.

“You call her Peach?” I said as he closed the door.

He looked back at me for a moment, confusion on his face. “You jealous?”

“No,” I said, but I looked back over my shoulder through the glass at her, talking softly to the player she was working with, and wondered what I was missing between her and Cael. Or maybe it was just a stupid nickname, and I was reading too much into it.

“Down here.” He opened a door that led to the field where players tossed balls back and forth. “Stadium has a retractable roof so that we can keep in shape during the off-season.”

The Shore family had spared no expense to give the team a top of the line stadium and it showed.

“You practice year-round?” I asked him.

“It’s more slack in the fall; training usually picks up again in the early spring, but the guys like to keep their bodies moving.”

Cael was a natural at the talking part. He pointed out a few of the stadium highlights and made his way to a section in the back concealed by a mesh tunnel and led me to the rear.

Van Mitchell and Dean Tucker could be heard between loud cracks of wood and the sound of whooshing balls. A row of three batting cages lined the back of the stadium, all empty except for the one that housed the two men.

“Boys.” Cael hooked his fingers into the chain fence.

“What’s up, Cody?”

Van poked the end of his bat near the fence while Dean just stared at me like he wanted to say something. Neither of them bothered with shirts, showing rippling muscles that spanned over their arms and chests, soft stomachs, and tan skin. The bodies of baseball players work hard and play harder. I licked my bottom lip as I came to a stop next to Cael.

“Came down to show,” he stopped short of calling me Clementine, “Ms. Matthews, what we really do…”

“You can’t swing, Cael.” Dean was the first to say it. “Ella’s orders. If we let you in, she’ll go full mom on us.”

“Personally, I would love to see it, and it only makes me more tempted.” Cael flashed his Cheshire smile. However, he stopped and leaned over to look at me. “I’m not getting in. Mary is.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I’m extremely opposed to having balls hurled at my face.”

Cael snorted, and I glared at him.

“It’s not as scary as it looks,” Dean offered through a clenched jaw.

Cael lost it laughing that time.

“Am I the only person in the cage right now that hasn’t had balls in my face?” Van looked between all of us and brushed his long, shaggy mullet under his ballcap. “I’ll turn down the speed on it, and as long as Cael promises not to swing the bat, I’ll play lookout and keep Ella busy.”

“Keep this up you might get some balls in your face for good behavior,” Dean teased and unlocked the cage, slipping out with his back turned to me. Something passed between him and Cael, who looked more tense than he had all day.

Van handed me the bat. “Do you think he’s serious?” He asked me. “About the balls…” He scooted out of the way.

“You aren’t my type, Van,” Dean groaned from the end of the hall.

“No funny business, or I’m snitching.” Van stared at us, tapping two fingers to his chest at Cael, who mirrored the motion before turning to me.

“In you go.”