5. Caleb

FIVE

Caleb

Willow watched me, her gaze dropping to my hand once before she took a step back, rejecting my offer. Her friend was back, chattering away like an annoying little yappy dog, but Willow listened and nodded in all the right places.

When those green eyes met mine, I realized the other girl had stopped talking.

“You ready?” I asked her again.

“What’s your name?”

Turning my head, I looked at her friend. “Caleb.”

“Caleb,” Willow repeated quietly. “I see that.” She saw my curious look, and the familiar blush spread over her cheeks. “It suits you.” She wouldn’t meet my eyes, and I turned my attention back to her friend, who was talking at me again.

“I don’t have a phone.”

I knew that would have silenced them both, and I relished in the merciful quiet at my little white lie.

“You don’t have a cell?”

Had I announced something truly shocking, I might have understood the look of horror on the girl’s face. But surely not owning a mobile tracking device wasn’t that appalling? “Never needed one.”

“Who doesn’t need one?” she asked incredulously. “Are you normal?”

I almost laughed. “Define normal.”

Willow reached out and pushed me slightly. “If we’re going, we should go.” I saw her pointed look at her friend. “I’ll phone you when I’m home.”

The safe was unspoken, but we all heard it.

Willow walked slightly ahead of me as she set off in the wrong direction, and with a wry grin, I followed her, knowing her game too well. We walked in silence, but her glances soon turned into stares, which morphed into annoyed frowns.

“Do you often let men you don’t know walk you home?”

“No.” The frown deepened.

“What makes today different?”

“You know why.”

“If I knew, do you think I would’ve asked?” She was full on scowling now, but the brisk pace she set off with had turned into a slow walk.

“I don’t know much about ME.”

“Changing the subject?”

“Or making conversation?” I countered. When I was met with silence, I thought about what I knew of illness. “What causes ME?”

“There are many factors that are attributable to the cause of it,” she told me with a sigh. “But honestly, I don’t think anyone knows.” She held up her hand. “I’ll save you the trouble. I caught mono when I was younger, not long after turning sixteen. ME is an illness that is believed to involve a combination of things, from genetics, environmental influences, and biological factors.” Willow turned her attention to the sidewalk. “I’m an orphan. I don’t know if either of my parents had it, never met them to ask.” Her hand circled in front of us. “I’ve moved around a lot, foster families and stuff, so when I was able, I moved out here. Clean air, freshness, better than a city.”

“Can’t argue with that,” I agreed as I took in the mountains that surrounded the town. “And the biological? From when you had mono?”

Willow nodded. “Yeah, it can weaken the immune system. I don’t know if it was the reason I got ME, but I also don’t know it wasn’t .”

“Cure?”

“No. Manageability.” Her hands slipped into her jeans pockets.

“And how does that work for you?”

Willow stopped walking and glared at me. “Do you actually care, or are we going to talk about how you were in my house yesterday and have been watching me?”

I feigned surprise and I knew she saw right through me. “I was in your house?”

Throwing her arms in the air, she let out a small scream, spun on her heel, and started walking briskly back the way we came.

Jogging slightly to catch up with her, I took a light hold of her arm, pulling her to a stop and turning her towards me. “Are you okay?”

Her anger shone out as she scowled at me. “No. Why are you lying? ”

“I don’t remember you asking me anything.”

I watched her eyes flare wide with temper before she pinned me with a glower. “You are full of shit, Caleb. Caleb what?” When she saw my blank face, she let out an exasperated sigh. “What’s your last name, Caleb ?”

“You think my name isn’t Caleb?”

Willow’s glare narrowed so fast I wasn’t sure her eyes were still open.

“You awake?”

She kicked me in the shin. I started to laugh as she had a meltdown in front of me. “What is your last name?” The way she ground out the question, I could practically hear a period punctuating each word.

“Foster.”

“Caleb Foster?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Willow resumed walking. “Don’t call me ma’am.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I heard her huff of displeasure and followed behind her, noting when the steam left her sails once more. “So, ME. Chronic…tiredness?”

Willow sniffed. “Chronic fatigue syndrome. It’s an illness, extreme exhaustion. It doesn’t get better with a simple nap. The fatigue is rarely gone, to be honest, and no matter how much rest I get, I’m always fighting fatigue.”

“I didn’t know that,” I admitted.

Willow shrugged and I could tell she was uncomfortable. “Physical and-or mental exertion makes me worse.”

Nodding, I watched as she drooped in front of me. Scooping her up in my arms, I ignored her protests as I carried her along the sidewalk. “Drawing helps relax you? ”

“I never said I draw.”

“You had charcoal on your hands earlier.”

Willow looked at her hands, studying the dark smudge under the nail. “Did I?”

“You did.”

I didn’t meet her searching stare and carried on walking. “Can it be cured? Your illness?”

“No. Managed.”

“You said that earlier, how do you manage it?”

“I pace myself, I keep a well-balanced regime, not too much of one thing. I eat well and healthily. I try to stick to a sleeping pattern. Basically, I have a routine.” She plucked at my sleeve and snorted. “And I do everything I can to avoid stress.”

Glancing down at her, I grinned. “How’s that working out for you?”

“I’m failing.”

Yeah, me too . “Medicines?”

“I don’t take anything.” Willow returned to studying her thumb. “I’ve been low,” she admitted softly. “But I haven’t depended on medication for my low moods, not saying that was the right thing, maybe I should be taking something more regularly, but for me, I don’t. I sometimes take Tylenol for the headaches, but if I stick to my routine and patterns, I get by.”

She got by . It didn’t sound like living to me, and I must have shown what I was thinking, as I heard her sharp intake of breath.

“I don’t need your pity.” Her voice was quiet but hard.

“I don’t give out pity,” I corrected her. Setting her down on her feet, I steadied her as she regained her balance. “I’m also not a mind reader and don’t know where you live. ”

Willow tilted her head back to look up at me. “You must be shit hot at poker.”

A sliver of amusement slipped out. “Why is that?”

“You lie without blinking,” she told me as she placed her hand over my heart. “Do it again.”

“You’re very free with touching.”

“Says the man who just swept me off my feet. Literally swept me off my feet.”

“You were failing.”

“I’ve failed before.”

Watching her, I took in her features, a hardness in her firm stare. Her determination was so strong an illness like hers must be frustrating for her. For anyone.

“I don’t.” When she blinked, I clarified. “Fail. I don’t fail.”

“Never admitting it doesn’t mean you’re winning.”

“Never losing means you’re winning.”

“Does it?”

It was my turn to look away. “Do you want to tell me where you live?”

“No.” Looking back down at her, I raised an eyebrow, but she remained steadfast in front of me. “Why tell you when you already know, Caleb?”

I could deny it, like I had been, but she was determined and so sure. What was the point?

“Why don’t you tell me what you already know?” I countered and saw her falter. Her hand dropped from my chest. “What? Suddenly you have no words?”

“You looked at them.”

“You know I did.”

Willow nodded. Closing her eyes, she blew out a breath. Pushing her hair behind her ear, she rocked back on her heels. “I don’t know how,” she admitted as she studied her sneakers.

“How long?” I swallowed hard, dreading the answer. “How long have you been drawing me?”

“A while.”

“A while? A week? A month? A year?” I floundered as she remained mute. “A lifetime?”

Willow chewed her lip, finally meeting my eyes once more. “A month, maybe more.”

“How much more?”

“I don’t know. I thought you were a dream.” She looked around, and it took me a moment to realize she was looking for something to rest against. “I never saw your face until recently; I didn’t know it was you.”

Stooping, I lifted her back into my arms and resumed walking, in the right direction this time. “You need to sleep.”

“I need a lot of things,” Willow acknowledged quietly, her head resting against my shoulder. “I can tell you one thing,” she carried on. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Drew someone you’ve never met?”

“Well, okay, two things.” Willow’s eyes were closed. “I’ve never done that , and I’ve never been carried home by a stranger.”

“Am I a stranger?”

I hadn’t realized I’d spoken out loud, but I felt her stiffen slightly in my arms. “I don’t know.”

Her eyes were open once more, and she was looking up at me as if I were the puzzle that needed to be solved. I didn’t have the answer either, and for the rest of the walk to her house, neither of us spoke.

I was lying on her couch when she came out of the bedroom. Willow had been so out of it by the time we reached her house, I’d simply put her in her bed and left her there. I didn’t know anything about her illness, but holding her phone to her face and peeling her eyelids open while she mumbled about strangers in her dreams had allowed me to gain access to her phone.

I’d used the phone to reply to her friend’s text message, who I now knew was named Lily, to let her know I was home and safe, and in bed. I deleted the reply Lily sent that told me to give her all the “gory details” later.

I’d then used the internet access to find out about ME. I’d quickly learned it was much more than feeling tired, and another common misconception was that it was just in the sufferer’s head. No amount of exercise could cure it, and it had absolutely nothing to do with being lazy.

Some of the articles had surprised me. After seeing how quickly Willow had deteriorated beyond “simple” tiredness, it wasn’t clear to me why people may think it was a fake illness.

I heard her before I saw her approach. Slow but steady as she walked into the room.

“You stayed?”

“I did.”

“You’re on my couch.”

“The floor wasn’t comfortable.”

Willow looked me over. My boots were on the floor, and my jacket was on the counter in the kitchen. “You seem comfortable. ”

“I’m not on the floor.”

“Why are you here?” Willow looked down at her clothes. “Did you undress me?”

I gave her a flat stare. “I took your sneakers and scarf off. You’re hardly naked.”

“I feel naked.”

“Can’t help with that.” Turning back to the TV, I waited for her to speak again, knowing I was pissing her off.

“You can’t stay here.”

I was on my feet so quickly that she stepped back in alarm. “I’m not staying; I was waiting to make sure you were okay.” Crossing to the kitchen, I picked up my jacket. “Job done.”

“You don’t have to leave.”

Straightening from picking up my boots, I watched her as she fidgeted, uncomfortable in her own home. “Giving me mixed signals here. I can’t stay, but I don’t need to leave.”

“I have questions.”

“You and me both.”

Willow gestured to the kitchen. “Do you want a cup of tea?”

It was a peace offering. I think. Warily we watched each other before I dropped my boots. “Yeah.” I followed her to the kitchen, noting how she still looked exhausted. “You need help?”

Willow shook her head without making eye contact. “I feel better.”

“You should never play poker,” I told her easily. “You’ll lose.”

Glancing over her shoulder, I saw the first hint of a smile. “Maybe you can teach me to lie so fluently.”

I held her stare until I saw the smile fade. “Who says I’m fluent?”

Willow turned her attention to putting the kettle on the stove, getting two cups, and rummaging in her cupboard for a box of tea bags. She put the bags back and, reaching up, took out a teapot and a tin of tea leaves. “It’s a little treat,” she explained as she spooned three carefully measured servings into the pot. “Darjeeling.”

“Nice.”

Squinting at me, she looked unsure. “Are you teasing?”

“Never.”

At that, she laughed. “Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me.”

When the kettle began to whistle, she took it off the heat, waiting a few moments until the boiling water cooled down, and then poured the water into the teapot. Bringing the pot over, she set it between us, returning with two cups and a tea strainer.

The silence grew awkward as she waited to pour the tea, and when we both had a steaming cup of black tea in front of us, she raised her head to look at me.

“Who are you?”

“You know my name.”

“I do.” Willow nodded. “If that is your name.”

“It is.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Saturday.”

She looked down at her hands in…disappointment? “Really?”

“I have no reason to lie about that.”

“You have reason to lie about other things? ”

I hesitated. “Some things.”

“What?”

“If I told you, I might be lying.”

Willow rolled her eyes, raising her cup to take a sip of tea. “You’re hardly James Bond.” Seeing my confusion, her eyes widened. “Tell me you know who James Bond is?” When I shrugged, she gulped tea, forgetting it was hot, and I almost wore the finely brewed Darjeeling.

Placing my cup aside, I leaned forward onto the breakfast bar. “My turn.” Willow mimicked me, putting her cup to the side. “How have you been drawing me?”

“Um, charcoals, sometimes paint, um…pen?—”

“ Not what you’ve drawn me with , I mean how ? How have you seen me?”

Willow was already shaking her head. “I don’t know. I thought you were a dream.”

Jabbing my thumb at my chest, I glared at her. “Do I look like a fucking dream?”

She stifled her laughter, but I could see the amusement in her eyes. “More like my nightmare.”

“ Exactly .”

The humor vanished and her scent changed to wariness. “Who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter who I am, Willow. It matters what you are.” She shook her head but said nothing. “Am I the only thing you’ve drawn you can’t explain?”

Her look of confusion answered my question. “Aren’t you enough?”

I nodded but internally my nerves calmed a little. The last thing I needed was her drawing my wolf. Any wolf. “Doesn’t it worry you that you’re drawing men you’ve never met?”

She turned her head away. She needn’t have bothered; I could almost taste her fear. “Are you going to hurt me?”

“No.”

Willow gave me a look that quite clearly told me she didn’t trust me. Which was fine, because I didn’t trust her either.

“Then why should I be worried?” It was an attempt at bravado, but it fell flat. I could hear her heart racing, I could see the bead of sweat on her brow, and her lips were so dry that her tongue no longer provided any relief, no matter how many times she licked them.

“Because as you pointed out…I lie.”