6. Willow

SIX

Willow

I lie.

Two words that had been rattling around my brain the rest of the week. He told me himself. Caleb hadn’t stayed long after he dropped that bombshell.

If the idea had been for me not to trust him…he’d already won.

My ME was causing me great fatigue this week and, loading my brush with color only to tap it off again, masked the real reason for my snort of derision. I was glad I was alone today, because Lily had been watching me like a hawk. Hovering too close in case I needed support.

I didn’t need it.

Well. I didn’t need it a lot . I was grateful for her, in so many ways, but she needed to stop hovering. I was picking up on her anxiety, and it was making me worse.

I hadn’t even told her about Caleb or our conversation. She would have been uncontainable if she knew he’d been in my house. All she knew was that he walked me home as she tasked him to do. As far as she was concerned, he’d lived up to her expectations, making him a decent guy. She was pissed off he hadn’t been seen since.

I hadn’t seen him either, but I was under no illusion that he wasn’t seeing me.

I’d searched the woods behind my house for signs of his campsite. Not-so-subtle inquiries had revealed he wasn’t staying in town. People had seen him during the day, but no one had seen him once it got dark. The general consensus was that he was a hiker, just passing through. The trails up the peak were challenging. It was perfectly natural that he couldn’t do each one per day. He was most likely camping as he hiked.

Only, I had a feeling that he wasn’t.

Caleb Foster had more questions than I had answers, and I knew he wasn’t happy about it. He had been accommodating in that he saw me home. He had been respectful in that he had stayed with me until I was feeling better.

He had not been courteous. He had not been kind. He was not a gentleman.

“But is he bad?” I asked the painting in front of me. I was sick of seeing Caleb, sick of painting or drawing Caleb, so I was forcing myself to paint something different this afternoon. A meadow of wildflowers, kissed by the first rays of the morning sunshine, was supposed to bring me peace and relaxation.

Instead, as I added color to my artwork, I resented the bright cheerful painting. Dropping my brush to my palette, I turned my attention to the window to look outside at the quiet street.

Today was a store day for me. Meaning that instead of painting with students, I painted alone. My store was never really busy. Rephrase, my store was never busy. I made a few sales a month from online customers, but it was never going to enable me to retire early.

It was a depressing thought, but also, if I retired early, what would I do all day? Paint? Draw? I did that now.

Pressing my lips together in annoyance at my lackluster nature, I glared at the opposite side of the street. There was nothing to see there—just an empty bench that was hardly ever used. But still, it bore the brunt of my frustrated glare as I thought about Caleb. “Where are you?”

The bench remained empty and silent. Weariness weighed heavily on my shoulders as I picked up my paintbrush. I needed to focus on relaxation.

A positive mindset was a good thing for people with my illness. At least that’s the lie I told myself.

Forcing myself to breathe slowly, I resumed my painting, tiny yellow dots placed randomly to depict buttercups or dandelions. Forcing myself to focus on anything other than the man on my mind worked for a short time.

When I raised my head again, I looked outside toward the bench, and Caleb was sitting there, staring back at me.

I wasn’t even surprised. It was as if I manifested him into being.

He knew I saw him, and with casual indifference, he stood, and within a few strides he was opening the door and walking into the store.

“Where have you been?”

A smirk pulled at his lips. “Keeping tabs on me?”

Wiping my brush on a folded paper napkin, I scoffed loudly. “An impossible task since you seem to disappear as easily as smoke.”

He was beside me now, his earthy scent tingling my nostrils. He smelled of freshness and pine.

“Looking for me that hard, were you?”

I could deny it, but what was the point? “We have more to talk about.”

Caleb sniffed, looking to the door. “Do we? You don’t have the answers I need.”

“I could?—”

His dark look made me shut my mouth. “Woman, you don’t even understand the questions.”

“Then help me understand.”

He raised his hand to push his hair back, and I scolded myself for noticing how large his hands were. The man was just…big. My mind took that step. My eyes flicked downwards just below his belt buckle, and I looked away before he noticed that I had just checked him out.

Caleb wasn’t looking at me. He was paying particular attention to a framed sketch I’d done last winter. It was a simple piece, the top of a mountain, scarce of vegetation in winter, and a lone deer tearing the bark from the trunk of an old, withered tree.

“You see many deer around these parts?”

“There are enough. They come down off the mountain if the winter is harsh.”

Our eyes met briefly when he shot me a skeptical look. “You look tired.”

“The day must end with a y .” The corner of his mouth turned up, but he said nothing else. “Why are you here?” I asked him as I watched him study all the art on the wall.

“Your customer service skills are lacking,” he admonished, reaching forward to straighten a framed landscape, this time in oils.

“I have excellent customer service when I have a customer in front of me.”

“We can agree to disagree.” He’d moved to the farthest painting on the far wall. He studied it for a long time before turning his head and fixing me with his intense stare. “You see many wolves?”

“They’re there.”

“Where?” His sharp stare unnerved me.

“On the mountains.” I shrugged. “I can hear them howling sometimes.” I’d known him for such a short time, and using the term known him was an exaggeration, but the alternative was to refer to him as the man who gate-crashed my life. Watching him watch me, seeing that he doubted me—again—I got off the chair and went to stand beside him.

“Never heard wolves down here.”

“Then you’re not listening with your ears,” I snapped at him. “Why do you think the deer are rarely seen?”

Caleb turned to face me, his expression unreadable. “Why?”

“The wolves hunt them.” His snort of laughter only irritated me more. “Why are you here? Again?”

“Passing by.”

“Another lie.”

Caleb fixed me with that stare of his. “That’s bothered you, hasn’t it?”

I wanted to lie down. He exhausted me, and I already felt emotionally drained from this man. “ You bother me.”

Caleb returned to his study of the wolf scene. A simple painting of woods and a clearing with a black wolf emerging from the shadows. “As I said, no customer service skills.”

“As I said, you’re not a customer.”

“How much is the picture?”

He was looking at me expectantly, and I didn’t have the words to tell him he was making my head hurt. The man fluctuated between hot and cold more times than I could count.

“Willow? The price?”

God, he was an impatient prick. “Two fifty.”

It wasn’t. It was a simple painting that I had done one morning. To anyone else, I’d feel guilty for asking for a hundred. Him, well, he could pay it or leave it.

“I’ll take it.”

All right…it seemed like he was taking it. Shit. I wasn’t expecting that. “Um…you sure?”

Those dark eyes were on me again. Inscrutable. Secret. Penetrating.

Caleb walked towards me, his hand pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. “It’s not my place to say it—it’s your business—but really, you need sales help, because you’re bad at it.” He put three bills on the counter. “When can I get it?”

“Sales help?” My eyes were glued to the bills. He just dropped two fifty in front of me like it was nothing. I’d spent the week thinking he was homeless; now he was Mr. Let’s-Drop-Cash-Like-It’s-Hot?

“Good God, you’re worse than I thought.” Caleb’s scornful muttering brought me out of my fog. “No wonder nothing sells.”

“Hey!” He’d been gazing back at the painting, but he turned to face me when he heard my protest. He said nothing, but I could feel his mockery. “Quit it.” Grouchily, I went over to the painting, and careful of the hooks, I lifted it off the wall. I forgot the frame I’d put it in was heavy, and given my current weariness, I almost dropped it. Caleb was there to catch it. “Um…thanks.”

“Do I still need to pay for it if you break it?”

“It’s yours now,” I told him, following behind him as he took it to the counter. “It breaks in my store, tough.”

“Wow. Stellar sales skills, yet again.”

“Maybe I just don’t like you, Caleb.”

“Maybe you’re full of shit, Willow.” He smirked. “I think you like me just fine.”

The painting lay between us as I glared at him, and then, remembering I was a professional, I opened the cupboard under the counter and pulled out the brown paper wrapping. “I’ll just get this wrapped.”

He said nothing as he watched me first wrap the framed painting in bubble wrap, tape it half to death, and then wrap it carefully in brown paper. I was rummaging in the cupboard for a postage label when he spoke, breaking the silence. I was so absorbed that I almost forgot he was there, and I jumped, accidentally banging my head on the cupboard’s roof.

“Whatever else you need to do to that, it’s fine. I can take it from here.” Straightening, I rubbed the top of my head, and Caleb didn’t hide his amusement. “Thought I heard an echo.”

“Shut up.” Slapping the label down, I snapped at him. “ Postage label, so you can ship it home.” Pointing out the window, I gave him directions. “Postal place two blocks over. You can’t miss it. It’s right beside the printer shop.”

Picking up my painting—no, his painting—he handed me back the label. “I don’t need this.”

It hung between us like a tentative peace treaty. One that neither party fully trusted.

“You have your own shipping labels?” I didn’t hide the doubt in my voice.

“Does it matter?” He placed it back on the counter. “You should rest, you look tired.” He said it so matter-of-factly it couldn’t even be described as concern. “You’ve made a sale, close up shop. Go home.”

He was halfway to the door when I spoke again. “That’s what this was? It’s a pity sale?”

He didn’t even look back. “It’s a sale , Willow. That’s all that matters.” Opening the door, he turned to glance at me before he left. “Hire a salesperson. You need one.”

The door was barely closed behind him when I heard a familiar laugh, and seconds later, Lily came bounding in. “Oh my gosh! Did Loverboy buy something?”

“Not loverboy,” I corrected her. I endured the happy hug anyway because hugs were nice, and Lily’s were the best. “Yes, he bought a painting.”

“He must really be lusting after you,” she declared loudly.

“Lily! Lower your voice!”

“There’s no one here!” Her laughter was infectious, and when I smiled, she hugged me again and hurried over to the space on the wall. “Oooh, he bought the creepy wolf one.” Her smile grew. “Why aren’t you happier? You hated that painting. ”

Tucking the bills into a money wallet and ignoring Lily’s eye roll at my old-fashionedness, I shrugged. “I didn’t hate it. The wolf just…it just creeped me out.”

Lily climbed up onto one of the art stools. “You’re adorable.” Stretching her arms over her head, she looked at me fondly. “You drew the wolf and then you were scared of the wolf. It’s too cute.”

“I wasn’t scared, it was creepy. Foreboding.”

“It was cute. And fluffy.”

“It’s not a puppy.” Shaking my head, I sat down too. My legs felt too weary to keep me up. Lily noticed and her playfulness vanished as concern washed over her.

“Hey, you okay? Do you need to go home?”

Yes . “No, I’ll be okay. Just going to take it easy.”

I held in my sigh as she jumped off the stool, coming over and collecting my purse. “You’re closing. I’ll take you home. I have the car today, and you can sleep.”

“I don’t need to sleep.” I really needed to sleep. “I’ll be okay.” Chances are I wouldn’t be.

With her hands on her hips, Lily glared at me. “Not only are you lying to yourself, you’re lying to me.” Wide-eyed, she looked at me like I’d just stabbed her. “Why would you lie to me? Why? Why, Willow?”

“You missed your calling in the theater.” My dry tone earned me a grin, and I was too tired to protest anymore. “Fine, have it your way. You can take me home.”

She stuck her tongue out at me triumphantly. Could a tongue be triumphant? Groaning, I searched for my keys. I definitely needed home; I was jabbering about triumphant tongues.

A slim arm wrapped around my waist. “Hey, girl, you look close to passing out. Come on.” Gently, she held me up, propping me against the doorway as she locked up. “You’re swaying.”

I think I nodded. I could feel how unsteady I was. It was all Caleb’s fault. Each time I was with him, he drained me even more.

“You want Caleb?”

I jolted in surprise. What? No! “Nuh-uh…no.”

“Phew, I would have for sure known there was a story there that you were keeping from me.”

I was halfway to comatose, and she was worried she’d missed out on gossip. If my eyes would open and my mouth weren’t so dry, I would tell her she was an idiot if she thought there was ever going to be a story to tell that involved me and Caleb.

With the shop locked up and a sign up saying “back tomorrow,” we got into Lily’s car. I loved my best friend. She was kind, funny, charming, all the things. Beautiful. Her skin was flawless, a dermatologist’s wet dream, I was sure. Yet, for all her brilliance, she was, quite possibly, the worst driver on the planet.

“Now remember to buckle up,” she told me with false cheerfulness. When my arms didn’t cooperate, Lily leaned over and strapped me in. “When you’re feeling better, I am going to scold you so bad for neglecting yourself like this.”

I might have nodded in agreement, or I might have just let my head drop, as it was getting heavier to hold up.

I must have been asleep when we got to my house, because being practically dragged from a car was enough to wake anyone .

“Lily, I got it.” Struggling to my feet, I swayed until I felt her steady me. I tried to open my eyes to focus, but it was a battle I wasn’t winning. “The neighbors are gonna think I’m stoned or something.”

“Your neighbors are probably stoned, and also, fuck them.”

“Lil! Shh, they’ll hear you!”

“Who cares?” The front door took a long time to get to, or so it seemed until I heard a cry of protest as I was placed against the wall. “Why’s your spare key been moved?”

“Caleb.”

“You gave him your spare key?”

I just knew her eyes would be like saucers.

“No, he found it.”

“He found it? Why? Was he in your house? Did you tell him where it was? Why was he in your house?”

I raised my hand to stop her barrage of questions. “Girl, shhh. Enough with the questions, I need sleep.”

She muttered the whole time, but soon I was in bed, nestled under my blankets, and the door closed as Lily left me alone. I had no doubt I would be interrogated when I woke up, but for now, I could sleep.

I just needed to sleep.