the closet.
Suddenly, I spied an outfit that just might fit the occasion.
“Shorty, you’re the only one of us who’s currently equipped for a daytime mission,” I said.
My limited mobility during daylight was something I intended to address in the not-too-distant future.
“Please, just talk to him and see if you can coax him to return home,” I said.
“C’mon, Red,” she said. “Let the kid blow off some steam; give him a little space. You smother him sometimes, if you ask me.”
I didn’t ask your opinion.
I calmed myself to avoid an argument, though it was challenging not to bite her head off.
“I understand what you’re saying,” I said diplomatically. “However, after what happened downtown the other evening, I’d rather he not be out on the town unprotected.”
Given the subsequent silence, I thought that our connection had been lost.
“All right, that makes sense, I suppose,” she said with a tone of resignation in her voice.
“So?” I asked, shaking my head in mild frustration.
“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “But what if he doesn’t exactly want to return home? I mean, from what you said, he was pretty pissed at you when he left.”
I hoped that wouldn’t be an issue.
No, he’ll vent and then want to come back home.
“I have a backup plan, but it’s no good until after sunset,” I said.
Please, just come home, Caleb. I’ll make it up to you somehow…
“Don’t worry, Red. I’m on the case,” she replied.
Then she giggled. “This should be good. I haven’t been to a Goth bar in years.”
“Uh-huh,” I said.
Well, at least one of us was amused about the situation.
I just want him safely back home. Maybe if I can hold him and talk to him, we can try to heal the wound that’s been opened between us.
Of course, I realized that in order to heal the wound, I’d need to understand what type of injury I’d be treating.
Bruised ego, or bitter resentment?
Or maybe a little of both?
I thanked Paige for her assistance and retrieved my mug of warmed blood from the microwave. As I perched on a kitchen barstool and took a sip, appreciating the warm liquid flowing down my throat, my emotions finally began to calm a little bit.
I quietly analyzed the events of recent days, including the unfortunate exchange with him earlier that afternoon.
Slowly, the logic of his behavior dawned upon me, like a morning sun peering over the treetops, banishing darkness in its wake.
Oh, my dear, haunted Caleb. I think that I finally understand what’s really at play here…
I felt stupid for not seeing it already.
Chapter 7
Caleb
By the time I’d secured a small table in the back and finished my second beer, I was surprised to admit that the bar was starting to grow on me.
For one, the music was actually pretty good; it reminded me of a harder version of the alternative rock that I liked. For example, I considered that Angelical Tears’ music would fit right in here.
My mind wandered for a bit before returning to my aggravation with Kat.
Sometimes she’s just so damned overbearing.
I stared into my beer, searching for an oracle of some kind.
Unfortunately, I doubt any answers are coming from this glass of beer.
When I looked up again to survey the room, the place was starting to fill up, which kind of surprised me. I wouldn’t have expected this kind of crowd to be prevalent in the Atlanta area.
Maybe New York or San Francisco, but not around here.
I rubbed at my forehead with one hand, trying to dispel the tension that had formed.
I removed my hand just in time to see a familiar blonde-haired woman walk into the bar carrying a pile of folded leather riding gear, along with motorcycle helmet and black boots, which she placed on a small table near the entrance. She took only a moment to take in her surroundings before boldly strutting into the bar.
No way.
Paige wore a little black leather miniskirt, sheer long-sleeved top that revealed a leather bra
Suddenly, I spied an outfit that just might fit the occasion.
“Shorty, you’re the only one of us who’s currently equipped for a daytime mission,” I said.
My limited mobility during daylight was something I intended to address in the not-too-distant future.
“Please, just talk to him and see if you can coax him to return home,” I said.
“C’mon, Red,” she said. “Let the kid blow off some steam; give him a little space. You smother him sometimes, if you ask me.”
I didn’t ask your opinion.
I calmed myself to avoid an argument, though it was challenging not to bite her head off.
“I understand what you’re saying,” I said diplomatically. “However, after what happened downtown the other evening, I’d rather he not be out on the town unprotected.”
Given the subsequent silence, I thought that our connection had been lost.
“All right, that makes sense, I suppose,” she said with a tone of resignation in her voice.
“So?” I asked, shaking my head in mild frustration.
“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “But what if he doesn’t exactly want to return home? I mean, from what you said, he was pretty pissed at you when he left.”
I hoped that wouldn’t be an issue.
No, he’ll vent and then want to come back home.
“I have a backup plan, but it’s no good until after sunset,” I said.
Please, just come home, Caleb. I’ll make it up to you somehow…
“Don’t worry, Red. I’m on the case,” she replied.
Then she giggled. “This should be good. I haven’t been to a Goth bar in years.”
“Uh-huh,” I said.
Well, at least one of us was amused about the situation.
I just want him safely back home. Maybe if I can hold him and talk to him, we can try to heal the wound that’s been opened between us.
Of course, I realized that in order to heal the wound, I’d need to understand what type of injury I’d be treating.
Bruised ego, or bitter resentment?
Or maybe a little of both?
I thanked Paige for her assistance and retrieved my mug of warmed blood from the microwave. As I perched on a kitchen barstool and took a sip, appreciating the warm liquid flowing down my throat, my emotions finally began to calm a little bit.
I quietly analyzed the events of recent days, including the unfortunate exchange with him earlier that afternoon.
Slowly, the logic of his behavior dawned upon me, like a morning sun peering over the treetops, banishing darkness in its wake.
Oh, my dear, haunted Caleb. I think that I finally understand what’s really at play here…
I felt stupid for not seeing it already.
Chapter 7
Caleb
By the time I’d secured a small table in the back and finished my second beer, I was surprised to admit that the bar was starting to grow on me.
For one, the music was actually pretty good; it reminded me of a harder version of the alternative rock that I liked. For example, I considered that Angelical Tears’ music would fit right in here.
My mind wandered for a bit before returning to my aggravation with Kat.
Sometimes she’s just so damned overbearing.
I stared into my beer, searching for an oracle of some kind.
Unfortunately, I doubt any answers are coming from this glass of beer.
When I looked up again to survey the room, the place was starting to fill up, which kind of surprised me. I wouldn’t have expected this kind of crowd to be prevalent in the Atlanta area.
Maybe New York or San Francisco, but not around here.
I rubbed at my forehead with one hand, trying to dispel the tension that had formed.
I removed my hand just in time to see a familiar blonde-haired woman walk into the bar carrying a pile of folded leather riding gear, along with motorcycle helmet and black boots, which she placed on a small table near the entrance. She took only a moment to take in her surroundings before boldly strutting into the bar.
No way.
Paige wore a little black leather miniskirt, sheer long-sleeved top that revealed a leather bra
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