All the signs were there. And that was what kept her going; it was what gave her hope. She just needed him to realize those feelings, to give him time to process them. He'd had enough pain and betrayal in his life. She didn't want to push him when it came to romantic attachments because she knew how complicated it could be for him.
Which was another thing that lingered on her mind. Caleb wouldn't tell her about his aunt's sexual abuse. He kept that part of him so closed off, completely shut tight, that Maddie wondered if it was even healthy.
And every now and again, it would slip out, seeping through the cracks, leaving him shaken.
A couple times since he'd started sleeping with her in the master bedroom, he'd woken up with a start, sweating, his eyes darting around the dark room. It was like a jolt; it was like a light switch being turned on. A light sleeper, Maddie woke up whenever it happened, feeling the bed tremble and shake and Caleb's gasping breaths. He'd have to flip on the bedside lamp and illuminate the room before he could calm himself down. And Maddie felt helpless, watching him sit with his back to her on the edge of the bed, running his palms through his damp hair, listening to his deep inhalations.
The first time it happened, she'd asked him, hesitantly, "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," he rasped, his voice harsh. "Just go back to bed."
He'd risen from the bed and locked himself in the bathroom for five, ten, fifteen minutes and when he'd finally return, he'd clasped Maddie to him tightly, very tightly, and fell back into a restless sleep.
The second time it happened, it had been her fault. She'd had a hard time falling asleep that night, worrying about her student loan debt and that she'd have to cut back on her work hours soon, and almost unconsciously, she'd been tracing the dark lines of Caleb's tattoos.
He'd been in a dead sleep, but had come awake with a start, snatching her wrist and squeezing it hard, as though in warning. She'd cried out more in surprise than in pain and when Caleb realized what he was doing, he'd dropped her wrist like he'd been burned.
"Shit, Maddie," he'd cursed, hurriedly flipping on the light so he could inspect her wrist. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't … dammit … "
"No, I'm sorry," she'd said. "I shouldn't have done that."
She'd tried to assure him that she was fine, but it had left her a bit shaken. Caleb sensed it. He'd pushed himself out of bed and told her that he was going on a run, even though she'd tried to dissuade him. After he left, Maddie had lain in bed, wide-eyed, knowing that he couldn't not talk to someone about it. Every time she'd tried to breach the subject with him, he'd shot her down.
And he never brought the incidents up again. It was odd because Caleb was usually so confrontational when it came to work or his friends. If something was bothering him, he didn't hesitate to act on it, to try and make it better. He knew what he wanted and he usually got it, by sheer determination or stubbornness alone. When it came to this, however, he'd rather it all just disappear.
Maddie looked at him now. She could make out his sharp profile in the darkness, the cracks around the window blinds illuminating just enough of the room. He'd fallen asleep, his breaths slow and deep. And even though her cheek was nestled against his shoulder, she made sure not to touch him.
But sometimes it felt like she was running a race she couldn't win. And as she fell into a troubled sleep, such a divergence from how content she'd felt only moments before, she wondered how much longer she could keep up this facade before she cracked into a million pieces.
FORTY-ONE
It finally happened during such a normal part of her day. So suddenly and so unexpectedly and so carelessly that she almost didn't realize what had happened before it was too late.
Caleb had called, like he did in the afternoons when she went to campus. They talked about their days so far; Maddie told him about yet another encounter with a stranger on BART who touched her stomach-why did strangers like to touch other strangers stomachs anyway?-and Caleb told her that they were one day away from finishing the big restoration they'd been tirelessly working on, only to find out that their client had another car coming their way.
The money was good, Caleb had told her, so of course they would take it. But it meant some more late nights and another few weeks of stress.
They were ending their call and Maddie was distracted walking back to campus after lunch because a cyclist was trying to weave his way around her and she kept stepping accidentally into his path.
So when she said goodbye, she almost didn't register that she said, "I love you," right after it. It felt so natural, so easy, that the words had slipped right out.
It was only when her thumb was hovering over the 'End Call' button that she froze in the middle of the pathway. The cyclist cursed and flipped her off as he rode away but she didn't even care. The call was still running, which meant that Caleb hadn't ended it on his side yet. More importantly, she wondered if he heard what she'd just said.