Beyond Broken(23)

Once she got the hang of the program, however, Maddie grew more aware of the ongoing silence between them, feeling like she should say something to break it, to ease the awkwardness of it just a little. She twitched and shifted in her chair, her throat turning dry.

When she happened to glance up, her eyes widened when she saw his gaze on her. He looked almost annoyed, his mouth pinched down into a frown, the thin space between his brows creased. I'm sorry, was on the tip of her tongue, but then she looked determinedly away. Why should she be the one apologizing to him? She'd done nothing wrong.

She caught him looking at her a couple more times as the clock ticked by and each time unsettled her even more. It was almost as if he was expecting her to say something, like he waiting for it, anticipating it, which confused her even more.

Maybe he just wants another fight, she thought. Maybe he likes to fight.

She wouldn't be the one to give in, however. She wanted to prove something to him, to herself, although she didn't quite know what exactly. It still seemed important.

After a couple hours of working in complete silence, Caleb finally surrendered. In a gruff voice, he asked, "Who did you lose?"

Her brow furrowed, her eyes darting up to his. Looking resigned, he simply stared at her, waiting for an answer. It took her a moment to realize that he was referring to their conversation last night-if it could even be called a conversation.

She wanted to say, "I'm just trying to work, Caleb," but it seemed childish to throw his words back in his face. And, despite the way he hurt her last night, she didn't want to hurt or reject him.

So, she told him, "My dad."

He was quiet for a moment and she returned her gaze to the screen in front of her, although she couldn't make sense of the numbers.

"What happened?"

Maddie swallowed. "Pulmonary embolism. It was a blood clot in his lungs."

"Did he suffer?"

Something in his tone made her look up again. She recalled Brian's words from the first night she worked here. How Caleb's uncle had passed away from lung cancer. How they'd all known it was coming, how he'd been sick for a long time.

Maddie didn't know if her father had suffered or not. There had been symptoms, but he'd brushed them off. Towards the end, she didn't know if he'd been in any acute pain.

"It was sudden."

Not wanting to talk about it, she pushed out of her chair, going over to another stack of papers from 2010 she'd organized, balanced on a couple boxes. Her hands were shaking and when she reached for them in a hurry, desperately needing a distraction, she accidentally kicked one of the boxes, sending the papers toppling to the floor.

"Darn," she murmured, dropping to her knees. She heard Caleb's chair creak and then felt his heat as he crouched next to her. "It's all right, I got it."

Their hands brushed, reaching for the same paper, and she snatched hers back so quickly that it made him freeze. She shuffled together the stack, but knew that she'd had to reorganize it before she could enter anything into the computer.

"Here," he said, giving her what he'd collected.

"Thank you." Even to her own ears, her tone sounded stiff.

She was just about to rise from the floor, but he took her by surprise and caught her hand, just like he'd done the night before. Staring down at where their skin met, her lips parted and then she met his eyes.



       
         
       
        

That same look of bitter acceptance was written over his features and he seemed to be struggling with himself, looking like he was on the verge of saying something but then second guessing himself.

"I should get back to work," she said, her voice coming out as a whisper. They were too close, she thought in mild alarm. She could smell that same woodsy musk that made her mouth water. Her heartbeat increased when she imagined tasting his skin, but then she shook herself, knowing that it would never happen. Not in a million years.

His voice came out as a rasp. "I've always wondered whether it's better for someone to go quickly or to linger. My uncle lingered. And by the end, I was wishing he would die. That's fucked up, isn't it?"

The pain in his voice hit her like a hammer and she froze under his grip.

"For five months, he was in pain. I watched him slowly wither away, becoming a shell of the man he'd once been. I try not to think of him like that, but sometimes I can't not. On occasion, that's how I remember him. Maybe it's for the best that your father's death was sudden. Sometimes, things are inevitable. Life likes to fuck with us all, doesn't it? Sometimes, I'm thankful I got to say goodbye slowly. Other times, I wish he died when they found the cancer, because no one should have to go through what he went through, and no one should have to go through what I went through, what the people that loved him went through, because it's hard to come back from something like that. But I'm sure you know that already. You've probably thought about all this before, running it through your mind, making yourself crazy with it." He leaned closer. "What do you think of me now? Do you think I'm a monster for wishing he would die?"