Stolen Course(16)

When Alex graduated, he went off to the University of Georgia on a football scholarship. The following year, when I graduated, I followed him up there. He took me under his wing, and when I say that, I mean he ran off any guy who tried to look at me. I was off-limits to the entire football team, yet I still managed to date two of them behind his back. He’s a big teddy bear. I know he means well, but we still butt heads a good bit.

I’ve spent most of the day editing photos for clients, trying to wrap up my jobs before I take off. Most of this can be done remotely, but when I first get to Chicago, the last thing I want is deadlines looming over my head. I’ve watched the clock all day, waiting for a time I could call Caleb. I barely make it to eight p.m. my time—seven p.m. his—before I give in and dial his number. However, the call goes unanswered. I open my laptop back up and settle in with a glass of wine. It’s probably for the best that he didn’t answer. I have a lot of work to be done if I’m ever going to be able to move to Chicago.

Two glasses of wine later, my phone starts ringing. I glance at my phone and bite my lip when I see Caleb’s name light the screen.

“Hey, you.” I try to hide my giddiness.

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s going on?” Caleb purrs over the line.

“Not much. Just hanging out in bed, trying to finish up some work. What are you up to?”

“I’m on my way home from the gym. Sorry I didn’t answer earlier. I was in the ring when you called.”

“The ring?” I teasingly let out breathy sigh. It causes him to laugh too.

“Yeah, I box three nights a week. I hate running, so it helps with my cardio.”

“You hate to run?”

“The only time I run is when I have something serious on my mind. I can usually forget whatever it is with loathing when I run.”

I laugh at his logic. “I guess that’s one way to do it.” He doesn’t immediately respond, so an awkward silence falls over the phone. “So have you heard anything about Sarah?” I ask. I know he would have called me if he had, but it seems like an acceptable question to ask.

“She’s still at the hospital,” he answers shortly.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m a little tired. Listen, can I call you when I get home?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” I answer, suddenly feeling awkward to have called him. “You can just call me tomorrow. I’m probably heading to bed pretty soon.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

I hang up the phone, baffled by how distant he sounded.

Last night, he was funny and sweet. Caleb might have been a dick at first, but I knew it was only because he liked me. I’ve met him exactly once, but I could tell that Caleb is all man. The minute I mentioned Hunter and Alex, he became a dick—typical alpha-male syndrome. He probably got off the phone, put on a leopard-skin loin cloth, and pounded on his chest like a caveman for a few minutes too. I mean, hell, just the way he reacted when I knocked Jesse down at the hospital gave him away.

I figured he’d be stoked to hear from me, but whatever. I can’t sit here trying to analyze Caleb Jones. I’ve got pictures to edit, wine to drink, and a pillow calling my name. He can figure out his shit on his own, but I can say that that will be the last time I call him just to shoot the shit.

I finally fall asleep with images of ugly King Charles spaniels floating through my head. I couldn’t have been asleep long when my phone starts ringing beside me. Caleb’s name flashes on the display, sending fear through my veins. No way would he call this late without it being horrible news about Sarah. I snatch it off the nightstand and immediately click the green button.

“Is she okay?” I don’t even bother with a hello.

“What?” he asks.

“Sarah? Is she okay?” I repeat.

“Oh, yeah. I mean, I guess she is. I haven’t heard anything today.”

“Shit, Caleb! You scared me to death. I thought if you were calling this late it had to be shitty news!” I yell as I try to calm myself down.

“Jesus, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about that.”

“Yeah, we definitely need to develop a system for Sarah updates. Maybe one ring for bad news, two rings for good.”

“Um, you picked up on the first ring this time. I didn’t have a chance for it to get to the second ring.” He starts laughing.

I amend my brilliant idea. “Okay, one ring for good, two for bad.”

“What exactly am I supposed to do after these one or two rings? Hang up? What if you don’t hear the phone ring and just see a missed call from me? Is that good news or bad?” he asks, continuing to laugh at me.