Free Stay With Me by Elyssa Patrick

ask.
    “I’m not a really big art guy. It was a going away to college gift from Phoebe.”
    “Who’s Phoebe?”
    “One of my sisters.” Caleb pulls out the chair from his desk. “You want to sit?”
    “Sure.” I take the seat, and Caleb sits down on the edge of his bed. “You said you had four sisters?”
    “Yup.” He ticks them off on his fingers. “Daphne. Phoebe is fifteen but going on forty. Rhea’s twelve. And Persephone—but we all call her Percy—is eight.”
    So that little girl was his sister.
    “I ran into your sister and mother at the market earlier today,” I say. “Percy asked for my autograph and a picture.”
    “Oh God. I’m sorry about that.”
    “No, you don’t have to apologize. I didn’t mind, truly. Little kids don’t bother me. It’s the adults who cross lines that I have a problem with.”
    He studies me for a long moment. “Why weren’t you going to come to the party?”
    Damn, I should’ve blamed my not wanting to go on what happened before Art class. But it’s too late to do that now.
    “Just some magazines I saw.” The wooden chair is starting to feel uncomfortable, so I get up and lean against the wall by the window.
    “What happened?”
    I let out a sigh. “It’s just my mother being my mother.”
    “You want to talk about it?”
    “Not really.”
    Caleb pushes off from the bed and moves toward me. His hand cups the side of my face, his touch warm and seeping into me, easing the hard knot of tension in my chest but creating a different type of strain altogether. A strain that makes goose bumps appear along my arms, and causes my heart to race. “You sure? Because I’m here for you.”
    I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
    “Okay.” He holds his hand out to mine, palm facing up. It’s open, wide, and if I slip my hand into his, I know I won’t ever let go. I won’t ever want to let go.
    I stare at him and then at his hand.
    “Trust me, Hailey.”
    “Trust is . . . difficult for me,” I say.
    “I get that, but I’m not going to hurt you.”
    Maybe not, but if I lost my heart to him . . . well, there are a lot of ways to be hurt that you can’t come back from, as I very well know.
    But to really be me—to really find out who I am and what I want—I need to start somewhere.
    I take his hand.
    And true to his word, Caleb doesn’t let go.

Chapter 8

    W E WALK DOWNSTAIRS, HIS HAND still on mine, and I feel warm and glowing, as if incandescent lights are beaming from me, showing everyone how happy I am. Daphne and Nick aren’t anywhere near the keg, so we head to the kitchen. The shot table has been cleared off, and Daphne and Nick are by the island, their heads bent close together as they put candles on a sheet cake. Jamie is leaning against the patio door, keeping his eyes off the cake and talking easily with a bunch of people. Griff is in the living room but walks over to us, along with Kai and Dylan.
    Jamie looks at Caleb and me holding hands. “I knew it!”
    Nick glances over at us, a smile on his lips. “I think we all knew it.”
    “I called it first,” Jamie points out. “So, you guys dating now?”
    “Jamie, you’re worse than my mother and father combined,” Caleb says. “And, clearly, this is why you’re not dating anyone.”
    “Man, you know why I’m not really dating.” Jamie gives an exaggerated sigh. “My heart belongs to—”
    “Your cock,” Griff says suddenly, his voice deep and gravelly.
    “He speaks!” Jamie goes to Griff, punching him lightly on his arm. “Only took you five hours until you decided to open your mouth.”
    “I only talk when necessary,” Griff says. “I don’t go on and on and on, unlike you.”
    Jamie rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Like a fart, you’re silent but deadly.”
    “You’re drunk,” Caleb says, and looks toward his sister and Nick. “You two almost done over there?”
    “Almost,” Daphne says. “We need something to light the candles with. Have anything?”
    Caleb nods.