Poison Me Sweetly (21 page)

“He's nice. I like Caleb better, though.” She looks up
and gives me a small smile. “He always makes time for me.”

“He's pretty nice,” I agree. “But, I think it might
help if you spoke with your counselor, too. It doesn't have to be just with
Caleb. Honey, you accept help where you can get it. Trust me, I pushed everyone
away, and it was the worst thing I could do at the time.”

Her eyes search mine. “Does it get easier, Zoey?”

My breath hitches in my chest. Am I really sitting
here, trying to counsel a child that is grieving, when I can't even deal with my
own grief? For me, it's only gotten worse, but I can't tell her that. I try to
be as honest as I can, because she deserves it. “It's always going to be hard,
Micaela. You're going to wake up every day and think of him. But one day, I
think those memories will bring you peace. Sometimes mine do when I have a good
dream of Micah.” It's not very often, but once in a great while, I will feel a
brief sense of peace after I dream of him. Almost as if he was visiting me,
giving me a piece of himself even though he's not here anymore.

“I dream of him,” Micaela admits as she studies me. “I
feel better when I talk about him to Caleb.”

“Talk about him as much as you can then. Remember him
and all those good times.”

She nods.

“Would you like my phone number? If you ever need
anything, I'd like you to call me.”

“I'd like that, Zoey.”

The advice I'd given Micaela haunts me for the next
few days. I'm such a hypocrite. I give an eleven-year-old advice that I can't
even adhere to myself. God, I feel like my emotions are all over the place
tonight. There's the part of me that wants to ignore it all and numb myself
with alcohol, so I can brush it off until I'm ready to deal with it. Then
there's the logical side that tells me that if I'm aware that I've handled my
grief badly—that I need to fix it before it gets worse—then I need to brace
myself and just do what I've been avoiding.

I don't know what to do. Would talking about Micah
really help? Would it begin to heal me? Or has my grief the past three years
poisoned me in some way? I mean look at what I've done to Ace, AJ, and Jeremy.
I pushed them away but used them at the same time. I've been selfish.

Someone bumps into me, and I am pulled back to the
present. It's another weekend, another party, another beer. It's all starting
to merge together into one sick cycle. It's what you do when you're in college.
You party and drink. But toss in my issues, and I know none of this is doing me
any good. If anything, it fucks with my mind even more. The alcohol and the
hangovers, they’re all I seem to do. Remember shit, get drunk, puke my guts out
from a hangover, go to the next party, drink all my problems away, and then
back with my head in the toilet the following morning.

As my eyes flicker around the party, I consider
leaving. I drove my car here after all. I want to drink more tonight, but I've
restricted myself to one beer. I'm learning that
myself
plus alcohol equals me doing stupid stuff. And after the confrontation with the
guys this week, I'd felt like proving to them that I do have my head on
straight sometimes.

Plus, I didn't like how they'd been hovering tonight,
even before we'd left for the party. I'd known they were going to stick to me
like glue this evening, and I'd finally gone off on them about an hour ago. I
told them that if they were going to act like damn babysitters, I was going
home. That the next party I go to, I'd go alone. That did the trick.

Ace was somewhere in the condo with a pretty brunette.
Or they might have left. With Ace, I'm guessing he hurried her back to his
place. Jeremy had disappeared about thirty minutes ago, while Caleb had been
pulled away by some guys he knew from his classes. AJ wasn't with us, because
he has a date with a girl he's been seeing the past few weeks. Jake, Dillon,
and Charlie are here tonight as well, but I'm not in the mood to be around
them, either.

So I'd gone off to do my own thing. Danced with some
guys—check. Drank some beer—check. Made polite chit chat with some girls near
the bathroom—check.

I'm bored.

Maybe I'd go down to the beach for a while and get
some fresh air. The guy that puts on these parties does a fairly good job of
keeping the party going well into the night, but I'm moody tonight. With my
beer in hand, I walk towards the back of the condo where the kitchen is.
There's a set of glass doors that lead out onto a patio.

“Hey, Zoey,” a familiar voice says tentatively.

I look up to see Ashley. She's in the kitchen holding
a bottle of Smirnoff. She looks classy in her pretty flowery sun dress; her
blonde hair perfectly styled around her face. I suddenly feel like a total
frump in my tank and shorts.

“Hi,” I say lightly as I try to remember my manners.
Frankly, I'm a little annoyed. I'd apologized to her at Grendel's, but that
doesn't mean I want to be friendly with her. I want to put that chapter of my
life behind me.

Ashely smiles a bit nervously at me. “Micah's
anniversary is coming up, and some of us are meeting at his burial site for a
memorial that day. We'd really like for you to come.”

All the blood in my veins turn to ice. “You keep in
touch with Micah's friends?”

She nods. “We put together a memorial every year. I
wanted to invite you the first year but...just the sight of me seemed to upset
you. I'm sorry the invitation is coming a little late, but we'd love to have
you join us.”

“Um, I need some time to think it over.”

“Sure. It's at five next Friday.”

“Okay, thanks.”

She smiles and disappears into the crowd.

I stand there numbly in the kitchen, unable to move.
They do a memorial in honor of my brother every year. I haven't even gone to
his grave site since the funeral. I haven't once gone to visit him in the three
years that he’s been dead. I have done nothing to keep his memory alive. I
suddenly feel cold and alone. I feel
ashamed.
He'd
saved
me, and
I have pretty much spit on his memory, turning my back on him and life in
general. Because I'm not really living. I know that. I go through the motions,
but my heart isn't into it.

It hurts.

My chest aches, and once again I turn back to old
habits. They say old habits die hard, I would have to agree. Several shots
later, I'm feeling the effects of the alcohol and the pain is beginning to
ease. I'm still in the kitchen, sticking close to the alcohol when Caleb finds
me.

“Hey, there you are,” he says as he walks up, a
friendly smile on his face.

“Hey there, Cowboy.”

His smile fades as his eyes take in my flushed face
and slightly glazed eyes. “You're drunk.”

“Well, aren't you
observant.
You should know by now that getting piss ass drunk is what I'm best at,” I say
with a hint of sarcasm.

Concern darkens his face. “Zoey, I think maybe I
should take you home,” he says carefully.

Before I can reply, his gorgeous blonde girlfriend
approaches. She pushes right in front of me so that she can face Caleb, her
well-manicured hand touching his chest in a proprietorial way as she looks up
at him. “Caleb, I need your help.”

“Not right now, Anya,” he says almost curtly as he
tries to peer at me from over her head.

“Gina's high on something, and she's about to do
something really stupid. She won't listen to me.”

“What?” he asks, his eyes now completely focused on
Anya.

I slip away easily while he’s distracted, making my
way through the crowd to the patio doors. I slip outside, dodge the people
standing around, and walk down to the beach. The fresh night air feels good
against my heated skin, and I walk along the sand. My sandals hinder me, and I
kick them off before they can cause me to fall flat on my face. It's a long
walk to where the water pushes up on the sand, and once I get there, I stare
out at the glittering water. The moon is bright tonight, and the sound of the
waves is soothing. I don't know why, but I suddenly feel a sense of peace and
the ocean beckons to me.

I'm drunk, which is probably why the water looks so
inviting when yesterday I'd been frightened of it. The weirdest feeling sweeps
through me. I want to go in the water. Not far enough to drown, but the fact
that I
could
makes the idea just that much more enticing. It's
exhilarating knowing I could join Micah in a heartbeat.

I take my clothes off and toss them away distractedly.
When I stand there in nothing but my bra and lacy thong, I walk towards the
water with a sense of determination. The world is hazy but peaceful as I numb
myself to all the stuff I don't want to think about. As I walk into waves, the
water pushes at my ankles and I weave slightly on my feet. God, I'm wasted.
I'll have to be careful. I'm not trying to kill myself here. I just want...

What the fuck do I want?

Hell if I know.

An arm slips around my waist, yanking me backwards. A
startled scream escapes me as my feet kick pathetically while I try to scramble
away. Someone curses as my legs tangle with jean-clad ones, then we're tipping
over. We hit the ground hard as a wave washes over me and my assailant. I gasp
at the coldness of the water as it drenches me from head to toe.

I hear a familiar voice curse as I'm hauled to my
feet, and a second later I'm dragged up on the beach and set on my ass. Someone
sits down behind me, strong arms wrapping around my upper body. His scent is
familiar, and my body recognizes the hard, muscular chest my back now rests
against.

Caleb.

A new sense of peace comes over me, and I sigh softly,
letting my body relax into him as I stare out at the waves. Now this is nice. I
don't care that I'm dripping wet or that I'm getting sand up my ass.

Caleb's slightly roughened cheek rests against mine.
“I know you're frightened of the water. Where's your head at tonight, Zoey? Why
would you try to go out there?” he asks me calmly.

I snuggle closer, my earlier angst forgotten as I let
my head drop back to his shoulder. I smile almost dreamily. “Death's
everywhere, you know.”

His body stiffens slightly against my back. “Is that
what you were doing? Were you hoping to die?”

“Don't be a dumbass. I'm not suicidal,” I mutter
indignantly as I struggle against him. What a dumb question!

His arms tighten around me as he says, “You're drunk,
Zoey. You shouldn't be anywhere near the water in this kind of state.”

“I just wanted to feel the water. I wasn't going to
let it take me,” I say defensively. My irritation fades, because he feels so
good. I can't help but turn my cheek and nuzzle his throat. His skin is warm,
and he smells delicious.

“Why are you out here?” I feel him brush aside the
damp hair near my temple and place a tender kiss there.

“I'm angry,” I whisper.

“Why are you so angry tonight?”

“I'm angry at myself,” I mumble. My eyelids are
getting heavy, and I'm suddenly really tired. All I want to do is close my eyes
and escape reality for a while.

“And why would you be angry with yourself?”

My eyes flicker shut, and I want to be done with this
conversation. “I want to go home. Will you drop me off?” My voice is beginning
to slur, and I know I'm about ready to pass out. I can feel it, and I'm so
ready to clock out for a while.

“I think you'd be better off at my place tonight,” I
hear him say, but his tone seems off somehow. Like he's concerned or something.

“No,” I protest, knowing I need to stay far away from
this man if I want to protect my heart. “You're
hers.
Better off staying
away from you.”

“Do you want me to be yours?” he asks softly.

A resigned sigh escapes me. “I'm too crazy for the
likes of you. You'd run and never look back.”

“Zoey—”

“I
wanna
leave,” I interrupt
as I struggle to sit up, my eyes opening again as I fight off the effects of
the alcohol. I don't want to talk to him anymore.

“That's fine,” Caleb assures. “But your mood is
unsettling, and I'm taking you back to my place until you snap out of it.
Where's your clothes?”

“Back that way somewhere,” I say, waving a hand in the
general direction.

“Stay here, and I'll get them,” he orders as he
carefully eases away from me. When he's satisfied I can sit on my own, he walks
away.

I stare out at the ocean for a moment before I lie
back in the sand as I stare up at the dancing stars. They're so pretty tonight.
I swear they're winking at me.

Holy shit. Someone's got a jackhammer or something,
and they are intent on bashing my head in. I groan, and even the sound of my
voice has my head pounding even more—if that's even possible. I try not to move
as I suffer through the headache. That's when I realize I'm naked. Wait—not
completely. I think I have something on. A tee-shirt, maybe? But it's hiked up,
leaving me naked below the waist.

My crusty eyelashes pry themselves apart as I force my
eyes open. A soft whimper escapes me as I squint around the room. The dark
curtains are pulled over the window, but sunlight is still sneaking in,
brightening the room.

Caleb's room.

Oh no...

I weakly push aside my hair and cautiously roll over
onto my back as I look around blearily. The other side of the bed is vacant,
and I see a light sheet rests around my hips. Thank God for that. I'm glad my
drunken bare-ass hadn't been sticking out all night. I'm usually okay with
nudity, but this is Caleb here. Everything is different with Caleb.

Speaking of...how did I end up here?

My head pounds, and I grimace as I try to remember
last night’s events. I went to the party and told the guys to back off.

Ashley
was
there.

Oh yeah, that would send me on a bender. My heart
aches as I think of the memorial, but I shove it aside as I try to think back
to how I'd ended up in Caleb's bed. I recall going down to the beach, and Caleb
had pulled me out before the water could reach my knees. Damn. Had I really
tried going into the ocean thinking it was somehow going to make things better?
Talk about ludicrous. I want to remember what happened afterwards, but there's
nothing there. Had we talked? What had I said last night? Uncertainty floods
me.

I need to leave.

With that thought in mind, I force myself to
cautiously sit up. My stomach rolls and not in a good way. I scramble out of
the bed, rushing out of the room and into Caleb's bathroom. I have a moment of
clarity and slam the door shut, locking it, before I drop in front of the
toilet and vomit my guts out.

When I'm finished, I carefully shut the lid, flush the
toilet, then rest my head on my crossed arms as I hover against the top of it.
I'll wait a few minutes, and if I'm not barfing again, I should be okay to walk
down to my own apartment without decorating the hall carpet or elevator with my
vomit.

A soft groan escapes me. Why can't people get good and
drunk without the hangover in the morning? It would make life much easier. I
have no idea how long I sit there, but when I feel like I'm well enough to
leave, I gingerly rise to my feet.

So far, so good.

I pluck at the tee-shirt I'm wearing, and it smells
like Caleb. I briefly recall him wearing it last night. As much as I like it, I
can't go down to my apartment completely naked but for a man's shirt. I wonder
what he did with my clothes. I would have to ask, and just the thought of
seeing Caleb has my stomach flip-flopping again. I'd planned on going in the
ocean last night for some asinine reason. I don't even remember why. However, I
do know Caleb well enough to know he's going to want answers.

My insides twist.

That's when I spy a flash of red in the mirror I'm
standing before. I squint, my eyes narrowing on the clothes hanging over the
shower curtain rod behind me. The bright red bra...

I spin around, a small yelp escaping as the world
spins slightly. I grab onto the counter top and stare at the bra with horror.

“Zoey? Are you okay?” Caleb asks from outside the
door.

“Uh...yeah,” I say in a strangled voice.
Go away!

I'm mortified as I stare at the red lace see-through
bra. I vaguely recall putting it on last night before leaving for the party.
Caleb saw... Of course he saw! Who else would have stripped me down and put a
tee-shirt on me before tucking me in his bed? With gritted teeth, I reach up
and yank it down before my eyes shift to the other barely there scrap of red
lace. At least I hadn't been stupid enough to wear the
crotchless
panties. I quickly grab the thong down and begin to pull on the two scraps of
fabric. Yeah, totally gross. I'm guessing Caleb rinsed them out though before
hanging them up to dry. They don't smell too nasty from the ocean, and they
aren't gritty with sand.

After slipping on the tank and shorts, I stand in the
middle of Caleb's bathroom and try to figure out how to deal with my
embarrassment. The fact that he knows I'm wearing the bra he'd bought for me...
I don't want him to think that I'm pining for him. In reality, that's exactly
what I'm doing. But
geesh
, he don't need to know
that.

A light knock on the door startles me. “Are you done?
I'd like to talk.”

My aching head drops into my hands, and I groan
inwardly. Talk? Hell, no. But I can't exactly leave his apartment without
seeing him. Ugh. I have got to quit with the damn alcohol. When will I ever
learn my lesson? I always end up in these awkward situations after a night of
binge drinking.

I hear Caleb sigh on the other side of the door. “Will
it make you feel better to know that I have no intention of grilling you about
last night or anything else until you're feeling better?”

This has my hands dropping, and I stare at the door as
if I can see him on the other side. “You don't?” I ask tentatively.

“No. I'm guessing you're feeling like shit. Right?”

“Yeah.”

“I'd rather talk about it when you're not hung over.
Can you come out? As much as I like the wood design on this door, I don't
really care to talk to it.”

I open the door and reluctantly meet his gaze before
looking him over. He looks good this morning in a pale blue shirt that shows off
his dark tan while jeans cover his legs. His feet are bare, and when I glance
back at his face again, I see he looks alert and refreshed. His hair is damp
from an earlier shower, and he smells nice and clean. He looks
frickin
' edible while I look like complete shit.

He smiles. “Hey there.”

I scowl. “I hate morning people.”

“Oh, I'm well aware of that,” he says as his lips
twitch with bemusement. “I figured that out the morning of the handcuff fiasco.
And the last time you woke up here, you wouldn't even talk to me.”

Heat spreads throughout my body as I remember the
morning after our one-night stand. I try to shove it aside and concentrate on
getting the hell out of his apartment. As much as I like Caleb, I feel like I'm
at a disadvantage here. How much had I said last night? I'm praying it wasn't
anything about Micah or him for that matter. Then there's the fact that I'm
wearing his bra as if it means something to me.

“I would love to know what's going on in that mind of
yours,” Caleb says as he studies my face.

“My mind would give you nightmares.”

“I don't scare easily. Nor do I run away,” he says
deliberately, his eyes probing mine as if he's waiting for some kind of
reaction. As if his words are supposed to remind me of something.

Alarm flickers within me, I bite my lip. “I said stuff
last night?” I ask softly.

“You don't remember?”

“I remember wanting to go in the ocean and you pulling
me out. That's about it.”

He nods. “We'll talk, but not right now.” His eyes
flicker over me from head to toe. “Do you want to go freshen up first and then
get your car, or get your car now?”

My eyes widen. “My car? I left my car at the party?”

“Well, you certainly didn't drive yourself home. You
passed out on the beach.”

My baby was left out all night on the street? Around drunk
people? Horror washes through me. “I have to go get her!” I walk past him and
hurry down the hall and into the living room.

“Her?”

“My car! Where's your keys?” I demand as I look
around, my headache forgotten.

“These?” Caleb holds up his car keys. I lunge for
them, and he actually laughs at me and then tucks them in his pocket. My eyes
drop to where they are hidden. “Go for it,” he challenges.

“Not likely.”

“I can see that your car comes first. I'll drive you.”

Great. Now I have to sit next to him on the way to the
condo where the party had been. That means time to 'talk'.

Caleb chuckles. “You didn't really think I'd let you
do the driving, did you?”

“You drive like an old fart.”

“And I’m guessing
your
driving will likely give
me nightmares. Let's go, Sparky.”

We make our way out of the apartment building and
outside to the parking lot. I squint and hold back a groan as the bright
sunlight causes my head to pound even more. As soon as I am settled in the
passenger seat of Caleb's car, I close my eyes to block it out.

“You sure you're okay to drive?” Caleb asks me as he
backs the car out of the parking space.

“I'll be fine.”

“We really do need to talk, Zoey,” he tells me, his
tone quite serious.

“You said you weren't going to grill me,” I point out,
not bothering to open my eyes.

“I'm not. When is your last class tomorrow?”

“Three-forty,” I admit a bit reluctantly.

“Mine's at three. Can we go somewhere and talk? Just
you and me, no more bullshitting and stuff.”

The tone of his voice has me prying my lids apart so I
can look at him. His expression is set with determination. I want to deny him
this. Tell him that under no circumstances are we going to have any sort of
heart to heart conversation. I don't do that shit. But I sense that if I turn
him down, he'll keep at me until he gets his way. I already know that this man
is about as determined as they come. I'm also realizing that since I woke up
this morning, he's allowing me full control of our conversation. Caleb has two
sides. One where he's willing to be passive, and the other he's controlling and
aggressive. I've seen both, and right now I am thankful for the side he's
giving me. Especially when I know he's got questions concerning my bout of
stupidity last night.

“I'm not good with the whole talking thing. At least
when it comes to serious stuff.” I need to make it clear to him that if he's
got expectations, he better keep them pretty damn low.

He nods with understanding. “I know. We'll figure it
out, though.”

I study him as he drives. I'm sensing another shift in
our relationship.

He must feel my eyes on him, because he glances at me.
“What?”

“How long have you been up this morning?” I ask out of
simple curiosity.

“I don't think I really went to sleep.”

“Really?” I’m taken aback by his answer. “For not
getting much sleep, you look a helluva lot better than I do,” I point out.

His lips pull into a grin. “I'm glad I'm pleasing to
the eye this morning.” His lips then turn down, and he slants me a brief look.
“You scared me last night. I couldn't sleep after that,” he says honestly.

“I scared you?”

His hands tighten on the steering wheel briefly as he
pulls up behind my Camaro parked along a side street near the condo. He puts
the car in park, and his blue eyes meet mine. “I went after you last night,
because I knew you were well past your limit. When I couldn't find you in the
condo, I went down to the beach in hopes that you weren't drunk enough to dare
going near the water.” He shakes his head, lips tightening. “You're lucky I saw
you when I did.”

“I wasn't out that far,” I say defensively.

He gives me a hard look. “You were drunk as shit.
Don't take much to drown when your mind is fucked up.”

So much for Passive Caleb. My lips tighten, and I
stare at the license plate on my car. “It was idiotic,” I agree reluctantly.

“Good to know you agree.”

I sigh, rubbing my temple. “I don't remember much, but
I do know I wasn't out there to harm myself. I'm guessing that's what you're
thinking. I wouldn't do that.”

“Wouldn't you? Do you think about it sometimes, Zoey?”
he asks deliberately.

My entire body stiffens. “You said we weren't going to
talk about last night.”

“Tomorrow. We'll talk tomorrow,” he agrees with a hint
of frustration in his voice.

“Fine. Thanks for the ride,” I mutter before I climb
out of the car. I'm about to shut the passenger door when I think better of it.
Instead, I bend down and peer at him, my eyes hesitant as I meet his
questioning look. “Thanks for... Um...”

His expression softens. “You're welcome. Go home and
get some sleep.”

I nod and shut the door, grateful he hadn't made me
spell out what my gratitude was for. It's not very often I give thanks to
anyone. I appreciate the fact that he understood that it was difficult for me.