Poison Me Sweetly (26 page)

My brother is in there.

I stare at the gleaming casket with the flower
arrangement on the center of it. The pastor's voice drones on as I stand beside
my parents at the burial site, my eyes glued to the casket where my brother
lies within its confining depths. Tears streak my face as I clutch my hands in
front of me, my fingers twisting against one another in agitation.

“Let me out!”

The sound of Micah's voice has me starting in the
quietness of the cemetery. My eyes skitter around, and I see that everyone is
watching the pastor with dark, saddened eyes. Do they not hear him?

“Help me! Zoey, don't let them bury me!”

I watch in horror as the casket lid shakes, as if
someone's pounding their fists into the lid from the inside. The flowers begin
to shake and slide off the smooth surface. I watch as the roses drop to the
ground, breaking apart as they lie scattered, their delicate blooms permanently
bruised and broken.

“Zoey! Save me!”

“Don't you hear him?” I cry out to those that surround
me.

They ignore me.

I grab my father's arm. “Dad! Can't you hear him?” His
eyes stay fastened on the pastor, and it's as if I'm no longer there. I turn to
my mother, and she's staring right through me. I'm invisible. With a soft cry,
I turn away and rush to the casket. My fingertips glide across the smooth
surface as I search for the latch.

“Save me, Zoey!!”

“I'm trying!” I sob as I fumble with the lid, and then
I use all my weight as I push it up so that the lid opens. I blink and stare
down at Micah. His eyes are closed, his handsome face pale. The dark hair that
usually looks so shaggy has been artfully swept over the part of his forehead
that had been damaged in the accident.

“Micah?” I whisper.

Why isn't he moving? He's as still as death in his
dark suit, his white hands clasped on top of his chest as if he's sleeping
peacefully.

“What have you done?” My mother suddenly shouts at me.

I flinch and look up. Everyone is staring at me
accusingly as I stand there with the casket open. Their eyes ravage my already
tortured soul.

“Zoey, wake up,” someone says as they gently shake my
shoulder.

My eyes fly open, and I stare up at Caleb before I
wince and recoil from the brightness of the room. The lamp is on, and I reach
up and rub my eyes.

“You were having a nightmare.”

“What are you doing here?” I mumble as I shift on the
bed, then peer up at him with confusion. He's lying on the bed on his
side—still fully clothed, his head propped up on one hand as he studies me. His
dark hair is slightly mussed and whiskers line his jaw. He reaches out and
gently pulls a strand of hair away from my face. “I asked if I could spend the
night. Don't you remember?”

I start to shake my head, but then it all comes back
to me. The guys finding me choking on my vomit, the confrontation with Ace...
I'd allowed Caleb to stay with me the entire day as I tried to sleep off my
hangover in between nibbling on toast that Caleb insisted I try to eat. When it
became late, he'd asked if he could spend the night, and I'd found that I
hadn't wanted him to leave.

“Yeah, I remember,” I say quietly.

His eyes search mine. “Will you tell me about your
dream?”

Oddly enough, I find that I want to tell him. I think
if anyone is going to understand whatever is going on with me, it'll be him. I
roll onto my side so that I'm facing him, and we stare at each other, our faces
only inches apart. My voice is soft as I say, “I dreamed of the funeral.”

He's silent as he watches me.

I lick my dry lips and continue. “We were at the
cemetery. I could hear Micah inside the casket, and he was begging me to let him
out. To save him. I was the only one that could hear him.”

“What happened next?”

“I opened the casket. He was still dead, and then my
mom was yelling at me.” I shiver and draw the sheets up and around me to ward
off the sudden chill.

Caleb moves closer, and he touches my cheek with a
warm hand, his eyes gentle now. “You dream this a lot?”

“I have all sorts of dreams about him. I'm always
trying to save him,” I whisper as I press my cheek further into his hand. This
man, he can bring me comfort so easily, and I savor the feel of his palm
touching my face. I feel an odd peacefulness with him that I’ve never felt
before with anyone.

He leans closer to me, his lips inches from my
own.  “You couldn't have saved him, Zoey.”

“I know.” I stare at him, and I find that I wish he'd
kiss me. Instead, his hand slides up to my forehead where he brushes my hair
back, then his lips move up to press a kiss above my left eyebrow. A soft sigh
escapes me, and I let my eyes shut as I relish the feel of his tenderness. I
can't help but inch closer to him so I can feel his body heat. His arms come
around me, and I find myself enveloped in the comfort of his embrace.

“Can I ask you a question?” Caleb asks, his breath
teasing the hair near my temple.

I nod, not speaking.

“We didn't get a chance to talk about what went down
at the condo. What set you off that night? You said you were angry at yourself.
Why?”

Instead of answering, I simply savor his embrace while
my mind wanders. There's a tiny voice inside me warning me that I'm giving him
too much today. I've let him in when I should have made him leave my apartment.
He seems to have some sort of effect on me, though. I feel drawn to him in ways
I've never felt before. It's not lost on me either that the usual shit that
comes out of my mouth hasn't made an appearance. I've been calm with him, my
anger unusually dormant. Even while Ace had railed, it hadn't risen to the
occasion. Maybe I'm just tired from the alcohol. Or maybe I'm just tired of
fighting everyone all the time.

“I haven't been to Micah's grave since the funeral,” I
confide in the quietness of my bedroom.

“This is why you're angry with yourself?” Caleb asks
cautiously.

I nod against his chest, not opening my eyes. “I ran
into his ex-girlfriend at the party. They do a memorial service every year, and
she wanted to invite me. I... I can't go there, Caleb. I just can't. At first,
I avoided it, because I couldn't bear it. But then I began to feel like I
didn't deserve to be there. After that, I started to do all these stupid
things, and I know Micah would be disappointed in me. I feel ashamed...”

“Micah will always love you, Zoey. No matter what you
do, he'll always forgive. That's what people do when they love,” he says
gently.

I'm not sure what to say, so I fall silent. My left
hand lifts, and I ease it around his waist and burrow my face into his chest.
“I feel weird today.”

“How so?”

“Numb. Like I'm here, but yet I’m not,” I murmur.

“You're emotionally drained. I think you've held all
this in for way too long and it needs to come out.”

“I'm so tired.”

“Sleep then. I'm not going anywhere.”

I wake up to the scent of something delicious cooking,
and my stomach growls loudly. With a wide yawn that nearly cracks my jaw, I
open my eyes and peer around my bedroom. I vaguely remember Caleb sharing my
bed with me last night. I'd had a dream about Micah, and I remember talking
about it briefly before falling asleep in his arms. This should alarm me, but
it doesn't. I don't talk to people about deep shit, but I find it's easy with
Caleb.

I sit up and run a hand through my tousled hair. As I
hear him rummaging around my kitchen, I realize he's making a place for himself
in my life. I'm not quite sure how I feel about this. I still haven't made up
my mind about this relationship thing.

Movement in my bedroom doorway has me looking up a
second later. Caleb stands there, looking handsome as ever in fresh jeans and a
tee that hugs his hard chest. His feet are bare, and his hair is slightly damp.
He's holding a spatula in one hand, and he looks pleased to see that I'm awake.
“Breakfast is ready.”

My nose wrinkles as I look down at my camisole tank
and the wrinkled boxer shorts I'm wearing. I look like road kill. “I need a
shower first.”

“Nope. Eat first, then shower.”

“But...”

He gives me a dismissive look. “Zoey, you were covered
in your own vomit the other day. I've seen you at your worst, and this isn't
it. You look adorable,” he says, breaking into a wide grin.

“Adorable?” I echo. “Kittens and puppies are adorable.
I'm usually scary in the morning or so the guys say.”

Caleb snickers. “If this is your version of scary, I
hate to break it to you, but you aren't as badass as you seem to think.”

I shake my head and climb out of the bed. I pause by my
dresser to grab a hair tie, and I pull my hair back into a simple, messy knot.
Then, I follow Caleb through the apartment to the kitchen, my eyes focusing on
his tight ass in those jeans. I can't help but lick my lower lip as I study it.
What would it be like to wake up to a fine ass like that every morning?

His ass disappears behind the counter as he goes to
the stove while I settle on a stool in front of the counter top. Another yawn
breaks my jaw. Caleb sets a plate full of pancakes and scrambled eggs in front
of me, and then a glass of orange juice is set down next to it.

“Did you buy groceries?” My face scrunches at the
thought. I don't want him spending money on me or feeling like he has to take
care of me.

“I ran upstairs and grabbed some of my own. You barely
ate yesterday, so I wanted to make sure I fed you properly this morning,” he
tells me as he begins to set dirty dishes in the sink.

I pick up my fork and can't help the disgruntled look
that crosses my face. At least he doesn't see my expression. “You didn't have
to stay and take care of me.”

“It was either me or Ace. I didn't trust him to
contain his temper with you.”

Oh. Was that the only reason he'd stayed? I find
myself slightly disappointed.

Caleb glances at me from over his shoulder. “Eat.”

Without a word, I begin to devour the pancakes first.
I'm absolutely starved, and in between mouthfuls, I tell him he's a good cook.

“I can whip up a few things, but other than that, I
mostly rely on take-out,” he says as he fills the sink with water.

“Yeah, me too,” I murmur and reach for my orange
juice, taking a sip.

“So, since you seem to be more alert today, maybe we
can talk about a few things?” Caleb asks casually.

“Like what?” I ask cautiously as I spear my eggs and
take a bite.

He turns and gives me a funny look. “You've slept with
both Ace and Jeremy?”

I choke on my eggs and cough. Once my airway is clear,
I look at him with raised eyebrows. “You want to talk about my past bed
partners?”

He shrugs, crossing his arms as he leans a hip against
the counter top. “I'm curious.”

I set my fork down and grow amused. “Where did this
curiosity come from?”

“Jeremy and I had you in the shower, and we had to
strip you down. I was trying to...ah, keep your modesty intact, but Jeremy made
a comment about how he's seen it all before. Plenty of times,” he says dryly.
“As for Ace, you guys tend to joke about it, so I already figured you guys had
a thing in the past.”

“Are you jealous?”

Blue eyes hold mine. “Yeah, I think I am.”

His admission has me staring at him. “Really?”

He gives me a look. “You know I've got feelings for
you. I'm just trying to figure you out.”

“By asking about past bed partners?”

Caleb uncrosses his arms and walks over to stand
before the counter top, his eyes on mine. “Yes. Ace is into restraints, is that
something you're into?”

I can't help but laugh as I push aside my empty plate.
“No. Trust me, Ace and I are not compatible. You should know that by now if
you've listened to our jokes.”

“What about you and Jeremy?”

“What about him?” I ask carefully.

“Is he competition?” Caleb asks softly, his eyes
focusing on mine intently.

“No,” I say with a shake of my head. “It was just a
'friends with benefits' kind of thing. I ended it when I realized maybe things
were going too far.”

“In what way?” he presses.

“I was worried Jeremy might be starting to read more
into it.”

He nods. “Have you considered what we could have,
Zoey?”

My lips flatten and I look away.

Caleb sighs. “We both know you want to.”

“You can't know that for sure,” I say a bit sharply.

He gives me a look. “You were staring at my ass
earlier.”

“No, I wasn't!” I sputter.

“I could feel it, Sparky.”

Well, hell. I bring my hands up and rub them across my
face. “I need more time, Caleb.”

“You can't avoid the issue forever. Sooner or later,
you're going to have to give me an answer,” he warns me.