I blinked, too lost in studying Cael to process his question. When I didn’t say anything in response, he turned to me, resting his chin on his crossed arms.
“Pardon?” I asked, cheeks blazing at being caught studying him.
Cael’s eyes seemed to flash with annoyance. “The poets. What did they write about?” It was like he needed something to quickly occupy his mind. Something to take him away from whatever hell kept him trapped.
I could do that for him. “They were the English Romantics. Wrote of beauty, thoughts, and feelings—a bit out there for the time. Some of the most famous poets were Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Southey.” I shrugged. “I guess they were seen as rebels. Shaping what they wanted poetry to be, disregarding the old rules. Using it to express their feelings.”
“Do they have any of their poems in that book?”
“They do,” I said and turned to one of my favorites by Wordsworth.
I went to hand it to him to read, when he said, “Can you read it?” My heart beat like a drum and heat infused my face. I went to shake my head, to refuse, when he said, “I like your accent.” And my thundering heart just about stopped.
“I like your accent …”
I could feel my skin burning with embarrassment, but Cael still wore that devastated look in his eyes, and I yearned to make it better.
So I read.
“I wandered lonely as a cloud …” I read each beautiful line about skies full of stars, daffodils, and waves and marveling at these remarkable sights when pensive and still. And I felt every line. Reciting this poem in the place that was its muse was surreal and beyond a blessing.
When I finished, Cael’s attention was fixed on me. He didn’t say anything immediately, then rasped, “It sounds just like here.”
I smiled and nodded. It was my sentiment exactly. “I’m nearly done, if you want to read it when I’m finished.”
Cael stared at me again. And I felt like he was looking for something in my face. I had no idea what. “Thanks,” he said.
I shifted in my seat and watched a small motorboat pass us by. A young family was on board. A mama, daddy, and two little kids wearing little red life vests. They seemed so happy and carefree. I remembered those days.
“Do you feel any better yet?” I dared ask Cael.
Cael inhaled a long breath and slowly exhaled. “I never feel better,” he confessed, and his voice sounded as splintered as shattered glass. His expression was guarded, and I wondered what it had cost him to reveal that to me. Cael was so formidable, so tall and domineering, intimidating. Yet right at this moment, he seemed so fragile, so broken down by life I wanted to hold him tightly until he felt okay.
My heart fell. Because Cael’s simple confession was as raw as my own feelings. I flexed my hand, wanting to reach out and hold his hand, but I didn’t know if he’d want that—I didn’t think I had it in me to be that bold.
A few silent minutes passed before he asked, “Where are you from?”
The boat swayed soothingly as a larger tourist boat sailed by, causing small ripples to flutter across the lake. “Georgia. A small country town called Blossom Grove.”
Cael smiled the smallest and briefest smile, but it was enough to lift some of the gray from the day and let in a little sun. “A real Georgia peach, huh?”
I couldn’t stop myself blushing if I tried. He had smiled. He was talking to me and it felt like a blessing.
“He may need a friend …” I decided Ida was right.
“Yeah. I suppose. You’re from New England?” I asked in return.
Cael’s smile evaporated, his walls building back up. He nodded curtly. “Small town outside of Boston.”
I fiddled with the edges of the paperback I was holding. “I’m meant to go to Harvard this fall.” I surprised myself with that admission. I didn’t know why, but Cael suddenly tensed, and his eyes that had been so open and vulnerable quickly frosted over and took away any vulnerability he was exposing. I watched his body language change from open to defensive, and his usual high walls quickly rebuilt.
“Time to go,” he said coldly and took hold of the oars.
Confused, I said, “Did I say something—“
“I said we’re going back. I’m done here,” he bit out harshly, voice brokering no argument. Chills sank into my bones, and I tried to think of what had just happened. What had set him off.
We didn’t speak again as he steered us back. The same edge of frustration had returned to him, and he powered his way to the hostel’s shore, just as harshly as we’d rowed out, his demons reattached to him.
When we approached the shore, I saw Dylan sitting on the ledge I liked to occupy. He gave us a wave, and only a couple of minutes later, we docked. Cael jumped out of the boat first, then yanked it all the way in so we were back on the stone-laced sand.
I went to climb out, only to feel Cael’s hand fasten tightly around mine. “Can I?” he asked distantly and slid his hands to my waist when I nodded. He carried me from the boat, then placed me softly on the shore. The way he cared for me physically was in direct opposition to the way he was speaking to me. He caught my concerned stare for a couple of seconds, opening his mouth like he might say something, explain, but he then left for the hostel without another word. I watched him walk away, heart in my throat.
“Hey, Sav,” Dylan said, jumping down from the edge of the ledge to head my way. I was still staring after Cael. Dylan followed my gaze. “Went rowing?”
I nodded, not wanting to share anything from the past hour. I didn’t know why, but our time in the boat felt like it was personal, just mine and Cael’s. I’d seen a glimpse of another side to him. He’d … he’d shown me the broken boy beneath the anger, had lowered his shield of fire.
I wanted to help him.
“Seems like a tough guy to get to know,” Dylan said, pointing to the door Cael had just walked through. “Can be pretty scary at times.”
I looked to my friend. “I don’t believe he’s dangerous. He’s …” I sighed, still feeling confused. “He’s hurting,” I said and heard the defensive tone in my own voice. I understood that he seemed aggressive and unapproachable—he even did to me. But the way he had been on the boat … so quiet, defeated … it was obvious he was in so much agony it felt visceral.
“I know,” Dylan said, a hint of guilt in his voice. He shuffled his feet. “Travis said Cael played hockey.” I knew that. But Dylan said, “Like, high level hockey. As in, he was about to go pro, or at least he could have. At the very least he’d have been going to college to play, then on to the NHL. Played Junior Hockey for Team USA. He was their superstar.” Pieces of Cael’s scattered jigsaw began to fit together.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.