Could he have asked for help from someone else? Yes. Did he? No.
Instead, I lost control.
Took a bite.
A bite that changed the course of his life. A fatal bite that forced him to leave the small town he’d grown up in, abandoning his family and deserting the one girl—
He punched himself in the leg, the hard blow veering his attention because he was not going there. For years he’d forced himself to not allow thoughts of her.
Don’t start now. Renny is better off without me.
Chances were she’d gone on with her life. Settled down with someone. Someone who could treat her right and make her happy.
Who made that growling sound? Apparently it wasn’t just the croc in his mind rising from his mental prison to snap its teeth that had a problem with Renny being with someone else.
Time hadn’t diminished some things, such as his jealousy issues. He’d always had a she’s-mine problem where Renny was concerned. Prettiest girl he’d ever seen and she’d chosen him.
But they couldn’t tell anyone about it, not with her dad crazier than batshit, especially after a drinking binge, and his ma determined that he go to college and make something of himself instead of “Settling down too young and missing out on life.”
At the time, all the reasons not to be together had made them only more determined.
Nothing better than sneaking out to her place and giving her a hand—on account he was such a gentleman—so she could climb out the window. The memory of those hours they spent under the starlight still had the power to arouse.
People often resorted to pills or toys or weird fantasies to bring excitement to sex, but Caleb still thought the hottest kind of fuck was the type where you were afraid of getting caught by someone’s father. A man who kept a loaded shotgun by the door.
The tame sex he’d enjoyed later on, in a bed, just never could compare.
Or was it because no one could compare to Renny?
Don’t go there. He gave himself a mental slap, and yet, no matter how many times he told himself to forget Renny, his thoughts always seemed to stray back.
The truck rolled to a stop, the crunch of gravel louder for a moment than the singing of the frogs and crickets.
Shit, I’m home.
For a moment, his breathing quickened, his pulse raced, and it wasn’t the humidity that dampened his skin.
Don’t panic. Breathe, dammit. Breathe.
Spots danced in front of his eyes, and he felt himself losing his grip. The croc swam to the surface, veering for the weakness and looking to escape.
No. I mustn’t lose control.
Stupid anxiety attack. He’d hoped he was done with those. It had been weeks since his last good one.
This simmering bout proved all wasn’t well yet in his mental landscape. But he could handle it. The doctor in Kodiak Point had taught him tricks to calm himself. And when all else failed, there were the heavy-duty pills.
But he couldn’t just pop a few blue sleeping agents and drop off into a coma for a few hours. He needed to man up.
Step one. Take a deep breath.
Step two. Scratch his balls to remind himself he wasn’t a prissy fucking princess.
Step three—
“What the hell are you doing?” Constantine said, snapping him back to the here and now.
Doing? Why having a panic attack, of course, but that wasn’t something he was about to admit. “Just taking in all the changes to the place.”
And there were plenty to provide distraction. For one, they now actually had a driveway of crushed stone rather than the mud and flattened weeds he recalled. The house that had once sported weathered, gray planks and mismatched shingles was still there, but massively facelifted with white vinyl siding and a light blue metal roof.
“Are those fucking shutters?” Caleb asked in disbelief, taking in the new windows that had taken the place of the wooden-silled ones. How he’d hated those damned things. When it got truly humid they swelled so tight that they refused to open. When one did open, he’d smashed his fingers in them too many times to count because he didn’t get the block of wood wedged under it in time.
“Not just any shutters, but hurricane-grade ones,” Constantine replied, his upper body hidden within the truck. When his brother leaned back out, he had his little dog tucked under his arm.
“So that’s what you did with my paychecks?” Just because Caleb had left home didn’t mean he didn’t try and improve his mother’s lot in life and, by default, his brother’s too.
“Not exactly. Mom used the checks to put me through college.”