day."
"This isn't a game." He swallows hard. "I do need to tell you something. I have to tell you something. I just don't know how to."
I've known Caleb Foster my entire life. I know the instant when something is wrong. A sudden darkness has overtaken his face. It's not just the lighting in this dim and musty stairwell.
"Row." His jaw tightens. "I'm sorry, Rowan. I can't believe I have to tell you this."
"Tell me what?" I grab onto the lapel of his suit jacket. "Just tell me. You're scaring me now."
His hands clench at his sides. His lips move faintly but nothing comes out.
"Caleb, tell me."
He cups his fingers around my chin and looks directly into my eyes. "Promise me you'll still be my friend when I tell you. Promise me you won't stop talking to me."
"I promise," I whisper softly. "I'll always be your friend."
"You're the only person I can tell this to. You're the only person who'll understand," he starts before he pauses to draw in a deep breath.
I feel my face heating. I know that the words that he's about to say to me are going to impact me deeply. I see it in his expression and I feel it in his touch. I don't like being this close to him. I've learned skillfully how to avoid being alone with him. He makes me feel things I don't want to acknowledge. I may be able to convince him that he's just a good friend when we're sitting in a room filled with others, or when there's a desk between us. When we're like this, alone, without the welcome barrier of other people or things, I feel vulnerable and exposed.
I lick my bottom lip. I want to say something that will coax the truth out of him. The tone of his voice gave absolutely nothing away when he called me earlier. He didn't sound panicked. There was no urgency woven into his words. He simply and directly told me he needed me and I came. I always come when Caleb needs me and he's never failed to race to me if I need him.
His brow furrows slightly as he stares at my lips. His own tongue darts out and for the briefest of moments I wonder if he's about to lean down to swipe his full lips over mine. He shakes his head slightly before he tips his head back to look at the grey painted ceiling of the stairwell.
"Just tell me," I whisper. "What is it? Did you do something?"
"I was pushed into a corner," he pauses as his hand drops to his side. "He didn't leave me a choice."
My eyes fall to the floor. I brace myself for what I know is coming next. I don't know why I didn't see the freight train that is Caleb's completely dysfunctional family barreling down the track right towards me. The brothers haven't gotten into an argument in weeks. That's what this is about. It has to be. "It's Asher, isn't it? Is he alright?"
"He's fine," he says through a heavy sigh. "Give me a minute to explain and I'll…"
My stomach twists into a tight knot as I brush past him to reach for the handrail. "What happened? What did you do to him? Is he at the office?"
"Don't go." He gestures towards the concrete stairs. "We need to talk about this. I need you to understand what he did."
"You know how hard it's been for him." I spit out the words. "What if he starts using again? He's been clean for almost six months. "
"I'm not responsible for his choices." He tugs at my elbow. "It's his own fault that he was arrested."
"He was arrested?" I turn so quickly on my heel that I have to reach for his arm to find my balance. "When was he arrested?"
"It was right before noon at the corporate office." His jaw tightens. "We didn't have a choice. He was out of control."
"No." I push against his hands but his grasp doesn't lessen at all. "You didn't do that to him. Tell me you didn't have your brother arrested."
"Technically I wasn't the one who made the call to the police," he points out. "My assistant did it."
"Don't do that." I stomp my foot against the concrete floor in exasperation. "Don't divert. Why would you do something like that? We're supposed to be helping him."
"I have gone out of my way to help him." His hand flexes as he grips the handrail. "I've