Caelin (Heaven Hill Shorts Book 1)

by Laramie Briscoe

  “Addie, you here?”

  “In the office,” she yells.

  I give it to her, her first response wasn’t to chew my ass about not being in school. So we’ll see how this goes. I enter the office cautiously. She and Wild got married two weeks ago. After this whole Steele thing, they decided they didn’t want to wait. They’re newlyweds who have been caught no less than five times in the last fourteen days getting busy where they fuckin’ shouldn’t be.

  “You can come in,” she laughs. “Wild’s at the shop.”

  “Thank fuck, I never wanna see his bare ass again,” I give her a grin as I plop down in the seat across from the desk. “What are you up to?”

  “Seeing what donations we have this month, and calling if we need more. You know my cheerful personality gets us stuff all the time,” she bats her eyelashes and smiles widely, showing her perfect smile.

  We both had braces and it fucking sucked.

  “Why aren’t you in school?”

  There it is.

  “Didn’t feel up to it today,” I shrug.

  “You never feel up to it, baby bro. Shit’s going on inside that head of yours and you need to talk to someone about it.”

  “That’s what I have you for,” I tease her, knowing she’ll rise to my bait.

  “I’m not qualified for that fucked up mess you carry around,” she points to my head. “Even though you do have the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen on a man, and I’m wildly jealous of it.”

  “Then what do you think I should do?”

  I'm half-teasing, but at the same time, I do wonder what my big sister would do. She's come through the other side of many things in her life. I respect the hell out of her, even if we do argue half the time.

  “Doc Jones would love to hear from you, you know she hates that she’s had to move to that home.”

  The smile slowly disappears from my face. For years, Doc Jones lived with us, until she broke her hip about six months ago. She had trouble with the surgery, and now she’s made the decision to stay there indefinitely. Her mind is still sharp, but her body – it’s failing her. I hate seeing her in that place, even if I do know many of us will end up there before we’re done with our time on this earth.

  “I know, I just hate seeing her there.”

  “And I hate seeing you without the spark in your eyes, but here we are. She can help you; she’s the only one who can. Don’t look that gift horse in the mouth, Caelin. Go visit her, and get your head put on straight. I know you’re texting with Justice. Don’t be giving her advice you won’t fucking follow yourself,” she moves her head back and forth, an eyebrow raised with all the attitude she can muster.

  "Shut up," I throw a piece of crumpled up paper at her.

  She ducks, throwing another one back at me. We have a little war until we stop, laughing together.

  “I love you Caelin; get your shit together.”

  “Love you too, sis,” I get up, going over to give her a hug.

  Years ago, I outgrew her, and even though she’s shorter and smaller than me, I still feel good and safe wrapped in her arms.

  “Gonna get out of here,” I tell her as I grab my sunglasses.

  “Tell Doc Jones I said hi!”

  I flip her off as I leave, feeling better than I have in a long time.

  Chapter Three

  Homes like this always have a sickly smell, even if everyone I know tells me it’s not a nursing home, it’s a retirement home. There’s still the ever-present knowledge that everyone here is on the downward slide of life. They don’t have infinite time left, and maybe that’s what bothers me the most about Doc Jones being here. She’s always been such a force in my life, an ever-present stabilization, one I never had to wonder about being there. There was never a doubt Doc Jones would be. But now, I’m not so sure.

  I stop at the front desk, signing in like we’re required to do. That’s also something that pisses me off about almost having to ask permission to see her. I never had to do that when she lived with us. Her bedroom door was either open or it wasn’t. She made that decision.

  “Go on back,” the receptionist tells me.

  Walking in here is like walking into another time, one none of us are looking forward to. Most of these people are still spry, they can still do many things on their own, they’re just scared of being home alone. It makes me think of Steele and Christine. I robbed them of this.

  No. He robbed them of this, but it’s so hard to wrap my head around it. So hard to let go of the self-loathing and the hatred, even if I do know it’s warranted. I get to her room, knocking softly before I hear her voice.

  “Come in, Caelin.’

  She’s sitting with her back to the door, looking out over the garden. We made sure when she decided to move here, she had a good view. I’m pretty sure Dad came in here and scared every single person that works here to get it, but he gave zero fucks, and neither did we.

  “How’d you know it was me?” I walk in, holding the bouquet of flowers I got her. When she turns around, she’ll have a surprise. She loves surprises.

  “Nobody knocks like you,” she snickers. “They announce visitors.”

  “I forgot that about this place,” I have a seat on her bed, because I’m too big for the chairs. They’re made for older, frail people. Both my dad and I have broken one a piece. We learned quick.

  She turns in her wheelchair. God I hate seeing her in that contraption. “They’re beautiful,” she smiles, looking at the flowers I’ve set down beside me.

  “I’ll put them in water for you.”

  “Caelin, I can do it. Just takes me a little longer. Besides I’m sure you didn’t come here just to give me flowers.”

  “How do you always know what people are going through?” I question.

  “Most people are asking that of your dad, but I’d be lying if I told you I haven’t spoken to several members of the club in the last month and a half.”

  That at least makes me feel better, knowing I’m not the only person struggling. I don’t know what that says about me, that it makes me feel better, but it’s the truth. Right now truth for me, is very hard to come by.

  As she’s putting her flowers into water, I walk over, shutting her door.

  “It’s one of those talks huh?”

  “Yeah,” I sit down on the bed again, letting my head fall forward, before I scrub my face with my hands. “It’s one of those talks.”

  “That’s what I’m here for, Caelin. The happiest moments of my life have been helping you and your family through the hardest of theirs.”

  Somehow, I know she’s not feeding me a line. It’s the honest truth, and fuck if it doesn’t make me feel better on some sort of level it shouldn’t. She rolls back over, facing me.

  “Talk to me, Caelin. There is zero judgment here, in this room I help you come to terms with your past and show you it’s possible to live in the future. No matter what you’ve done.”

  For a long time I sit there, not saying anything. She doesn’t press, doesn’t question, and doesn’t fidget like she’s sick of waiting on me. Tears come to my eyes, they fall down my cheeks, the heaviness in my chest increases, almost to the point where it’s ready to suffocate me, but it doesn’t. Just when I think I’m about to have to ask for medical help, the feeling lets up, loosens and breaks free. My throat opens up enough so that I can let words flow, and for the first time I utter these words out loud to someone.

  “I shot Travis Steele. He died by my hand.”

  And that opens up the floodgates. For the first time I purge every single emotion from my body. Anger at him for forcing me to do it, and guilt for taking a life. It all comes out in body-wracking sobs and shudders. Doc Jones wheels over to me, putting her hand on my knee, squeezing, and then she opens her arms. I fall into them like I have so many times before.

  This time I worry I've hurt her because I'm so much bigger now, but she doesn't protest, she holds my broken spirit, putting the parts back togethe
r again. It's dark when I'm done. I don't see sunlight outside anymore, the garden isn't visible, and I wonder how long I've been there.

  “I should go,” I wipe underneath my eyes.

  “No you shouldn’t,” she argues. “Now is the best time for you talk about what’s happened. You’ve come this far, Caelin. Let’s get it out. How do you feel?”

  I search for the vocabulary to put it into words. For long moments, I wonder if I’m even equipped to do so. Then it all comes out, tumbling from me like word vomit.

  “How do I feel? On one hand I feel like a piece of shit because Travis was a friend,” I get up, walking around the room, putting my hands in my hair. “He was a friend, Doc Jones. He taught me a lot of the shit I know. I went on rides with him, looked up to him, and Christine? She gave me my first haircut when I was a kid. She’s the only one I trust with my hair, and I know that sounds fucking conceited, but I trust her. And she trusted me,” I stop pacing. “She trusted me and I killed her husband.”

  Doc Jones stops me with a question.

  “Why did you kill her husband?”

  I give her a look that screams the duh I’m feeling. “He kidnapped Justice, who had nothing to do with this shit. He was going to hurt Drew, someone had to stop him. Who knows who else he would have hurt. The biggest fear I had was him taking all of us out and then heading for our families.

  She softly speaks to me. “What you just described to me, isn’t someone who killed another human in cold blood. They were a hero, they saved Justice and who knows how many more. What would you say if someone had saved a kidnapped child, even if they had to kill the kidnapper?”

  “A hero,” I answer without any hesitation.

  “You’ve just described yourself. Let that sink in for a minute. Take yourself out of the equation and understand what you just said. You’re a hero.”

  “I don’t feel like one.”

  "We never give ourselves the benefit of the doubt because it's human nature. You have to do proper affirmations. Remind yourself daily you are a hero. Every day won't be easy and there will be times when you struggle. You may even fail, but that doesn't make your life a failure, Caelin. It means it’s a bad day.”

  I look over at her, my eyes concentrate completely on her. “Doc Jones?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What do you see when you look at me? Truthfully. Don’t feed me bullshit. How do you see me?”

  She smiles wistfully. “I see the little kid who used to climb up in my lap for a story. The one who would put pink fingernail polish in his hair the minute I’d turn my back. I remember the young man who worried about his sister when she and your parents were at odds. But right now, I see someone who’s very confused, which is normal. You’re still there, but you’re hovering between an adult and the teenager you’re supposed to be. You’re finding yourself and that’s okay. You don’t have to have all the answers right now,” she smooths her skirt over her lap. “Even at my age I don’t have all the answers.”

  “No way,” I play along. “You have every answer I’ve ever asked you for.”

  “Then I must be a genius, or I must love you very much to find out the answers for you.”

  "I love you too, Doc," I walk over, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. "I think it's time for me to go to the clubhouse. I'm sure B wants my ass on a platter, I used her name to get me out of school today."

  “You should apologize.”

  “She doesn’t like flowers like you do.”

  Doc Jones laughs. “She’s tougher than I am. Good luck.”

  "Thanks," I hug her before putting the jacket I've shed back on. "I'll see you soon."

  “I’m counting on it. Remember, you are a hero, and if you wonder exactly what you are, ask Justice. She’s the only one whose opinion really matters.”

  I think about what she’s said, and she’s right. Justice was the one in danger. Maybe I should talk to her. We’ve been texting back and forth, but talking to her wouldn’t be bad.

  “I will.”

  And unlike all the other times I’ve agreed to do things that are supposed to help me. This time I actually mean it.

  Chapter Four

  “Caelin Blackfoot, I’m going to suspend the fuck outta you!”

  Those words are my greeting as I enter the clubhouse. Bianca Stone, better known as B to anyone who knows her, means business, and I’m kinda worried. “I’m sorry! I had to leave, school was closing in on me, I had to get my head on straight,” I try to explain.

  “Instead of explaining to her, you might want to explain to us,” that voice is my dad, and fuck if I’m not kind of shaking in my damn boots. Mom stands beside him, and I feel like I’m looking down the barrel of a loaded gun.

  “Can we talk?” I question the two of them.

  I try to ignore the way the clubhouse has gotten quiet, the way everyone is acting like they aren’t watching, but are totally watching. I don’t want to play this out in front of an audience, but I know sometimes we have to do what we have to do.

  “I talked to Doc Jones,” I blurt out.

  “Let’s go to your dorm,” Dad points to the row of doors that lead to dorm rooms. Even though I’m not an official member yet, I have one, dad freely gave his up when he handed over his VP patch. It’s weird, because the one I have used to be his. I can remember staying there when I was little. I haven’t done much to it, but eventually I will.

  The three of us walk back, in a straight line. Typically with my family there’s pushing, shoving, laughing and generally just being jerks to one another. Today there’s none of that, and it worries me. After we enter, we all stand around like idiots, afraid to speak.

  “I hate this,” I break the silence. “No one knows how to act around me anymore, and I don’t know how to act.”

  Mom has a seat on the bed. “You’ve been through trauma, Caelin. If anyone understands, it’s me. I’ve been giving you the space to come to grips with what’s happened, but maybe that wasn’t the best thing to do for you.”

  “What do you mean you’ve been through trauma? And you understand where I’m coming from?”

  “We both do,” Dad has a seat next to her. “Maybe it’s time to tell you how we got together. Addie knows, but it’s because she’s so heavily involved with CRISIS.”

  “And I never wanted you to look at me differently,” Mom finishes, a sheen of moisture in her eyes.

  I know without a doubt I have to sit down for this. Whatever they’re going to tell me won’t be easy to take. I plop down in the chair, even though it’s small and makes me knees come up to my chest. “Today has been a day of revelations, so lay it on me.”

  It’s kind of flippant the way I say it, and I can see my mom flinch. I never meant for it to come out that way, but before I can apologize, she’s speaking.

  “I was a reporter when Tyler and I first met. I was researching Heaven Hill, hoping to catch them doing illegal things around the Bowling Green area. In my head, if I caught them, and I broke the story, I’d be a highly sought-after reporter. It was my dream, at the time, to work for some big place like MSN or CNN. I wanted to be the person that people came to for breaking news,” she stops for a second, grabbing dad’s hand. “In hindsight, it was stupid.”

  “They say it’s twenty-twenty,” I remind her.

  “In this case, it really was. I had an informant and one night he asked me to meet him under the bridge downtown. We’d met there before, if I remember correctly, but there was something different about it this time,” she reaches over, grabbing Dad’s hand. “I was attacked and raped, left there,” she finishes, tears falling down her cheeks.

  “I found her,” Dad picks up the story. “She fought me, thinking I was involved, but I got her here,” he looks around the dorm. “Brought Ashley out, and had her looked at.”

  “Yeah, the consensus was, I was pretty okay physically, the wounds would heal,” she takes over the story again. “But the mental wounds, those took much longer. He found Doc Jones
for me, and we both went to sessions with her. I did everything she told me to do and eventually, I started to feel better.”

  “But me,” Dad grimaces. “I wanted revenge. Had to have it. I looked for him for a long time, even though I didn’t know who he was, or even what he looked like. For me, he was every nameless and faceless man I passed on the street. It was when we were at Jagger’s concert one night though,” he rubs his face. “At Wet Wanda’s, we were outside, and a cell phone rang.”

  “He had a particular ringtone,” Mom cuts in. “A small child singing him happy birthday, his daughter. He had a daughter. He had a woman he loved enough to make a child with, and he still did what he did to me.”

  “I confronted him,” Dad continues. “I kept telling myself I could be a good guy, I didn’t have to do what was in my heart, but I couldn’t. I ended his life.”

  “Not in front of me, but he did tell me.”

  My brain is spinning as I listen to the story they’re telling me. My whole life I’ve had one vision of my parents and now it’s turning into something I’m unsure of. “Did you ever look at him differently?” I ask the question I’m dying to know the answer to.

  “No,” she shakes her head. “He was my hero. I never had to live in fear anymore. I mean you don’t understand what it was like. I freaked out at Walmart because someone was wearing a hoodie and it was Halloween. I lived in complete terror. As bad as it sounds, I was glad to know he was gone.”

  "And how did you feel?" I look at my dad.

  “Guilty, but at the end of the day, I knew I’d taken a bad person off the streets and he’d never be able to hurt anyone anymore. People like that Caelin, they don’t rehabilitate, they don’t get better and find God. They stay evil. Once you get a taste of power, you don’t come back from it.”

  “Is that what you think happened with Travis?”

  “Power affects people differently, some get drunk with it. Others can deal with it. It just depends on what type of a personality you have. There were moments where I could see the person he had turned into, and I refused to believe it, because he was Steele.”