by K. Ryan
"Hey, Isabelle!" Lexie's grin just grew wider as she spoke, her tiny pregnant belly ever so slightly protruding out in front of her. "It's so great to see you. It's been, what, four years?"
I barely had a chance to register her words when Lexie reached up and enveloped me in a quick embrace. Although the hug was over just as quickly as it started, it still shocked the hell out of me. But then again, out of everyone connected to the Horsemen, Lexie had always been the one who seemed the most normal, for lack of a better word.
She was consistently unfazed by the world her soon-to-be husband lived in and if anything, seemed annoyed by it more often than not. Here I'd always thought that the women who hung around the Horsemen were the type that liked the danger, the violence, the sex, the rush, and everything else that went with it, Ariel included.
Lexie, however, just seemed to tolerate it because she loved Dominic.
"Hi," I replied with a grin. "It's really good to see you, too."
And it really was. Especially now, here in the clubhouse, where I felt like such an outsider, and already been abandoned by Becca. For all of Becca's grandstanding about how I needed to let loose and have some fun, horniness sure trumped solidarity any day of the week.
"How's it going at the shop so far? Those guys treating you alright over there?" Lexie asked.
I just shrugged and nodded gratefully to the guy behind the bar when he slid me a vodka and soda. "Ah, things are going pretty well actually. I'm liking it so far."
Lexie nodded emphatically. "Good, I'm glad to hear it. I'm sure having to be around all those greasy, smelly guys isn't exactly ideal."
I grinned back at Lexie and batted a hand in the air. "Nah, they've all been pretty nice actually. Can't say I wasn't surprised, but..."
As a familiar blonde head weaved in and out through the leather cuts and scantily-clad women, those words died in my throat. Even though I was on the opposite side of the clubhouse, Caleb's stringy, greasy hair and the way he staggered unsteadily on his feet all pointed to signs that the show was about to start.
The second I got a good look at his face, any wayward feelings of annoyance at this situation dissipated. Gone was the cocky, confident, swaggering young prince of the clubhouse and in his place was a broken, shattered man, finally resurfacing from three days of self-imposed exile. He looked so haggard, older somehow too, and just like that day back in fifth grade when Principal Moreland called him out of class, I felt my heart free-fall into my stomach.
"Shit," Dominic exhaled.
"Jesus..." Lexie muttered under her breath, her eyes sweeping worriedly from Caleb to Dominic and back to Caleb.
"What the hell is he doin' out here?" Dominic said, his voice barely audible above the blaring music. "He's just gonna make shit worse for himself, being out here."
The expression on Caleb's face was one I knew well. Even from the distance between us, the bags underneath Caleb's eyes told me he hadn't slept in days. The way his eyelids drooped down into his eyelashes meant he would be having some serious problems standing upright pretty soon and the half-empty bottle of Jack dangling from his fingertips made my eyes narrow.
Yeah, this was an image I was familiar with.
"Dom," Lexie was pleading now. "Maybe you should try to talk to him before he does something stupid."
"I can't imagine anything I have to say will change his mind," Dominic cut in quietly.
"Just try, Dom," Lexie pleaded a little more forcefully this time.
He turned towards both of us with his lips set in a firm, grim line. I swallowed nervously as Dominic and Lexie seemed to be engaging in some sort of telepathic communication, feeling like I was intruding on a moment meant to be shared just between the two of them.
A few moments later, Dominic stalked over to the other side of the clubhouse with long, purposeful strides. The entire exchange seemed to happen in slow motion as Dominic tried in vain to grab him by the shoulders, but Caleb just kept shrugging him off, wrapping his free arm around some dark-haired girl that snuck up to his side instead of acknowledging his best friend.
It was hard not to watch this in between my fingers—I knew exactly what was going to happen next, especially since this train was already on its collision course. All that remained was the inevitable crash.
When Dominic tried yet again to force Caleb's attention, all he got was the same, nonchalant response. Finally, with defeat mirrored in his eyes and a frustrated downward sweep of his hands, his head swayed from side to side as he stepped around the crowd and moved back to the bar. The confrontation had gone exactly like I thought it would, but part of me still held out hope that Caleb would listen.
My eyes widened when Caleb wasted no time in escorting the tiny brunette bimbo glued to his side down the hallway and presumably to a more private room.
As his blonde head evaporated into the hallway, I tore my eyes away and back to Lexie's troubled face. Lexie tried to make some friendly small talk after that, and God bless her for it, but my thoughts were still swimming somewhere in that dark hallway. Whatever Caleb was doing in there was his own business. I just couldn't shake the feeling that someone was standing on top of my shoulders, cementing me into the floor below.
I was frozen, held underwater, and strangled for air. Everything seemed to buzz around me in a haze. My heart thundered in my chest and I knew exactly what this was, exactly what had me rooted to this sticky floor with dread.
That ashen, gaunt look on Caleb's face was one I'd seen reflected in the mirror for months after my mom died. Seeing that twin emotion riddled all over his face was like reliving the devastation, the shock, and the emptiness all over again. Even though the loss was something that would never go away, normal functionality was slowing becoming more of a daily reality, or, at least that's what I had to tell myself.
The same, however, could not be said for my dad and that probably had everything to do with why I couldn't move now.
Grief wasn't something you could just get over and everything would magically go back the way it used to be. No amount of self-help books, grief counseling, or therapy could speed the process any faster, but at some point, I think my mind was just ready to let go and to find that normalcy again.
Eventually, little by little, the emptiness didn't hurt as much. It just lingered like a dull ache that showed up every once and awhile to nag at me. That wasn't the case for my dad. He was still stuck in reverse and he was still drowning.
When I looked at Caleb now, I saw the same heaviness that lingered in my dad's eyes and that scared the crap out of me. His eyes held the same haunted, tormented, and tired expression of a man that barely made it from one day to the next. Was that Caleb's fate? Was he headed down the same black highway as my dad?
I shook myself out from underwater and forced myself to swim back up to the surface. I was trying to be a different person, trying to be my own person.
It wasn't like I was Caleb's keeper or could even call myself a friend, so why did any of this even matter? Besides, Becca would kill me if I spent the entire party standing at the bar, staring at an empty hallway.
Still, when my phone buzzed in my pocket a little after one, I was overwhelmingly grateful, which was an abnormal feeling at best. All I had to do was hold my phone up and Becca nodded to the door, knowing me well enough to understand I wasn't accepting any help tonight, or any night for that matter. The idea of Becca, or anyone else, seeing what I saw every night made my stomach roll.
So without another word, or another thought to the darkness mirrored in Caleb's cobalt eyes, I left the clubhouse to go help the person I was actually responsible for.
. . .
Once I heard soft snores from inside my dad's bedroom, I tiptoed to my own room and shut the door behind me. Sleep was probably going to be an impossible feat tonight and I tossed and turned, eventually throwing the covers completely off me as I willed myself to shake the image of Caleb's empty eyes out of my head.
It just wouldn't leave. I wonde
red if it would ever leave.
Nothing else would work, not reading on my iPad, watching TV, or even listening to music, and finally, I slid out of bed to pad nervously over to my closet. Reaching up to my tiptoes, my fingers grazed the long-forgotten box on the highest, dustiest shelf.
It was telling that I knew exactly where to find it...like some sort of divine intervention. Like it was the universe's way of telling me this was the way it had to be whether I liked it or not.
At least maybe I'd be able to get some sleep tonight once it was all said and done.
When my sketchbook lay open on my lap, my fingers itched to sift through the worn, smudged pages, but I brushed that nagging aside. It wouldn't be any different than slicing through a wound that finally scabbed over and I didn't feel like putting myself through that, especially not at three in the morning.
Maybe some other night.
With a sharp inhale and trembling fingers, the pencil began to dance around the blank page, almost as if it had a life of its own. My fingers angled and curved until I got the shading just right and then I brushed a feather-light touch down an edge to finish the line.
Almost an hour passed, but I barely noticed. I'd forgotten how easily I could be swept away in a sketch, just lost in my own little world where everything else around me just faded away.
Since leaving my childhood bedroom behind for a college dorm, this sketchbook was tucked away on my shelf, out of sight, but not completely out of mind. Law school called for maturity, focus, and drive in order to succeed, which left no time for doodling in a notebook, at least that was what my dad had told me every time he caught me sketching.
God, I'd missed this.
And I knew I'd never get to sleep tonight if I didn't exorcise this demon out of my mind. It was as if something just tugged me to that box in the closet.
Now that the image of Caleb's empty eyes stared back at me on the page and the demon was put decidedly in its place, a calm flowed through me, something I hadn't felt in far too long. Now that it was back, I doubted I'd be able to just toss it aside like I had before leaving for Duke.
And it was that thought that propelled me back into bed and sleeping soundly with the haunting image of hollow navy-blue eyes tucked safely away and out of my dreams.
Something good had come from this night. I'd let loose, not in the way Becca had planned, but it was something...a rediscovery of what I'd buried, of what I'd forced myself to tuck away high on a dusty shelf.
Gone, but not completely forgotten.
It was a start.
CHAPTER NINE
Word Vomit
Isabelle
On Monday, I felt like I was sleep-walking through my shift. Part of me wondered if last Friday night was all just a figment of my imagination. Then again, I had the proof in my sketchbook, carefully hidden away inside my over-sized purse.
Skyler was already shuffling around the office when I reported for duty and when my boss wordlessly handed over a thick folder of invoices, the workload was a welcome relief. Distraction, in any form, was absolutely imperative today. As I slid into the chair directly across from Skyler, a quick survey through the open blinds told me the shop was still mostly empty.
Mondays typically tended to be slower business days, so the number of mechanics on hand would be few and far between, even though Skyler purposefully scheduled Mondays light so the staff always had a little recovery time from a weekend of partying. I knew that because Skyler, having judged me ready and able to take on more responsibility, had let me help make the schedule for the week.
The rest of the morning passed by without much of a hitch, a few customers here and there, but for the most part, I dove into the paperwork, letting my brain flip the switch it needed to forget everything else.
It wasn't until around noon that a nagging twitch settled into my chest. I was nervous. Anxious. And the cause of said anxiousness materialized from the clubhouse and jogged through the parking lot until he skidded into the garage.
Caleb was running late.
It wasn't so much that I was nervous about seeing him specifically. It had more to do with my anxiousness about how this first shift after Hurricane Ariel would fare for him and everyone around him.
A loud exhale behind me made me jump in my seat and my head curved to the side to see Skyler hovering over the desk, watching every move Caleb made with narrowed dark eyes, her hands fisted into her hips.
"Well," Skyler muttered under her breath. "Look what the cat dragged in."
Frustration, worry, with just a hint of disappointment, too, enveloped Skyler's already scratchy voice and it was hard not to feel the same way. Seeing Caleb's head-first downward spiral into oblivion was not something I had taken lightly and the evidence practically burned a hole through my purse.
"At least he looks a little better," I offered weakly. "I think he showered."
Skyler chuckled. "Well, I suppose that is an improvement."
The smile I tried to press to my face wouldn't quite stick. Making light of our mutual concern just didn't feel right.
"He's been scaring the hell out of me," Skyler murmured now. "I'm not sure what else to do. Everything I say, whatever I do, he just slams the door in my face."
Skyler hesitated for a moment, like she was trying to put her thoughts together, her eyes still trained on her son.
"It's not so much the women," she continued softly. "That comes with the territory. It's the drinking that scares me."
I nodded and whispered, "I've seen worse."
It wasn't a lie for Skyler's benefit. Caleb was well on the path to self-destruction, but he was only a couple miles in. My dad, on the other hand, had a few thousand miles on him.
Skyler eyes flicked over to me and for a moment, I wondered if Skyler had forgotten I was even in the office. But then, as clear understanding swept over her face, Skyler's eyes clouded in sympathy—which was unfortunate because that wasn't really what I was going for.
"If things ever get bad," Skyler offered quietly. "You know, with your dad, we'll help you anyway we can. You know that, right?"
I blinked back, my mouth opening slightly as the weight of Skyler's words echoed around me. It was way too early in the morning for such a heavy conversation.
"Now, I know you haven't been workin' here all that long," Skyler went on, striding up closer as she spoke. "But we're a loyal breed, you know? We don't let one of our own fall by the wayside if we can help it. You've been a terrific employee and you're a good girl. If you need something, all you gotta do is ask."
As much as I wanted to feel grateful for that promise, it was hard to feel anything but the way I always felt whenever anyone regarded with me even a minuscule dose of pity: bitter. That wasn't Skyler's fault. It was just nature taking its course.
So instead of saying thank you, all I could do was swallow the lump of bitter-tasting anxiety and nod.
"Well," Skyler sighed, her eyes quickly finding Caleb's blonde head. "At least he's got something to keep him occupied today."
My gaze ventured out into the garage and found Caleb hunched underneath the hood of a beat-up Mercury Sable. Even from where I stood, sleep deprivation and hangovers were written all over him. The bloodshot eyes, hanging head, clenched shoulders—all postmarked signs I knew well.
"I think it's a good thing he's even here today after..." I trailed off, knowing I didn't need to rehash those particular details with his mom. "I mean, he's here. He's working. That's gotta mean something, right?"
A glimmer of a smile crept across Skyler's face and she nodded. I almost jumped when I felt a hand ghost over my shoulder.
"Thanks, Isabelle," Skyler grinned. "Have I told you yet today how glad I am I hired you?"
"Not yet," I shrugged.
"Well, in that case, I think maybe you should get back to the morning paperwork then."
An echo of laughter bounced off the office walls as I took off for the desk and Skyler swatted me lightly on the shoulder. I was still
smiling to myself when I sat down in my chair and got to work on the mountain of invoices my boss had so generously left for me. For the most part, this place was really starting to feel like it could be somewhere I belonged, somewhere that made sense, even if it wasn't long-term.
Years ago, just the very idea of going to the Horsemen for anything would've made me balk. But now, if push came to shove, it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that I might actually have to take Skyler up on her offer. And as much as the thought almost paralyzed me, I knew that Skyler also hadn't been exaggerating before. I'd been around the club matriarch long enough at this point to know she never said or did anything without a reason and she definitely wouldn't offer up the Horsemen's services if she wouldn't really deliver the goods.
The next hour seemed to fly by as a steady stream of customers made their way in and out of the office. Because of that, there wasn't much down time to even really glance out of the office window, let alone really observe what was happening outside it.
That was probably for the best though—what Caleb was going through was none of my business. Curiosity or no, I didn't really want to immerse myself too deeply in the revolving door of drama that always seemed to follow the Horsemen wherever they parked their Harleys.
So when I headed out towards the picnic tables for my break, the last thing I expected to see was Caleb sitting at my normal break table. My feet halted in the pavement, feeling stuck with indecision. But in the split second it took me to begin weighing the pros and cons of high-tailing it back into the office, Caleb's somber, haunted eyes flicked up from the spot on the table he'd been searing a hole into.
I couldn't move if I tried—his cold blue eyes held me right where I stood. And then the choice was simple. There really wasn't any other choice to make.
