by K. Ryan
His words simmered and twisted, hooking themselves around me until all I could do was growl back: "Neither do you."
Even from the corner of my eye, I could still see Isabelle's dad nodding the affirmative. At least he was sober enough to admit when I was right.
"I hurt my daughter tonight," his hoarse voice sliced through the heavy air between us. "I never thought I'd ever be the kind of man that could lay hands on his own child. I lost my mind. I took everything out on her and...I didn't even know I was doing it. I made her suffer because of my shortcomings, because of my failures and I'll never forgive myself for that. I don't expect her to either."
He paused after that and when I finally allowed myself to turn his way, he was staring out the passenger side window with his shaking hands folded into a white-knuckled knot on his lap.
"I know I've forfeited the right to be part of her life now and that I don't deserve to have any say in anything she does anymore," he went on, his voice growing firmer with each syllable. "But at the end of the day, I'm still her father, and so I'm going to say this anyways: I want you to stay the hell away from my daughter."
My shoulders shook with humorless laughter and my eyes flicked to the car's ceiling.
"I would say with all due respect, but seein' as how I don't have any respect for you, I'll just say this," I kept my focus firmly in front of me because if I let myself look at him now, the results wouldn't be pretty for either of us. "I get why you wouldn't want her anywhere near me, but you need to understand that I care about your daughter more than I care about myself. And I'm well aware I haven't done anything in my life to justify getting to have someone like her, but just so you know, I'm a better man when she's around. She makes me better just by standing next to me. And I would rather cut off my own arm than hurt her, which is a helluva lot more than I can say for you."
And I'm pretty sure I'm in love with her. No, I'm 100 percent sure I'm in love with her.
Because those thoughts needed to be shelved for the time being, I focused on the matter at hand, this time turning in my seat to face the man who'd just used his fists on the girl I loved.
Time to lay down the law.
"So here's what's gonna happen: you and me are gonna head into that hospital and sign all that paperwork to get your ass into rehab. Then you're gonna follow every instruction, every requirement, everything to the damned T. Maybe Isabelle will wanna see you when you're in there, maybe she won't, but that's up to her. We both know she'll reach out to you when she's ready, whenever that is, so you better pull your shit together. You better sober up and figure out how to be a father to her, if that's what she wants. If I had my way, you'd either be sittin' your ass in one of Kelly's cells at the station right now or you'd be six feet under in some hole outside of town. The only reason we're sittin' here is because this was what Isabelle wanted. This is a gift. This is mercy. So, the way I see it, you get one chance. Don't fuck it up."
Samuel Martin blinked at me. Then he blinked again. And then he nodded.
Good enough for me.
. . .
By the time I parked Isabelle's car back in my mom's driveway, exhaustion pretty much weighed down my entire body. I needed a stiff drink. And a cigarette because a hit of nicotine would feel like heaven right now.
When I pushed inside the house and threw Isabelle's keys on the counter, my mom was already sitting at the kitchen table with a mug in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She was up on her feet before I had a chance to do much else and gestured with her head for me to sit at the table while she rummaged through a cabinet to get me a mug.
"Where's Iz?"
She turned and pointed down the hallway. "Resting in your old room. Doc stopped by while you were gone. Said he didn't think she needs any stitches, so I guess that's finally some good news, huh?"
I dropped down into a chair at the table with a nod and finally blew out the breath I felt like I'd been holding since I woke up this morning. This day was always going to be rough. I'd known it the second Isabelle got that misty look in her eye when she'd mentioned her mom's birthday a few weeks ago. But in all my plans, all my provisions, and all my worries about this day, I'd still never anticipated it would be this rough.
"How did everything go?" my mom called out softly from behind me. She set a steaming mug of black coffee on the table and slid into the chair next to mine.
"About as good as could be expected," I lifted a shoulder and reached for the mug. "He pretty much called me a piece of shit. I dropped him off, made sure he signed everything he needed to sign, and then I left his ass there."
"He's always been a hypocrite, so I can't say I'm surprised," she shook her head. "Don't take any stock in what that man says, baby. He's not worth it."
She slid me a pack cigarettes and I gratefully slipped one out of the pack. We puffed away in silence and those few moments were enough to let all the emotions simmering inside me finally shove their way under the surface again.
My mom's voice broke through the quiet as she laid a hand on my arm. "How you doin' with all this?"
I blew out a hard breath and tapped my cigarette into the glass ashtray in front of us. "I don't know."
She nodded, shooting me a sad smile. "It's hard watchin' the person you love go through somethin' like that, isn't it?"
My eyes widened when her words finally grabbed hold of everything else swimming around in my mind, but my mom just laughed and gave my hand a quick squeeze.
"Come on," she chuckled and shook her head. "You really think I didn't know? Why do you think I always scheduled your breaks together, hmm? And all that will-they-or-won't-they bullshit was really startin' to get on my nerves, by the way."
Jesus, what was I supposed to say to that? I didn't even get much of a chance to react because as she tilted her head to get a better look at me, her dark eyes glimmered with something I'd seen many, many times throughout my life.
"So, I was thinking I'd ask Isabelle if she wanted to help me out with Lexie's party next Friday. How do you feel about that?"
My eyes narrowed a little. Not so much because of the question itself, but more so why she was asking it in the first place.
"I think that's a good idea. If she's feeling up to it, of course."
"Of course," she nodded. A sly grin crossed her face and I didn't like it one bit. "Yeah, I figured she could help put up decorations or help me in the kitchen. You know, with all the other old ladies."
If she was throwing out a line, I wasn't stupid enough to take the bait.
"Right," I nodded, shooting her a wary glance. I had a feeling I knew where she was going with this and I'd yet to work out if this line of questioning was good or bad for me.
"I'm glad we're on the same page because I don't think Isabelle belongs workin' clean-up duty with all the other girls like Becca and Ariel."
Ah. There it was. Shoulda known.
"You don't consider Becca an old lady?" I asked, determined to beat her at her own game. "Her and Eli have been hookin' up for awhile."
"I think the answer's in the question. Hookin' up," she made air quotes with her hands as she spoke, "doesn't mean anything and you know it. Besides, I don't trust that girl as far as I can throw her. She seems nice enough to your face, but there's just something about her that seems a little, I don't know—shifty."
"Huh."
I'd never thought about Becca like that before, but then again, whenever we were in the same room together, I was always too focused on her best friend to really give two shits about her.
"And Ariel?" she arched an eyebrow and it was clear she was enjoying this a little too much. "Never an old lady in the first place, so I don't see the need to give her any kind of status on Friday. She's weak. Always been selfish. And she walked around the clubhouse like her shit didn't stink. Someone who's got all those book smarts, but no common sense doesn't hold much value as far as I'm concerned. That's not the kind of old lady you need."
"Oh yeah?" I shot back pla
yfully. "You got someone in mind?"
"Yeah, I do, actually," she grinned back at me slyly, turning in her chair to face me. "Blonde hair. Blue eyes. About, I don't know, 5'6, maybe. Real pretty. Gorgeous."
"You mean smokin' hot," I cut in with a smirk.
"Okay, fine," she threw up her hands dramatically. "Smokin' hot. But that's not the point, baby."
"I know, Ma."
"She's strong. Resilient. Unbreakable, even. Look at what's happened in her life and you'd never even know it 'cuz she's not the kinda girl who wears her problems for everyone else to see. She's held herself together in a situation where most people would either be curled up in the fetal position or knee-deep in a bottle. You wanna know what she said to me when I told her before that you were takin' her dad to the hospital? She said she wished she could do it so that you didn't have to. That girl—she rolls with the punches and then keeps on swingin'. And she loves you unconditionally, baby. That girl is more than just an old lady for you. That girl is your partner. But I think you already knew that."
Yeah, I did know that already.
"Now, she's gonna need some help navigating through everything that comes with the club, but that's what she's got you, me, and Lexie for."
I nodded silently.
"I guess I just needed to see where your head's at before this weekend."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I frowned.
"You know exactly what I mean. You're gonna see Ariel this weekend. You know, the girl who up and left you, the girl who made you miserable, the girl who made you see the bottom of more bottles than I really wanna know about, the girl who—"
"Okay, Ma. I get it. Jesus Christ."
Hearing it all listed out loud like that hit a little too close to home. I didn't want to think about that part of my life anymore, especially since it was over long before Ariel ever split town. Man, I hadn't thought about her in—when was the last time I thought about her?
"All I'm saying, Caleb," she went on, that hard glare I hated was simmering in her eyes again, "is that you gotta make sure you know what's gonna happen when you see Ariel again. If you think, even for a second, that seeing her again might make you change your mind, you gotta figure that out now before you take things any further with Isabelle. She doesn't deserve you hurting her that way and you know it."
This wasn't something I even needed to waste a second thinking about. I'd known my answer a long time ago.
"Ma," I made sure my voice mirrored just how serious I was. "You don't have anything to worry about. I honestly haven't even thought about Ariel in—I don't even know how long. I really don't see it as making a choice because from my end, Isabelle is the only choice. She's...she's it."
"Good," she smiled. "I'm glad you finally got your head outta your ass. Because from my end, watching you with her...the way you look at her...Caleb, that's all I've ever wanted to see. She's good for you and she's gonna help you become the man I know you can be. And whether you believe it or not, I think you're good for her too. And even if you haven't spent much time thinkin' about your ex bein' back in town, I can tell you that Isabelle most definitely has."
Wow, Mom, way to rain on my parade.
I scrubbed a hand over my face and shot her an exasperated glare.
"What?" she shrugged. "If you're as serious about her as you say you are, you gotta make sure she knows how this weekend's really gonna go. Don't leave any room for interpretation. Even if you're not quite ready to have the I-love-you conversation yet, you still gotta give her something. Let her know she doesn't have to worry, alright, baby?"
That last part was a little harder to wrap my head around and just as I was trying to figure how to give Isabelle the reassurance she needed, she shuffled into the kitchen with her long hair in a messy knot on top of her head. Her face wasn't quite as flushed red as before, but the bruising around her eye was more defined now, and she was wearing an old pair of sweatpants and one of my old T-shirts.
My cigarette was in the ashtray a half a second later and I jerked my hand downwards, signaling for my mom to do the same. She obliged just as quickly, but not without that stupid, sly grin on her face.
As soon as that business was taken care of, I slid off my chair and scrambled over to her.
"Hey," she smiled. "I heard voices and thought you might be back now."
My arm wrapped around her shoulders to tuck her against me and my lips found the side of her head immediately. Even though I'd only been away from her for less than two hours, her presence was like a balm to all my raging anxieties and I instantly felt calmer, more relaxed just at the feel of her warm body pressed against me.
"Hey babe," I murmured into her hair. "You need somethin'?"
"That coffee you guys have looks pretty good."
"Coffee it is," I gestured with my head towards the kitchen. "Let's get ya some."
Just as I led her over to the counter where the still steaming pot of coffee sat, my mom's voice called out to us: "So, I think I'm gonna head over to the clubhouse tonight. Check in with Marcus, you know. Looks like you two kids have it all handled here and don't need me hangin' around you anyways."
"Yeah, Ma," I nodded, shooting her a wide grin over the top of Isabelle's head.
"You kids have fun," she called over her shoulder.
Once my mom was safely out of sight, out of mind, Isabelle turned to me with a wary glance. "Checking in, huh?"
"Yeah," I laughed and poured her a cup of coffee as I spoke. "I guess that's what the old people are callin' it these days. Oh, and just so we're clear, when my mom says she's checking in with the club Prez, she really means she's hooking up with the club Prez. Just so you know."
Isabelle laughed. "I kinda figured that, but thanks for the clarification."
"Yeah, I made peace with it a long time ago. Better than the alternative, you know?"
"I guess that's one way of looking at it."
I handed her a coffee mug with a wink. "Babe, that's the only way of lookin' at it."
She took the mug from me, which was probably too hot for her anyways, and set it back down on the counter next to me. Then I felt her warm hands wrap around my waist as she leaned deep into my chest and my arms folded around her shoulders, hugging her to me as tightly as I could.
My lips found her hair again and I wished we could just stay here like this, with our arms wrapped around each other, for the rest of the night, the rest of the week. Letting the real world back in, especially after the day we'd had, didn't really appeal to me right now.
"How you feelin', Iz?"
"Like I got punched in the face," she chuckled into my chest, but for the life of me, I just couldn't see the humor in this.
There was nothing funny to me about the cut across her cheek, the bruising underneath her eye, or the nasty cut sliced across her palm. I lifted her head off my shoulder so I could gauge what she was really feeling.
"Seriously, babe, you feelin' okay?"
She just lifted a shoulder and leaned back into my chest. "My head hurts. My hand's throbbing. It hurts to move my face. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"I just want you to be honest with me. I can't help you if I don't know what's goin' on."
"I know," she sighed against my chest. "I know. Sorry."
"Nothin' to be sorry about, Iz."
I kissed the top of her head and pulled her tight against my chest, wishing I could get her closer somehow.
"You're really great, you know that?" Isabelle murmured.
She tilted her head back so her chin rested on the top of my chest, letting her look directly at me and giving me direct access to her lips. Never one to miss an opportunity, I tilted my neck down just enough to brush my lips against hers.
"How did everything go with my dad?"
I sighed into her hair and leaned back against the counter, pulling her along with me. "There weren't any problems, Iz."
She nodded into my chest and burrowed herself a little deeper into me. "Good. Honestly,
I was a little worried about you two being alone in the same car together...you and my dad are never gonna get along now, are you?"
I really wished I could tell her otherwise, that I could say with at least some certainty that we might be able to set aside our obvious differences and animosities at some point, but in light of everything he'd done to her today, I just didn't see that ever happening. I couldn't imagine a scenario where I would ever feel comfortable with the two of them being alone in the same room together, so imagining myself in the same room as her dad, let alone tolerating him, wasn't even in the realm of possibility.
Because I couldn't give her the answer she wanted, I opted to just kiss her forehead and hoped that was enough.
"He said some really shitty things," she sighed and all I could do was just hold on to her so she could get it all out. "He just kept going on about how my mom was never happy with him and how he didn't understand why she stayed after I left for college. I never knew any of that. I never knew they had those kind of problems."
"All couples have problems, Iz," I shrugged. "And I think your dad's memory might be a little sketchy anyways, you know?"
Her neck tilted back and when I got a good look at those beautiful blue eyes, my heart felt like it got swallowed by my stomach.
"He said he hated how much I look like her. Do you...do you think I look like her?"
My thumb brushed a fresh tear from her cheek and then my hand moved to her face in an attempt to give her the comfort she needed right now. An image of Katherine Martin flashed through my mind and as I looked down at her daughter now...yeah, they did look alike. Same beautiful blue eyes, same shiny blonde hair, same kind smile. Like mother, like daughter for sure.
