Cautious: An Everyday Heroes World Novel (The Everyday Heroes World)

by Candice Wright

  “I remember that day. It was a billion degrees, I’d been bitching about the heat and the sand all morning. Benny shoved me out of the Humvee with the first box of supplies, telling me to suck it up, buttercup. I flipped him off and dropped off the supplies but stopped in to see Malik before collecting any more. It's what saved my life.”

  Her hand squeezes mine tightly at that, but I carry on, forcing the words out before they become stuck in my throat.

  “Insurgents came out of nowhere and opened fire, took out the Humvee and half the hospital with an RPG. I grabbed Malik and the six other kids in the room and hid in the storage cellar beneath the ground. Every fiber of me wanted to go help my brothers. I could hear the gunfire, telling me they were fighting back despite being outnumbered, but couldn’t leave the babies unprotected.”

  I turn to look at her with haunted eyes and see she has tears streaming down her face. “Oh god, Blake, I’m so sorry.”

  I squeeze her hand and pull over to the side of the road, switching off the engine while I stare blankly ahead and finish my story.

  “I listened as the gunfire grew less and less until there was nothing left but silence. I knew... I knew they were gone, everyone was dead, and I left them there. I’d left them to die. I could smell the blood in the air before I ever saw them. If I had—”

  Callie cuts me off, unclipping her seatbelt and climbing into my lap. She grabs my face with both hands, her wet eyes staring into mine, forcing me to hear her words.

  “It was not your fault,” she whispers, her breath skating over my skin.

  “If I had fought with them—”

  She kisses me hard, shutting me up before pulling back. “You’d be dead. Malik would be dead, and so would those babies you saved. You're not God, Blake, you can’t save the world. But you are a hero to those kids you saved, and your teammates who fought so valiantly would be so fucking proud of you. You mar their memory by wearing your guilt like a shroud, and if they were anything like you, they would kick your ass for blaming yourself,” she tells me, making me laugh a little through my tears.

  “Thank you,” I whisper. I feel like a weight has been lifted. She’s right, they would be so pissed at me right now.

  “Thank you for sharing with me.” She kisses me softly. I grip her tightly, pouring every ounce of gratitude into it and leaving us both breathless.

  “I really am sorry about earlier. My mouth tends to run away with me. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “I know. Lucky for me your runaway mouth is good at many other things too.” She smiles against my lips.

  “Oh really, and what might they be?” I query as she laughs and climbs back into the passenger seat.

  “Oh, you know the usual, voodoo kisses and eating my cookie,” she casually throws out.

  I bark out a surprised laugh, the tension and melancholy mood breaking around us.

  “Will you forgive me if I promise to show exactly what this mouth can do?” I ask with a smile, pulling back onto the quiet street.

  “Hmm… that is a very tempting offer.” She pretends to contemplate it for a minute, tapping her thumb against her jaw before smiling. “Fine. I accept these terms.”

  I reach over and snag her hand and place it on my thigh, needing to feel her touch.

  We sit quietly for a little while, listening to the radio play country music in the background before she speaks again.

  “I get that you were only trying to help me, but you have no idea what happened, and I really don't want to keep having this conversation with you until I’m ready. Can we just save it for now?”

  I pull into her driveway and shut off the engine, turning to find her eyes on me.

  “I just want you to be happy, baby. I’ll fuck up again because I have a penis—it's what we do—but don’t shut me out, okay?” I tell her preemptively, remembering I still need to talk to her about her mother, but that can keep until tomorrow. Both of us have had enough for tonight.

  We head up the steps to the front door, me taking her key and opening it wide for her to enter.

  “I won't shut you out anymore,” she agrees, dumping her bag on the table beside the door.

  “Now how about you show me what all the fuss is about when it comes to make-up sex,” she teases before freezing when a voice speaks from the still-open door behind us.

  “Callie?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Callie

  I stand frozen in place at the sound of my name on her lips, ice flooding my veins as my past and present collide with each other. I look up at Blake and see him watching me with a look of apprehension on his features.

  “Your mom turned up here asking to see you.” He turns to look at my mom with a frown. “She was supposed to go back to her hotel and wait for a call,” he tells me, but he doesn’t know what she’s like. “She said she wanted a chance to fix things,” he adds, looking unsure about what to do.

  “Blake—” I start, but I don’t know what else to say without causing everything to tumble down around me.

  “Callie, I’ve missed you,” my mother interrupts, clearly sensing the correct moment to pounce.

  Stepping toward me, she looks polished and put together as always in her white pantsuit and tan kitten heels. The string of pearls around her neck and a designer bag on her arm are a far cry from the cheap knockoffs she wore when I was a kid. Back before she married a man with more money than sense.

  I tense as she moves to hug me. But Blake’s oblivious, taking a step back to give us space.

  “I’ll give you guys some time to talk. I’ll just be next door, Callie, if you need me,” he says quietly, squeezing my hand once before letting go.

  Before I can protest, my mother wraps her arms tightly—too tightly—around me and answers for me.

  “Thank you, Blake. You really are too kind.”

  “I’d do anything for Callie, Mrs. Roberts,” he adds, which sounds almost like a warning.

  “Brenda, please,” she insists, injecting fake sweetness into her voice.

  “Brenda then. I’ll check in later, Callie,” he calls, hesitating for a moment but when I don’t say anything to stop him, he leaves, closing the front door behind him.

  As soon as the door closes, her mask comes off. She shoves away from me so quickly, I stumble.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask her, crossing my arms over my chest to ward off the chill, refusing to let her any farther into my home than the entrance hall.

  “Don’t ask stupid questions you already know the answer to. I’ve come to take you home.”

  “This is my home now. I’m not going anywhere with you,” I snap.

  She steps forward again, backing me against the wall. Grabbing a handful of my hair, she yanks it hard. Shit, I forgot how much it hurt when she did that.

  “You’ll do as you’re told, or I’ll be forced to send your location to Christian. He won't be happy if he has to send men here to collect you.”

  I wrench myself free of her grip, losing strands of hair in the process, but I barely feel it.

  “How do you even know Christian?” I spit his name from my lips.

  “Everyone knows who Christian is. He has everyone out looking for his runaway fiancée,” she answers snidely.

  “I don’t know how many times I’ve said it before or to how many people, but I’ll say it once more for you and hope it sinks in. I am not marrying that man and nothing you or he does will make me change my mind.”

  She laughs at me, a cruel sound that was the soundtrack of my childhood.

  “You stupid, naïve fool. You’ll do what I tell you to do or your poor boyfriend will have a little accident.” She spits the word “boyfriend” out like it’s acid on her tongue.

  “Blake isn’t like everyone else you've manipulated. He won't be the easy target you think he is. He’s a soldier with a team of men at his back. If you try to hurt him, he will kill you with his bare hands,” I grit out.

  I see worry cross her f
ace, but she masks it quickly, too stupid to believe she isn’t as invincible as she seems to think she is.

  “Do you really think Christian will care about a bunch of jarheads?” She rolls her eyes at me like I’m stupid. “When Christian makes his move, your little friend won’t see him coming. He’s not the kind of man to knock on your door, Callie, he’ll come for you in the middle of the night, taking out anyone who gets in his way.”

  She’s right, I have to warn Blake.

  She must recognize something in my eyes because she points her finger hard into my chest.

  “I can see your little brain working, daughter dearest, but remember one thing, nobody believed you then and they won’t believe you now. You are just the poor, messed-up little girl who hasn’t dealt with the horrors of her traumatic childhood. Go ahead and vilify me, I dare you. It won't stop Christian from coming. The only way to do that is to come home.”

  I stare at this evil woman, wondering what I ever did to deserve a mother like her.

  “Marry him your fucking self. You're both perfect for each other especially since, at forty-seven, he’s closer to your age than mine.”

  “It's you he wants and it's you he was promised, and I never break a promise.”

  I frown at her as something dark and ugly unfolds inside me. What, exactly does she mean when she says promised?

  Christian Baylor, a man known for his illegal deals as well as his brutality, decided I would make a good wife for him the day he met me at a charity function for the homeless I attended.

  He became obsessed with me right off the bat and, despite my absolute revulsion, he refused to take no for an answer.

  The police wouldn't help, saying their hands were tied as he hadn’t technically done anything wrong yet. I knew, though, that if I waited until he made his move, it would be too late. And it nearly was.

  He cornered me on my way home from the shelter I volunteered at and dragged me into the alleyway adjacent to the building, while his driver kept watch. He slapped me hard, yelling that he was tired of waiting while I flaunted my body around the dregs of society, and proceeded to shove his hand down my pants. I clawed at his face and screamed, thankfully drawing the attention of two homeless guys who stepped in, giving me a chance to run.

  One police report later, I knew I had to leave town. Not enough evidence, they said, unreliable witnesses, they informed me, but I realized by then it was likely that Christian had officers in his pocket.

  I went straight home and packed up everything I had and left.

  “What are you talking about?” I question quietly while part of my brain screams at me that I don’t want to know.

  She has a wild gleam in her eye, excitement warring with satisfaction. A look I have seen too many times before. The night my father was falsely arrested, the night we were told he was dead. The day her next future ex-husband married her and even the day of his funeral. She is a cold, calculating psychopath that has everyone around her fooled. Everyone, it seems, but me.

  Even her husbands, who had both barely survived their marriages to her, still bought into her brand of crazy until the bitter end. But of course, by then it was too late.

  She’s an expert manipulator that could make the sanest person question themself.

  “I met Christian before Thomas died.” Thomas, her last ex-husband, had died of a heart attack after catching her in bed with his best friend.

  She cruelly boasted about it to me afterward, leaving me feeling disgusted that we are even related.

  “He was ideal for scratching an itch, but we are both too similar for anything more permanent. He was impressed with how calm I was when Thomas died, how I was happy to let him leave before the emergency services got there to avoid the tarnish to his name—”

  I cut her off, feeling sick to my stomach. “Christian was the guy Thomas caught you with?” My face twists in revulsion.

  She doesn’t answer my question, just carries on talking like I never even spoke.

  “He, himself, admitted we were too alike. Plus, he wanted a wife, someone young and naïve. Someone malleable with a daddy complex.” She laughs, finding the whole thing funny, oblivious to the horror unfurling inside me.

  “I told him about you, showed him a photo, told him all about your daddy issues. He was so excited we had to fuck again just so he could get it out of his system.” Her smile disappears, her face hardening before focusing on me once more.

  “I told him he could have you as long as he kept me in the lifestyle I had grown accustomed to. It was, after all, partly his fault Thomas died. Now he is refusing to give me any more money until you return and take your vows,” she snaps, angry at me once more.

  “You sold me?” I stutter, appalled. I can’t comprehend the words I’m saying, even though I know they’re true.

  She sold her own child. I don’t know why I’m surprised after everything she has already done, but I am. That small little girl buried deep in my psyche howls at the injustice of it all.

  “My father is dead because of you. You took him from me, took everything from me but it's still not enough, is it?” I whisper incredulously.

  “You are making this a bigger deal than you need to. Arranged marriages happen all the time. He is rich and powerful. You’ll never want for anything again,” she replies flippantly.

  “No, you’ll never want for anything again. That’s all this is about. Cold hard fucking cash. He doesn’t want a wife. He wants a toy, and what will become of me when he’s done with me? When I’m too broken to repair? He’ll dispose of me before forcing some other poor girl to take my place.” I’d never get out of that marriage alive. How can she not care?

  “I brought you into this world. I fed you, clothed you—”

  “That's your fucking job. It's called being a parent,” I scream.

  “You owe me,” she grates out through gritted teeth.

  I bang my head against the wall, so angry my whole body is vibrating with it. I can’t reason with her because she’s so fucking delusional, she only hears what she wants to.

  “Get out,” I growl at her, my voice unrecognizable. I’m so done with this conversation, this woman, and this whole freaking debacle.

  “You have seven days, Callie. If you aren’t at the Eagleton Hotel by then, I’ll call Christian. Then you’ll wish you had listened to me.”

  She slides her bag over her shoulder and with a toss of her hair turns and leaves, closing the door behind her with more force than necessary.

  I stagger into the living room, looking around the space I had finally made a home, and feel all the fight leave. My legs buckle as I grip the wall for support before collapsing to the floor, my vision flooded with tears. I wrap my arms around my knees, shaking hard enough for my teeth to clank together painfully and sob my heart out.

  Why is it every time I think I’m free, that woman drags me back to hell again?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Blake

  I say goodbye to my grandmother, noticing that Brenda’s Mercedes is gone. I jog back over to Callie’s place, hoping she isn’t too mad at me for leaving her with her mother. But when she returned unexpectedly, I was at a loss over what to do. They have unresolved issues to work out, but I learned my lesson about getting involved.

  I knock on the door but when she doesn’t answer I turn the handle, finding it unlocked. I frown, making a note to remind her to lock the door behind her in the future. We might be in a small town, but shit can always happen when you least expect it to.

  “Callie?” I call out, freezing when I hear a sniffle coming from the sitting room. A quick look inside shows no Callie, so I turn to make my way to the kitchen when I hear it again. This time, I move farther into the room and finally spot her huddled on the floor with her knees pulled up to her chest and her head bowed as she sobs quietly.

  “Jesus Christ.” I’m by her side in three steps and on my knees in the next second, pulling her shaking frame against mine protectively.


  “What happened?”

  She doesn’t answer. She just burrows herself into the crook of my neck and grips me tightly. Jesus Christ, who do I need to kill?

  “Talk to me, sweetheart, you're scaring the shit out of me,” I implore as her tears soak through my t-shirt to my skin.

  She sniffs and takes a deep stuttering breath, which hitches painfully in her chest, making her voice catch in her throat.

  “I have to go,” she tells me, pulling back to look up at me with those beautiful eyes of hers.

  “Go where? I’ll take you anywhere, but you have to tell me what's going on,” I say gently, swiping the tears from her cheeks with the pads of my thumbs.

  “No, I mean I have to leave Sunnyville. It's not safe for me here anymore, it's not safe for any of you if I stay.”

  My body freezes, every emotion shutting down to make way for cold clinical rage. I fucking knew she was in danger. God-fucking-damn-it.

  “Explain,” I order, my voice rough as I try to keep my fury in check, but it's hard when I know my girl’s in danger.

  “Just let me go, Blake. I’m not worth the trouble, trust me.” She shakes her head, trying to climb to her feet, but I grip both her arms with my hands and halt her movements.

  “Not gonna happen, baby. Now tell me what has you so spooked.” I soften my voice as much as I can, but my tone lets her know this is nonnegotiable.

  She sighs and slumps against me. “I came here to start over. I packed up my stuff and left, thinking he’d get bored and find a new object to obsess over if I put some distance between us. It's not like I’m anything special,” she mumbles. But that's just it. She has no idea how special she is. It radiates from her like a fucking beacon, and any predator circling would be able to see and want it for themselves.

  “Callie, slow down, take a deep breath, and start over. Why isn’t it safe for you here?” That seems to be the most pressing issue at the moment.

  “Because Christian Baylor wants me for a wife and, apparently, whatever Christian wants, Christian gets,” she answers somberly.