by K. Ryan
His eyebrows rose at that and I smiled back absentmindedly as the memory washed over me again.
"I kinda freaked out," I went on, my lips quirking up when he grinned knowingly. "I guess I just didn't want to be anywhere she wasn't. I also didn't see the benefit of someone with stage four lung cancer going for a walk anywhere by herself. But when she came back, she just seemed so peaceful. So accepting. Almost happy, too, if that makes any sense. I couldn't understand it. I still don't really understand it. I guess I just wanted to see if I could figure out what she was feeling when she went on that walk, how she could set aside all the bad and choose to just focus on the good and be happy. I don't know if I'll ever understand that."
Caleb tilted his head to the side a little, his eyes trained on my painting as he spoke. "I don't know what your mom was thinking that day, but if it's anything like that," he gestured with his head to the canvas, "I think I can see where she was coming from."
I smiled softly. "Thanks."
His eyes gave me the strength I needed to continue on and I walked him through the rest of my exhibit, the one inspired by my conflicted emotions surrounding my dad, one inspired by Chloe that I planned on gifting to her as soon as the showcase was over, a few pieces detailing both my anxiety and my passion for this new career path I was heading down, the ones inspired by him, and finally, the one about Becca with its slashes of crimson.
He wrapped both arms around me, enveloping me in warmth and safety.
"I'm so fuckin' proud of you I can barely see straight," he whispered into my hair. "Every single one, Iz...they're all you. You blew all these other sorry assholes here tonight right outta the water."
"You didn't even see the other exhibits."
He shrugged with his arms still around me and bent down to press his lips against mine. "Didn't have to."
"I love you."
Caleb smiled against my lips. "I love you, too."
. . .
Caleb
I wasn't exactly looking forward to having this conversation with Isabelle, but I didn't really have a choice either. We were leaving for the run tomorrow and the details were already set in stone. The drop-off location and time were ready to go. Marcus had pretty much immediately decided that our 'usual' meeting location was a no-go this time around and I could see his point. Better to be safe than sorry.
We'd be making the exchange with the Warlord's VP, Theo Wallace, as well as two other club members. This was just typical shit, nothing new, nothing to be worried about and come Tuesday, I'd have an extra $15K sitting in my hands.
The problem now would be Isabelle.
I watched her take her high heels off and toss her purse down on the kitchen table; it was that moment that I made the immediate decision to butter her up as much as I could. When I handed her the ice cream she'd all but annihilated before we left the house earlier, she cocked a suspicious eyebrow at me.
"What?" I shrugged innocently. "I thought maybe you wanted a snack or something before we went to bed."
"Sure," she drawled and hesitantly took the ice cream from me. "This is weird."
All I could do was watch her hop up on the counter and brace myself for the inevitable fall-out while she dug in. I let her get a few healthy bites in before I took a deep breath and came out with it.
"Iz, I need to talk to you about something."
The ice cream carton immediately dropped down to the counter.
"Okay."
I took a deep breath. "Dom and I are goin' on a run tomorrow."
Her mouth dropped open a little and jumped on the opportunity to explain before she could beat me to the punch.
"I know what you're thinkin', Iz," I held my hands up in defense. "I'll be back in plenty of time before Saturday. It'll just be a few days and I should be home by Tuesday—Wednesday at the absolute latest, okay?"
Isabelle stared back me, her mouth still lodged open in surprise and then she started shaking her head in disbelief.
"Wha...wait. I don't understand. Why are you doing this?"
"Marcus brought it to the table tonight. That's what church was about. We'll get to Pittsburgh and back in plenty of time before the wedding and Dom and I are gonna get $15,000 out of the deal, Iz. That's kinda insane, right?"
"Yeah," she replied in a tight, flippant voice that already had me wincing. "It is insane. Very insane. And what happened to us talking everything through before making a decision that affects both of us?"
I frowned back at her. "We are talking, Iz."
Her face turned stony as she hopped off the counter. "No, we're not. This isn't us having a productive discussion. This is you making up your mind again before talking to me about it again and now you're just telling me after the fact...again."
"This is club business. It's not the same."
"So you're saying you leaving for this run tomorrow doesn't affect me at all?"
I blew out a hard breath and tugged a hand through my hair. "No, that's not what I'm saying. I knew you weren't gonna be happy, but, Iz, this is for the club. This is to help keep the peace between us and one of our business contacts. I hate to break it you, but those kind of decisions don't really concern you."
Her eyes flashed and now she was leaning against the counter with her arms folded across her chest defiantly. "The fact that this is stupid and risky and just dumb when the club has been having all these problems lately—that you could get caught—that doesn't concern me at all?"
"I never said that."
"Yes, you did. And that's really not fair, you know."
"We already made the arrangements, Iz," I lifted a shoulder. "And we'll be back before you know it. Would you just calm down?"
Oh shit. I'd just made a huge mistake.
Her arms fell from her sides and she was advancing on me now, fire raging in those blue eyes, until we were toe-to-toe.
"No, I will not calm down. I just don't get it, Caleb. Why does it have to be you taking this kind of risk?"
I sighed again and tugged another hand through my hair, reaching for her with my free hand, but she batted it down. "We could really use that money right now, Iz."
Her eyes widened. "That's what this is about? Money? Are we...wait a minute. Is there something else you haven't told me?"
"We're not exactly in the red or anything, but think about all the money I've had to spend recently. The house. Everything in our house. Everything we need for the baby."
"We can figure something else out," she whispered, her eyes still wide with awareness. "We can cut back. I can work more hours at the shop. I can—"
"You're not working more hours at the shop," I cut in and rested both hands on her waist before she could stop me. "I'm not gonna let you."
"Oh?" she shot back and pushed both hands into my chest until her hips slipped out of my grasp. "You're not gonna let me? That's such bullshit, Caleb. You have to let me contribute a little bit. It shouldn't have to come down to doing something dangerous like this just so we can make ends meet."
"Look, Iz, you said so yourself that babies are expensive. Now that all those doctor bills are coming in, I'm seeing how right you were. We need the money and this is how I make my money. This is how I pay for the house you're living in, the food you eat, the bed you sleep in, the couch, the TV, everything in this goddamn house, your doctor bills, everything you want for the baby, that wedding you wanna have."
I hadn't meant for my anger to bleed through this way, but I just needed her to understand. I needed her to understand this wasn't really about her. It was about me taking care of her the only way I knew how. And even though I hadn't meant to hurt her with those words, the pain and animosity in her eyes still blazed an angry blue.
"Okay," she whispered furiously. "I see how it is. If you want me to pay you rent or something, I can do that. I have my own money, too, you know. Not a lot of it, but I can help. I don't see why you feel like it has to be you that pays for everything. Like I'm never going to make my own money, right? Like I'll
never be able to help provide for my family too?"
"No, Iz, that's not what I meant—"
"I understood you perfectly, Caleb," she cut in. "The last thing I want is to be a freeloader. We should've talked about this when we first moved into the house, but there are other ways we can make ends meet, okay?"
"That money could get us more things we need," I told her, desperate now for her to just get it. "Furniture for the nursery. That dress you want for the wedding after the baby gets here. That place you found online for the reception. The mortgage on our house. Your tuition—"
"You're not paying my tuition, Caleb. You shouldn't have to do that. I have student loans and—"
"And," I told her pointedly. "When we get married, your debt will become my debt too, won't it?"
She sucked in a shaky breath. "That's not fair."
"That's the way it is," I shrugged. "And don't get me wrong, I don't have a problem covering any of it. I want to. That's the point, Iz. I want to provide for you and our family and get you anything you want. But to do that, I have to take these jobs. I have to go where the money is."
Isabelle blew out a breath and shook her head. "I can take a semester or two off after the baby comes. Dr. Jacobs was talking to me at the showcase about getting my studio hours done before the baby's born, taking time off, and daycare options. I don't know. Maybe it'll just be easier if I take some time off. Then I'd be able to work more hours at the shop and—"
"You're not taking any time off from school, Iz. At least not a full semester. You can't."
Now, her eyes were blazing again. "Don't tell me what to do, Caleb. You're perfectly willing to walk around and do whatever the hell you want without consulting me first, so why can't I do the same?"
"After the baby gets here, you'll just have, what? Three semesters left? You can't take a break, Iz. You need to finish. If you take a break, who knows when you'll be able to go back?"
She had to know I was right about at least that. The last thing I wanted was to see her give up her passion because I couldn't be the man I needed to be and put food on the table. Instead, she just backpedalled until her hips hit the counter.
"That's not your decision to make," she told me icily. "You don't get a say in my career."
"I just want the best for you, Iz," I held my hands out in the air and lifted a shoulder. "That's all this is about. I don't wanna fight with you, but I need you to understand this is just something I have to do."
Her chest was heaving now as she glared back at me, hot, angry tears welling up in her eyes. "I get where you're coming from with the money and the bills and the house and everything else that goes with it. I can't understand this. I can't understand something that would put you in danger—something that would put you at risk."
"I'll be fine. There's no risk. No danger."
"I don't believe that," she shook her head. "And you're an idiot if you do."
"Iz," I sighed, my hands on my hips and at the end of my rope. "I need you to get behind me on this."
She swallowed hard and wiped a tear from her cheek. "So that's how it's going be? If I got on my hands and knees and begged you not to do it, you still would, wouldn't you? It doesn't matter what I think. You're still gonna do it."
"I have to."
Her teary eyes rolled up to the ceiling as she shook her head. Now she pushed past me and headed right for the hallway, calling angrily over her shoulder: "You don't have to do anything, Caleb."
I squeezed my eyes shut and scrubbed both hands over my face. Then I took off after her, hot on her heels to follow her to our bedroom only to have the door slammed right in my face. My hands immediately shook the knob and I pounded on the door.
"Iz, come on. Don't do this. Just let me in, okay?"
The cold, muffled voice through the door pretty much solidified how I'd spend the rest of my night: "You can spend the night at the fucking clubhouse for all I care."
I sighed and leaned my forehead against the door. I'd expected her to be upset. I'd expected a little bit of an argument, a little bit of fighting, but I definitely hadn't expected this. As I ran a hand over my face, I shuffled down the hallway, grabbed a spare pillow and blanket from the closet, and tossed them onto the couch.
Maybe in the morning, maybe when I got back from the run, she'd see how she'd completely blown this out of proportion. When I came home and when I handed her that envelope, she'd be grateful and happy to have the extra security just a few days before our wedding.
Tonight, unfortunately, I was sleeping on the couch.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Coup de Grâce
Caleb
I leaned back against the driver's seat and squeezed my eyes shut. The last 24 hours had been filled with restless tossing and turning and hours on the road. Dom and I buckled down in Cincinnati the night before and then hit the road early this morning to meet up with Theo Wallace and finally get this shit over with. Like I'd predicted, we had no issues. No signs of any problems.
Once Wallace showed up and the exchange was made, we'd be free and clear.
But now that we were just sitting here waiting, that sick feeling I'd spent most of these last 24 hours trying to bat down reared its ugly head again. It didn't help matters that Isabelle had all but shut me out since slamming our bedroom door in my face. Right before I left the next morning, she finally opened the door, let me kiss her goodbye, and whispered to me to be safe. That was pretty much all I'd gotten from her since, too.
Part of me knew how right Isabelle was, and how right Marcus was too, but I'd put my foot down. I'd made a decision and now I had to see it through. How would it look to the rest of the club if I swore up and down that there was no risk, that I would have their backs and protect our deals with the Warlords only to just back out at the last second?
I couldn't back out now for that very reason even if I wanted to.
"Jesus, this is takin' forever," Dom muttered next to me. "I just wanna get this over with."
I nodded tightly. "Yeah. You and me both."
We'd really only been sitting here not even a full five minutes, but each second that ticked by just upped my panic, my dread. I just wanted to be home right now. Even if it meant admitting I was wrong. Even if it meant getting on my hands and knees and kissing Isabelle's feet until she forgave me.
Just following through with this job, just sitting here in the van waiting for the Warlords to get here—it just all felt wrong.
"Honestly," Dom told me quietly, as if he'd heard my thoughts and decided we both needed a distraction. "If things weren't so tight money-wise, I never would've agreed to this. Lex is already talkin' about another kid. Can you believe that shit? Our first one isn't even close to a year old yet and you'd think she'd want to wait a little while since it wasn't exactly like we planned the first one, you know?"
"Yeah, that's something I'll never understand," I huffed out a laugh and shook my head. "It's like a switch just turns on. When Iz first found out she was pregnant, she was the one who completely freaked out, not me. All this stuff about how we weren't ready, we were too young, it was too soon and then...bam! She's sketching a mural in the nursery and getting on my ass about smoking."
"That sounds familiar," Dom nodded ruefully.
"Now she's talking about taking some time off from school after the kid gets here."
Dom cocked an eyebrow. "That sounds like something she'd say, but I take it you don't agree."
"Nah. I don't. She worked too hard to get where she is. Besides, what will she do if she doesn't end up going back?"
"I don't know," he just shrugged. "What will she do even if she finishes?"
"What do you mean?"
Dom scratched his beard in thought. "What does someone with a degree in painting do in a town like Claremont anyway?"
I frowned, my eyes flying back to the gravel road in front of the van. What would she do after she graduated? I didn't know much about the art scene or how an artist even attempted to get a caree
r going, but I knew enough to know you couldn't do it in Small Town, USA. That was why I'd wanted her to end up at that school in Richmond anyway.
All my good intentions, all my selfish happiness at her decision to stay in town back in January, all my concerns that she was giving up something she shouldn't just to be with me...I was starting to think that maybe she'd inadvertently sacrificed it anyway without either of us even realizing it.
The reality was difficult to reconcile. I didn't want her to have to give anything up, but if we were living here, raising our family, what options did she really have? Working in the office at the shop? Opening her own gallery in town where hardly anyone here was equipped to really understand her talent, where she'd barely get any recognition or any money for her hard work?
I swallowed back more panic, fighting the urge to stick my head out the window and puke.
Luckily, my stomach was saved when another black van rolled down the gravel road and parked right next to us.
Everything sprung to life just a few moments later as the three Warlords we were meeting jumped out of their van. Following their lead, Dom and I opened our doors and stepped onto the gravel to meet Theo Wallace.
I stepped forward, my hand outstretched to him and Wallace promptly shook it, regarding me with a tight nod.
"Nice to see you again, Sawyer," Wallace greeted me, gripping my hand a little tighter as he spoke.
"You, too," I retorted and quickly gestured to the back of the van. As far as I was concerned, there was no time for small talk.
Wallace seemed to agree and skirted around to the back of the van, where Dom was already waiting with the back door open so Wallace could inspect the product before he took it off our hands.
Wallace ran a hand over his shiny bald head and then stroked the dark scruff on his face as he perused the contents of each barrel, double-checking to make sure we'd held up our end of the deal, just as he should.
"Looks like everything's there."
