by K. Ryan
After two weeks of driving this thing around, I really should've been used to it, but every time I opened the door, the familiarity curling around it was almost too much to bear. He had a newer, fancier truck since I last saw him, but it wasn't that. It was just him. Everywhere and in everything. The presets on the radio. The pine air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror. The Harley Davidson sticker in the back window. Even the color, a deep, magnetic blue, was all him. I hated it. And yet, I was still driving the damn thing around, wasn't I?
I gave Coop what he wanted and let him out, wincing as he took off for the closest patch of grass, which just happened to be right in front of the office, and proceeded to piss all over it.
"Nice, Coop," I grumbled. "Way to make a first impression."
From the looks of it, nobody was in the office to notice Cooper's little display. Lucky me.
To be fair, Caleb had no idea I was coming. I'd had no idea I was coming up until about five minutes ago. Somehow, I'd just sort of found my way here, starting with my aimless drive around town and ending with me standing in Sawyer Custom Builds' parking lot with a bag of take-out in one hand and a tray of drinks in the other.
I hadn't seen him since my dad's BMW took a shit and I'd had that fun little run-in with the Horsemen's current nemesis, but he'd called my dad's cell phone three times during these last two weeks. Once to quote me a price, which I still didn't trust was completely thorough, and the other two times to give me an update on the status of the parts and progress on my dad's car.
It was just easier that way. If we kept our distance and stayed behind our carefully-drawn lines in the sand, we could each just continue on as normally and as civilly as possible. All that, of course, completely flew in the face of my current predicament. Not to mention I was still sitting here wondering just how he had my dad's cell number. I had a feeling the answer to that might make my head explode.
Just like the last time I'd found my way here, every single person inside was engrossed in their work. Chrome plates littered each worker's individual work space, others were welding in the corner, another pair of workers were hand-painting decals onto the length of some chrome, tires were being replaced, and in another corner, an entire engine sat on a desk as one of Caleb's employees unscrewed a piece of it. It was all so efficient and organized. Everyone in their own area and playing their part, rolling along like a well-oiled machine.
A low whistle sounded from above my head and it took me a moment to find the source. Caleb leaned over a railing with his elbows on the ledge, grinning down at me with just a hint of surprise and confusion in his eyes. Without any other hesitation, he started down the flight of stairs, which I imagined could only lead to his apartment above the shop.
"Hey, Iz," he exhaled when we were finally standing face to face. "What's up?"
I gingerly lifted the bag of food and drink tray in my hands. "I thought I'd bring you lunch. Unless you ate already...?"
His eyebrows furrowed as his eyes dropped to my hands and back up to me again. I couldn't really blame him. I didn't know what I was doing here either.
"Nah, I didn't eat yet," he rocked back on his heels and tilted his chin toward the bag of food with a smirk. "Whatcha got in there?"
"Fast food," I shrugged. "I figured if I cooked something, you'd be too afraid to eat it."
His lips twitched in amusement. "That sounds about right."
I just rolled my eyes at him and held out the drink tray, which he took wordlessly from me. That was right around the time Cooper remembered he was technically supposed to have my back as he padded over to me, sat on his haunches at my feet, and eyed Caleb up curiously.
Caleb's eyebrows lifted as he quietly observed Cooper lean into me and raise his left paw up for Caleb to shake.
"Geez," I muttered under my breath.
With his eyes glittering, Caleb crouched down to Cooper's level and shook his paw.
I rolled my eyes and gestured to my dog. "Caleb, meet Cooper. Cooper, Caleb."
When you put their names together so closely—nope, not going there. Subconsciously or not, their names had nothing to do with each other and that was what I just had to keep telling myself.
Caleb dropped Cooper's paw so he could scratch in between his ears and I thought I saw Cooper's eyes roll back into his head. Just great.
"Hey there, buddy," Caleb murmured to him. "You been taking good care of her, right?"
My eyes dropped warily to my dog, who was looking at Caleb like he hung the moon and the stars as long as he just kept scratching him like that. "It kinda defeats the purpose of having a guard dog when he just walks up to every stranger he meets like they're his best friend."
Caleb's lips twisted into a frown as he glanced back down at my dog.
"It's nice to have a little security when I'm in my apartment or just walking around the city, you know?" I shrugged.
He was silent for a moment like he was considering my words and my life in New York carefully and his eyes dimmed. "Right."
This slightly darker mood had me shifting from side to side uncomfortably and I gestured to the food in my hands so we could get moving already.
"So you wanna eat or what?"
Just like that, the cloud lifted and he flashed me a bright smile. "Yeah. Let's go. I got a picnic table behind the shop with our name on it."
. . .
Well, if this wasn't just a basketful of shitty memories. I didn't know how many times Caleb and I had sat at a picnic table eating lunch together and I'd all but forgotten how much I'd used to look forward to this whenever we shared a shift. It was weird, to say the least. And painful. And wonderful. And all the other things I just couldn't let myself feel.
If Caleb noticed my discomfort, how unsettled I felt sitting here, how desperately I wanted to just reach across the picnic table and touch him, he didn't show it. In fact, he unwrapped his cheeseburger, took a healthy bite, and watched Cooper inspect the lot without as much as a glance my way.
But any leeway and space he'd afforded me just now flew right out the window when he glanced up at me from his burger and asked, "So I'd like to believe you brought me lunch today because you wanted to see me, but I don't really think that's why, is it?"
He was closer to the truth than he knew, but admitting that out loud wouldn't help me right now. It wouldn't really help him either.
I sucked in a deep breath and smiled. It was brief and forced and it was more for his benefit than mine, but I didn't know what else to do.
I shrugged and dove into the little speech I'd practiced on my way here. "I've been a complete bitch to you since I've been back and I'm sorry."
His burger dropped onto the greasy paper in front of him and he leaned forward, opening his mouth to correct me, but I beat him to the punch.
"Come on, Caleb," I smiled softly and something shifted in his blue eyes as he leaned back. "You know it's true. I found that contract, came charging in here without even really thinking about it and blamed you for something that wasn't really your fault. I should've been thanking you, not yelling at you."
Caleb sighed heavily. "You were blind-sided by the whole thing, Iz. Your dad knew you'd feel that way and he kept it from you anyway and I played my part by agreeing to it in the first place. You had every right to be pissed at both of us."
"And what about the fit I threw about the starter, huh?"
He frowned at me. "I wouldn't exactly call it a fit."
"Fine. Whatever you wanna call it," I batted a hand at him. "But I wasn't very nice about that whole mess either. All you've been doing is trying to help me and I've just been making your life difficult every step of the way."
His lips quirked up in a smile and he lifted a shoulder as he swept his burger off the table again. "And it's been a pleasure."
In my need to change the subject, I thoughtlessly spewed out something I'd never planned on telling him.
"Honestly, I think I just needed to get out of the house for awhile," I told h
im quietly.
Goddammit. What the hell was my problem? Now that I'd opened it up, he was just going to ask more questions that I wouldn't want to answer. I never should've bothered coming here. What did I really think was going to happen?
"How's he doing?" Caleb called out to me from across the picnic table.
I just shrugged helplessly. "He's dying. Everyday's just a little bit worse than the last one."
He nodded and glanced down at his hands for just a moment. "If you need—"
"I got it, okay? It's not on you to take care of him."
"Right," Caleb nodded tightly.
As far as I was concerned, it wasn't really any of his business either, but we didn't need to go there. And then my mouth opened before I could stop myself.
"It was just really bad this morning," the word vomit tumbled out of me whether I liked it or not. "His medicine was making him throw up and I couldn't get him off the bathroom floor. He's just not himself anymore. It's eating away at him and I can see it. I can literally see it happening and there's nothing I can do to help him..."
I trailed off, sucking in mouthfuls of air but that didn't stop the tightening in my chest. Or the tingling in my fingertips. Or the dryness in my mouth. I was right back where I was this morning with trembling hands and sweaty palms only this time, I wasn't alone. This time, I had an audience.
"Iz?"
I glanced up only to find Caleb leaning into the table on his elbows, his forehead creased in a deep line, and his eyes scanning me from top to bottom.
"Iz?" he asked again when I didn't answer. "You okay?"
My throat tightened like a string and I squeezed my eyes shut, pushing off the bench so I could go...I didn't know where. Somewhere away from here. Somewhere away from him. The reality was that I'd come here today because I wanted to see him and because I knew seeing him would somehow make me feel better. And now I was running from it, scrambling away from the table and aimlessly backpedalling into the gravel at my feet.
"I just, um, I need to go to the bathroom."
Caleb, unfortunately, had already leapt up from the table and was hot on my heels. "It's the second door on your right."
I pivoted around to face the garage, telling myself he wouldn't follow me all the way inside, that he would just leave to ride out this panic attack in peace. Who was I kidding? There was no such thing as peace when Caleb Sawyer was around.
"Don't follow me," I snapped over my shoulder, but there was no point. He was right behind me, so close, in fact, that I could smell that familiar, heady scent of musk and gasoline trailing right underneath my nostrils.
It wasn't enough of a distraction though because my chest was still heaving, my throat was all dried out, and my hands had practically fallen asleep at my sides. I rushed into the bathroom and slammed the door right in Caleb's face before he had a chance to get a word out.
I leaned into the sink with both hands clasping the sides and closed my eyes.
Breathe in. Breathe out. That's all you have to do and this will just be over.
My eyes flew open when pounding thumped on the door.
"Iz," Caleb's voice, although muffled through the door, sounded almost as panicked as I felt. "I have a key, you know. I'm giving you 10 seconds and then I'm coming in."
I sucked in a haggard breath. God, why did I come here today? I should've just ridden this out in my dad's office, freaking out in silence and solitude instead of making a fool of myself here. Suddenly, the door flew open and Caleb crowded the doorway with one hand on the doorknob and the other one tearing through what little hair he had. Our eyes met and then he immediately shut the door behind him, taking a careful step closer.
I didn't know what else to do and because my legs felt weightless, just like they had this morning, I backed up against the wall closest to me and slid all the way down as my feet gave out on me.
Caleb was silent for a moment and shoved his hands deep into his front pockets, his forehead once again lined with worry. I couldn't bring myself to look at him, so I hugged my knees to my chest and rested my chin on one knee. He shuffled forward until we were toe to toe and then he gestured down to the space next to me.
"Is it alright if I sit?"
I shrugged. "It's a free country."
In spite of everything, his lips twisted up into a grin and he slid down the wall to settle in just a few inches away from me, only slowed by the stiffness in his knee. He mimicked my sitting position and leaned his head against the wall before finally turning just a hair to get a better look at me.
"I don't know what happened just now," he murmured. "But you gotta tell me what's going on."
It was only fair. I couldn't show up at his place of business, interrupt his day with a spontaneous, uninvited lunch, barely make it through the whole meal without hyperventilating, and not explain myself.
"I had a panic attack," I exhaled, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice. "That's what happened."
He was silent for a moment, considering my words carefully before he spoke again. "Do you get those a lot?"
"Sometimes. I had one this morning. Having two in one day hasn't happened in a while though. Apparently, they're triggered whenever I feel out of control."
I wasn't going to add that my therapist had also prescribed sleeping pills, which I rarely took even though I probably should, and anti-anxiety pills as well, which I did take as prescribed to various degrees of success. Caleb didn't need to know that.
Caleb nodded slowly as he studied the lines dividing the tiles in his shop's bathroom. "Like the one you had after the break-in?"
Of course he remembered. I hadn't really expected anything else.
"Yeah."
He nodded tightly and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down a few times before he cleared his throat harshly. "And you've had them ever since?"
"Pretty much."
He flinched and the hold he had on his hands folded at his knees tightened until his knuckles turned white. "I'm sorry, Iz."
"I don't know why you're apologizing. It's not your fault."
All I got was silence as he stared blankly into the planes of wood on the door. Now I just needed something to fill this void and as if it had a will of its own, my mouth opened and more word vomit came spilling out.
"It's just so much harder than I thought it would be," I whispered. "I mean, I knew it was going to be hard, but actually watching it every single day, seeing him suffer—I don't know how much longer I can do it."
He nodded again, giving me the space and the time to do or say whatever I needed to feel more normal again. And as I spoke, my body gravitated toward him like a magnet. His presence was enough because ever since he'd stepped foot inside this bathroom, my breathing slowed, my chest loosened, and my fingers didn't tingle so much anymore.
"I'm a terrible person," I murmured.
That had him shifting against the wall so he could face me and he frowned back at me. "Don't say that, Iz."
"No, it's true," I shrugged and with that, my head leaned just far enough to the right until it rested on Caleb's left shoulder. He stiffened for just a moment and just as quickly, he relaxed into me so his chin could prop up protectively on the top of my head.
"I should want it to be over," I whispered again. "It's the best thing for him to not have to suffer anymore. I don't want to have to watch it, but I don't want it to be over either. If it's over, that means he's gone. Our relationship has always been so complicated, but we finally figured it out...finally figured out how to be a family again and now, I just want more time with him. It's so horrible and selfish and cruel and—"
"Iz," his head turned just enough so his mouth could brush my forehead. "It's not horrible and it doesn't make you a terrible person. It just means you love him. That's all."
"I don't know," I sighed, leaning into him just a little bit more. He didn't move an inch. "Ever since my mom...he was just never the same. You know, I spent so much of my life trying to be him, or at least, tryi
ng to be what he wanted me to be. I don't know when he stopped being my dad and became someone so unhappy. You wanna know what he said the first time he ever saw my sketches?"
His lips curved up sadly and he waited for me to tell him the answer.
"He told me to stop doodling and do my homework," I laughed bitterly and shook my head. "I thought he was gonna disown me when I quit Duke. God, he was so disappointed in me, but I just wish I'd pushed harder in the beginning for rehab or more counseling or something. I mean, how many times did we bring him home from bars? I think I lost count after a while. I just didn't want him to lose his job and I didn't want him to lose what little dignity he had left. I was just stupid and scared and I hate that it took something so scary and so terrible for both of us to finally snap out of it."
My eyes fell to the faint scar in the middle of my left hand and squeezed shut at the memory of what had finally pushed my dad into his first rehab stint. In all the years since it happened, we'd only talked about it once in family counseling together. My dad had wept on the couch, held his head in his hands, and begged me to forgive him for both the physical and emotional attack. I'd forgiven him a long time ago, but the memory still left an ugly scar. Just like pretty much everything in my life.
"You did the best you could, Iz," Caleb told me hoarsely.
"I know it's not going to change things now," I pushed on softly. "He tried so hard. He really did. He knew things had to change, but it was just too late. I guess I should just be grateful for the time I did get with him."
I felt him nod into my hair and press his mouth into the side of my head.
"That's the way it should be, Iz."
Every time that nickname rolled off his lips, I just wanted to lean in closer. I wanted to be in deeper. There was something else, too. Something hovering beneath the surface I hadn't let myself acknowledge outright because it was always so damn painful when I did. But with him sitting here, holding me like this, comforting me like this...and then my eyes fell to those three letters inked on his wrist.
