by K. Ryan
"Hello?" she answered.
I leaned forward to watch her more carefully as she listened to whoever was on the phone and my eyes narrowed when I saw her bite down hard on her bottom lip.
"Sure," she said into the phone. "Just give me a few minutes, alright? Stay there."
The second she tossed her phone back into her purse and smiled tightly as if to say everything was fine.
I knew everything wasn't fine.
"I have to get going," Isabelle murmured softly as she rummaged around in her purse, producing her wallet and motioning for the bill.
"Hey," I interjected quickly, digging into my back pocket for some money. "Don't worry about it. I told ya I'd get the next pot and another slice of pie anyways."
"No, you don't have to do that, Caleb. I was here first anyways," she glanced back up at me and the agitation and anxiousness swept off her in waves.
"You can get the next one. How 'bout that?" I offered, trying to be helpful, but I still felt like I was failing miserably. It wasn't like I expected her to tell me what was going on, but it would be a hell of a lot easier to help her if I knew.
She smiled tensely and then finally nodded. "Okay. Thanks, Caleb."
"Everything alright, Iz?"
The question hung in the air and she stilled again at those words. I had to ask it. If something was going on and she needed help, I had to let her know it was okay to tell me. A moment later, I watched her shake her head and put on a brave face.
"Everything's fine, Caleb. Seriously."
I knew what that really meant. It was written all over her face. I absolutely hated that word...fine.
As she slid out of the booth with a murmured goodbye and another thank you, I almost stopped her. I almost pulled her back so I could find out what the hell was really going on with her. But then again, if she wanted my help, wouldn't she have asked for it? I'd backed her up before. Wouldn't she know I'd do it again?
It wasn't until she'd pulled out of the parking lot that I finally finished my coffee and stood to leave, shaking off the uneasiness that almost had me sprinting out of the restaurant to chase after her.
Even as I swung my leg over my bike and started her engine, all I could think about was how in the hell Isabelle Martin had gotten so far under my skin.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Unlucky Spur
Isabelle
Standing by the bar with my friends by my side and my boyfriend's arm around my waist should have put me at ease. I should have been taking the drink Brandon handed me simply because it was a Friday night and because I wanted to have fun, not because I needed to calm my nerves instead.
It wasn't like anything had gone down between the two very separate groups on either side of me...yet.
The potential was there and that's all that really mattered.
Caleb and Brandon wisely kept their distance from each other, with each one on opposite sides of our disjointed group assembled around the bar at Graffiti's. Brandon's friends, and remnants of high school, kept to the right and the Horsemen stayed to the left. With each second that ticked by, I was seriously regretting ever agreeing to this. Who in the hell thought this was a good idea?
Oh right. Me.
Goddammit.
My eyes flicked to Becca, who was grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary. At some point, though, the other shoe was going to drop. It had to happen sometime. Lexie was warily eyeing Travis, Brandon's slightly overweight buddy who thought it was a good idea to jump the trashcan. Dominic and Eli looked bored out of their minds while Brandon and his friends laughed nonsensically over something I hadn't been paying attention to.
Because he'd done a pretty good job keeping himself carefully out of sight, Caleb was a bit of an enigma. And that was completely fine with me.
"Hey, babe!" Brandon practically yelled in my ear, despite the fact that he was standing right next to me. "Did you see that? That was awesome!"
"No, I didn't," I managed to push out through gritted teeth. I was too busy swallowing back a panic attack to give two shits about what was so funny.
Brandon slung an arm around my shoulders and drew me flush against him. "Don't worry about it, babe. It was so awesome though. Trav almost made it all the way over and..."
At that point, I wearily tuned him out. It wasn't so much out of disinterest, but more like self-preservation. Unfortunately, though, my eyes drifted over to my left and caught Lexie mirthlessly roll her eyes and Dominic shake his head, disgust curling his lips.
This was not going well.
Of course, it didn't help that I flinched when Brandon's fingers rested dangerously close to the space where my shirt ended and my jeans began. Maybe I shouldn't have worn something that skimmed the edge between sexy and flirty—so much for trying to look nice if he was going to get all handsy in public like this. Luckily, Brandon didn't seem to notice my agitation and kept his fingers splayed lazily across my skin.
The jury was still out on whether or not that was lucky. Probably not.
"Babe," Brandon whispered in my ear. "You alright?"
So scratch that about him not noticing.
"Everything's fine. Why wouldn't it be?" I replied a little too quickly.
A flicker of recognition passed through his eyes and I had a moment of panic. Any reaction, or overreaction, to my frustration was only going to make an already-deteriorating situation worse and my eyes, as if they had a mind of their own, flicked to my left only to find a particularly brooding biker glaring right in my direction.
Crap.
"You sure?" Brandon murmured, his breath tickling my ear and reeking of beer.
He leaned lower to press a sloppy kiss on my cheek without so much as a second's warning. Sheer willpower alone keep me from wiping it right off in response. I'd forgotten what he was like when he was this drunk and stupid. Many, many nights of high school nightmares past came flitting back to me and for a fleeting moment, I considered telling him that no, everything was not fine. I was close to freaking out—that's how fine I was.
So instead of doing what I wanted to do, I just nodded into his shoulder, purposefully avoiding his eyes and keeping my chin down. When his arm just pulled me in tighter, I knew I was in the clear for now.
When someone tugged on Brandon's collar to yank him away, I took a careful step back and threw a cautious glance to my left yet again, only to collide with the Caleb's eyes, which looked more like lethal bottomless pits than actual eyes. The sheer weight of it froze me in place until a hand shook me out of my trance.
"Hey, babe?" Again, Brandon didn't wait for me to answer. "Grant just called and said some people are going over to Shark's right now. You ready to go?"
It took me a moment to process what he was asking, or rather telling me.
"What? Um..." I glanced over to the other side of the bar and found Becca narrowing her eyes at the back of Brandon's head. "What's wrong with staying here for awhile?"
Brandon just shrugged. "Everyone's gonna go to Shark's anyways. We usually can get a booth and a pool table all to ourselves. Besides, this place is getting a little crowded if you know what I mean."
I knew exactly what he meant. Even though his reasons for wanting to leave weren't wholly unreasonable, that still didn't stop the uneasiness from creeping up the back of my neck at the prospect of leaving with him and leaving everyone to my left behind. Something told me it was time to finally listen to that intuition.
"I think I might stay here for awhile. At least until everyone else wants to leave and then I'll come meet up with you."
The words hung in the air for a moment too long and then Brandon just shrugged again.
"Alright, cool. If that's what you wanna do. Why don't you just give me a call when you leave here?"
"Okay."
He grinned down at me, having assessed the situation and found everything to be just fine. Then he leaned down and kissed me. But it wasn't a quick, see-ya-later-babe kiss. It was a hard, territorial kiss.
He wrapped his arms around me in a goodbye hug, which, at least, gave me room to hide my eye roll, and then he headed for the door with his posse of annoying immaturity trailing behind him.
I didn't want to look to the left. I really didn't. But like stupid magnets, my eyes flicked there anyways and the expression in Caleb's eyes had shifted from dark to menacing. I swallowed nervously and edged back to my seat by the bar, hoping no one noticed how close I was to high-tailing it to the bathroom.
Becca was at my side in a matter of nanoseconds.
"Hey," she murmured lowly. "Brandon seriously just left? Is everything alright, Belle?"
Knee-jerk reaction, not to mention self-preservation, kicked in almost immediately.
"Yeah, all his friends just wanted to head somewhere else for awhile," I told her, even though part of me had no idea why I was defending Brandon. "I'll probably meet up with them later when you guys decide to head back to the clubhouse."
Right. Because there was nothing wrong with the fact that I was totally okay with my boyfriend leaving without me and going to another bar to do God knows what with his friends.
Yeah, that was normal.
Becca's eyes narrowed ever so slightly and then Lexie flanked the other side.
"I hate to say it," Lexie muttered under her breath. "But I'm kinda glad those guys are gone. No offense, Isabelle, but I'm not sure how much more of that I could take."
I just waved a hand. "Don't worry about it. It's not a big deal. I'll meet up with him later."
"Okay," Lexie replied, her voice hesitating a little with each syllable. "Should we hit up the jukebox or something? I kinda feel like dancing."
"Let's do it!" Becca called out over the escalating noise of the crowd and she grabbed for our arms to drag us over there.
"Hey, just hold on," I grunted. "I'll be right over. I think I need another drink."
When I finally had a little space to breathe by the bar, some of my tension uncoiled, slipping away with each inhale. And then I felt an elbow nudge me in the arm. I didn't even need to turn to know who was behind it.
"So."
Caleb was leaning an elbow lazily on the bar counter, his lips twisting in that cocky, confident smirk I knew so well.
And then a funny thing happened.
My heart fluttered, spiking with nervousness, but, at the exact same time, a rush of calm flushed right through me. How was it possible to be agitated and relaxed at the exact same time? I was pretty sure it wasn't physically possible, but yet...there it was. Rushing and twisting, bending and soothing all at the same time.
"So," I prompted, playfully lifting an eyebrow as I spoke. It was the only real defense mechanism I had left to play.
"Dickhead's gone," Caleb stated, his eyes sparkling conspiratorially.
"Uh huh."
"And you're still here."
"Very good, Caleb. I see you've been paying attention."
He grinned appreciatively and nodded. "Thanks, Iz. I'm glad someone noticed I'm not a complete idiot and no, you can't comment on that one. Anyways...where was I?" He tapped his chin in thought. "Oh right! Douchehole is currently MIA. You're still here."
"Your point?"
He wasn't fazed by my incisive tone.
"How 'bout a drink, Iz? You sure look like you could use one."
Caleb didn't wait for a response. Instead, he waved the bartender over with one hand and dug into his back pocket with the other. After we each gave our orders, a grin tugged up my face, the first genuine smile I'd felt all night.
He just draped an arm easily over my shoulder, like he'd been doing it for years and I practically shivered under his touch. There was seriously something wrong with the fact that the guy I was seeing and who definitely wasn't Caleb just had his hands on me literally minutes ago and I'd flinched at his touch, but yet I practically vibrated with electricity when Caleb just had his arm grazing my shoulders...again, not the guy I was seeing.
Our drinks arrived promptly; that kind of speedy service was one of the perks of being here with the Horsemen, and Caleb's arm slipped down from my shoulders to grab his drink. Some distance between us was probably for the best right now, but a part of me still mourned losing the warmth of his tattooed arm against my skin.
What the hell was my problem tonight?
Just as I was about to reach for my drink, my phone buzzed from deep within the folds of my purse. It was probably Brandon—either he was groveling or trying to convince me to head to that bar. Neither one of those options was really an appealing choice, but when an unknown number flashed across my screen, my mouth dipped into a frown.
"Everything alright, Iz?" Caleb's expression seemed to mirror mine.
"Yeah, I think so. I just don't recognize this number is all," I just shrugged as I swiped across the screen to answer.
"Hello?" I answered, acutely aware that Caleb's attention rested firmly on this impending conversation.
"Is this Isabelle? Sam's daughter?" An unfamiliar voice asked over the other line.
My eyes instinctively squeezed shut. "Yeah?"
"This is Jim down at The Lucky Spur. Yeah, uh, you gotta get down here and get your dad. He's passed out in the men's bathroom right now and I'm havin' troubles gettin' him up and outta my bar."
"What?" I couldn't hide the turmoil in my voice.
Getting a phone call saying my dad was at The Lucky Spur wasn't necessarily anything new, but getting a call from the bartender definitely was. A thousand possibilities, each of them equally horrific, flashed through my mind and it didn't matter that Caleb tensed next to me.
"Look," Jim continued pointedly. "The only reason I haven't called the cops yet is because I know he's going through some shit, but you gotta get him out of here. I'll give you 15 minutes, alright?"
"Sure," I nodded to no one in particular. "Thank you so much for calling. I'll be right over."
Before I even had a chance to slide off the barstool, Caleb's fingers closed around my wrist to stop me.
"Hey," Caleb's eyes brimmed with concern. "What's goin' on? And if you say everything's fine, I'm gonna tear my hair out or somethin'."
I wanted to laugh at that last part. How many times had I thought that exact same thing?
But this was no laughing matter and the narrowed eyes and clenched jaw signaled that Caleb wouldn't just let this go. There wasn't any time to weigh options or consequences, but still, I had to make a choice. When I glanced up at Caleb again, he was clearly on edge, but it was out of concern for me and that was enough to force my hand.
"That was the bartender at The Lucky Spur," I barely recognized the sound of my own voice. "He said I need to come pick up my dad."
Caleb didn't flinch at that revelation. His forehead creased almost imperceptibly, but that was the only moment anything like confusion flickered across his face. Instead, when he stared back at me now, the moment all the pieces clicked into place for him nearly had my knees buckling into the floor.
"Alright," he murmured hoarsely. "Let's go."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Mirror
Caleb
When she started shaking her head, at first, I couldn't comprehend the motion, especially since I hadn't really asked her—I'd told her. It didn't matter that we were in a crowded bar with our friends. She couldn't just brush this off like it never happened and like I never heard it.
"Caleb," she started, her voice shaking and the sound just set me even more on edge. "You don't have to do that. I can handle it by myself."
"Maybe you can, but that doesn't mean you should," I pointed out. "I'm not gonna take no for an answer and let you go over there by yourself. You don't know what you're walkin' into if the bartender had to call you."
I paused for a second to gauge her reaction. The resolve and the steel behind her eyes confirmed this wasn't the first time she'd gotten a call like this, but when her chin dipped down in a nod, I figured that was probably as good as I was going to get. Her mysterious phone call the night before su
ddenly made sense and now, I just felt like the biggest asshole in all of North and South Carolina combined. I never should have let her walk out of the diner last night and I sure as shit wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.
"So, here's what we're gonna do," I pressed forward and hoped she'd actually let me take over from here. "You're gonna go tell Becca you're gonna meet Assface at that bar and I'm gonna tell Dom I'm headin' back to the clubhouse. Then you're gonna get on the back of my bike, whether you like it or not, and we're goin' over to The Lucky Spur to pick up your dad. He's got his car over there, right?"
She nodded. "Yeah."
"Okay, then we'll get him in his car. You'll drive it back to your house and I'll follow you."
Before she could protest, my hand reached out to her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. All I needed was for her to relent just enough so I could get her out of here. The longer we waited, the longer it would take to figure out what the hell was going on with Isabelle's dad and how long she'd been dealing with it on her own.
Isabelle seemed to register what I wanted her to do and even though it took longer than I would've liked, she nodded to affirm the plan. Whatever the reason she'd finally agreed, the crowd, the time constraints, or my instructions, I was just grateful for the quick turnaround.
"Alright," I kept my hand on her shoulder just for good measure. "Go talk to Becca. I'll talk to Dom and I'll meet you outside by my bike, okay?"
After she nodded blankly and pushed her way into the crowd in search of Becca, my eyes carefully followed her until I was sure she was actually talking to Becca. Dom wasn't hard to find at the bar because the people here seemed to innately know to give our cuts some space and I easily strode up to the counter, wasting no time.