by K. Ryan
"That's a nice dog you got there," Saul smiled at me, glancing down briefly at my dog before shifting his gaze back at the road.
"Yeah, he is. Thanks," and now, seeing as how we'd been on the road for a few minutes, I figured it was as good a time as any to start getting some answers. "So you and Caleb had this planned? If anyone—"
"Like I said," Saul just shrugged. "This is a precaution. He's not taking any chances when it comes to you and I can't blame him for that."
"Huh."
Something told me that was about all I'd get from him on that subject.
"Yep," Saul replied a little too easily.
I guessed I was right.
"So, um," I tried again. At this point, small talk was the only thing keeping a panic attack at bay and if I had three in one day, I'd probably have to give my therapist a call. Not exactly on my list of things to do today. "What exactly do you do in Caleb's shop if you don't mind me asking?"
Saul shot me a knowing grin, but still answered good-naturedly, "Ah, you know, a little bit of everything, but I'm mostly his office manager and accountant. I used to do that in another life, so he pounced on that pretty quickly. I've been with him since the very beginning—the outlaw with the killer business plan, kinda hard to reconcile, right?"
"Right," I laughed. "I still don't understand how he did any of it."
"Your boy's smart, that's how," Saul told me with a firm nod. "I knew it from the very first time I met him. I said to myself, Now there's a punk-ass kid who just needs one opportunity...think of what he could do with it. I wasn't wrong."
I smiled softly. "No, you weren't. How did you meet him?"
Saul's eyes crinkled up at the sides, but there was a hardness in his eyes now that hadn't been there before. "Prison."
"Oh."
It was such a lame response, but I honestly couldn't think of anything else to say.
"I worked in the library," Saul clarified without offering up the answer to my silent question. "He started comin' in about six months into his sentence and I got him started on some of the classics like Twain, Malcolm X, Thoreau, Joyce...you know, that sort of thing."
"Wait a minute, wait a minute," I held up a hand just for emphasis. "Caleb was reading? In prison?"
I just couldn't wrap my head around it. Since when did he like to read anything? Let alone classic literature?
"Yeah," Saul shrugged like it was really no big deal. "Guys gotta find some way to pass the time when they're inside. For Caleb, it was going to the library and digging in a book."
"I just..." I trailed off, still feeling a little blindsided by all this. "I don't know. I have very clear memories of him cheating off me during our American Lit final."
Saul chuckled heartily and shook his head. "Yeah, that sounds like something he'd do. I bet he spent more time trying to look down your shirt than actually looking over your shoulder to see the answers, too."
Now it was my turn to laugh. "Oh, I don't know about that. He had a pretty serious girlfriend back then."
God, I felt like I'd lived this whole other life I'd completely forgotten about.
"Well," Saul went on. "I'm pretty sure that's water under the bridge for him now. You know, considering..."
He trailed off, glancing at me long enough to make me squirm in my seat. Then he threw some mercy my way and changed the subject.
"Anyway, he and I got to know each other in the library. He'd come in for another book recommendation and I'd help him study a little bit too. That's pretty much it."
"You helped him study?"
The only reason I knew Caleb had gotten his degree in prison was because my dad had mentioned it not-so-subtly in passing right after I'd found out he'd left the club and was starting his own bike shop. I'd also never really taken the time to think about what he'd done in prison or how he'd spent his time there because it was just easier not to think about him sitting there in a four-block cement cell. I would've known had I read his letters, but since that wasn't an option anymore, I'd have to settle for secondhand information.
"I did," Saul nodded.
"That was nice of you to help him."
A grim line spread across Saul's weathered face. "Gave me something to look forward to, you know?"
There were so many more questions bubbling up to the surface, but I just didn't want to make him uncomfortable by asking them, so I just chose to say nothing instead.
"Ah," Saul laughed, breaking this uneasy silence between us. "But you know, I think Caleb read just about every book in that library except Shakespeare. He hated Shakespeare, lemme tell ya."
I smiled as I imagined Caleb hunched over with something like Romeo and Juliet or Macbeth and huffing and puffing in frustration. Probably even tearing his hair out over it, too.
"I can already hear him complaining," I laughed and then dropped my tone to mimic Caleb's low voice. "Why can't they just speak goddamn English?"
A slow, sly smile spread across Saul's face and that glint in his dark eyes knocked me off-kilter for a second.
"You know, that's pretty much what he said. Word for word. You know him pretty well, don't you?"
"I used to," I smiled sadly.
He nodded as he pulled into my dad's parking lot and cut the engine on his car. "How long have you known him?"
I lifted a shoulder and sighed. "I feel like he's been in and out my life since we were kids."
It was so true it was terrifying. Caleb Sawyer had been a fixture in my life, whether I liked it or not, since we were practically in kindergarten. I didn't regret it, but it was disconcerting to think that one person held so much of my history, so much of my past, and now, here we were, right back where we started, but not necessarily better for it either.
"Well," Saul's deep, voice called out to me. "This is your stop. I hope it's okay, but I gotta stick close until I get the all clear from the boss. Well, even if it's not okay, I still gotta park it here anyway for awhile."
"It's okay," I told him as I stepped out of the car to let Cooper out. "I understand. Thank you, by the way."
"Sure," he nodded tightly. "And thank you, too."
I frowned back at him and leaned down to the window.
"For not asking me what I was in prison for," Saul clarified softly. "I know you wanted to, but didn't want to be rude. So thank you for that. That's...well, that's a story for another day. You know, I can see why he's never been able to shake you. Saw it the moment you stepped into our office a few weeks ago. You walk in a room and just light the whole place up. I think a guy would be an idiot not to reach out and try to catch some of that light."
My mouth opened to speak, but all I could come up with was: "Thanks, Saul."
"Don't mention it," he batted a hand out to me. "It's not everyday I get to chat up a famous artist from New York."
I just laughed and rolled my eyes. "Okay. Sure."
"I'm serious," he insisted and started humming something that sounded a little too much like that Frank Sinatra song about New York. "You've had how many shows now in that gallery...what's it called?"
"The Warehouse," I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Right, right. The Warehouse. Anyway—"
"Saul," I interrupted exasperatedly. "Would you like to come in? You're going to have to be here anyway. You might as well come in and watch the History channel with my dad or something."
His eyes lit up at the words History and channel and I knew it was all downhill from here.
. . .
About four hours later, I'd watched about as many episodes of American Pickers as I could stand. My dad and Saul, on the other hand, were relentlessly entertained. Still, it was nice to see my dad perking up a little as he discussed the pickers' latest conquest with our guest.
And I, unfortunately, was currently staring at the business card with Caleb's cell phone number written on the back. I just wanted to know if he was okay or at least, that was what I had to tell myself. He had to be okay—Saul was still here and nobody had tri
ed to contact him since he'd plopped down on our living room couch. But still, my fingers twitched against the kitchen table, where I sat like a crazy person just staring at those familiar chicken scratches on the back of the card.
Being with Caleb again felt like I'd been standing in the middle of a pitch black room and the moment he stood beside me was the moment the light in my world turned back on. Being with Caleb was also like speeding towards a brick wall. The high was exhilarating, all-consuming, and filled with the kind of fiery passion people only read about in books, but all that did was distract you from the inevitable.
The only way things could end with Caleb Sawyer was crashing and burning headfirst into that brick wall. I couldn't let myself forget that.
My dad called out to me over the blare of the TV, but how could I focus when half of me sat at this kitchen table and the other half was still inside Caleb's shop?
"Isabelle?"
My head shot up at my dad's voice, this time clearer and louder, and I found my dad, Saul, and Caleb all standing in the doorway, staring at me in varied degrees of confusion. Because I'd completely tuned everything else out, I hadn't even heard the doorbell ring.
Everything around me started moving at once. Saul waved good-bye to me from around Caleb and disappeared behind the front door. My dad and Caleb shook hands like they'd been friends for years.
I'd barely gotten a chance to shove the business card in my back pocket when Caleb strode into the kitchen with my dad and Cooper right behind him. He leaned up against the island and shoved his hands deep in his pockets.
"Hey, Iz," Caleb told me with a soft smile playing at his lips.
"Hi, Caleb. What are you—"
"I just wanted to make sure you were okay after everything that happened today," he glanced at my dad for a moment before shifting his gaze back to me.
My eyebrows shot up into my forehead. "I'm fine. But are you okay?"
A faint smile lifted his lips. "Yeah. I'm good. Look, we need to talk about Wallace."
"What did he want?"
"That's not really important right now," he shrugged stiffly and the tension was written all over his face. He was trying to put up the front like everything was fine, but it wasn't. "What matters is that I need to keep some eyes on you right now."
I opened my mouth to protest, but he just shook his head.
"I'm sorry it has to be this way," he informed me grimly. "But I'm just not going to take any chances here."
Saul's words to me earlier echoed in my head and I squeezed my eyes shut.
"Wallace isn't going to back down, at least not until he gets what he wants," Caleb went on and glanced at my dad, who'd sunk down into the chair next to me at the table.
My dad cleared his throat next to me. "And he knows who Isabelle is to you?"
The fact that my dad spoke in present tense wasn't lost on anyone in the room, but Caleb just nodded.
"How much danger is she in?" my dad asked in a scarily calm voice. Why wasn't he more worried about this?
"I'd like to believe he wouldn't try anything with Iz or Lex and Chloe or anybody else who's connected to the club for that matter," Caleb told him. "But I'm not gonna put it past him either. He's out for blood and I'm not trying to scare you guys, but Iz can't just sit here unprotected by herself anymore. It's not worth the risk. He's less likely to do something if she's got someone with her at all times."
"I'm sitting right here, you know," I practically growled, my eyes shifting angrily from both men in the room. "You guys could at least acknowledge I'm in the room."
Caleb's eyes flicked to me and the grim seriousness I found there was something I wasn't used to seeing. "Sorry, Iz. I didn't mean it like that. I just—"
"I know," I grumbled.
His eyes softened and his head tilted to the side as he shifted against the island. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, okay?"
I swallowed back the lump in my throat and despite everything, I didn't doubt him for a second.
"I know," I told him softly.
His lips curved up just enough to make me want to hop off my chair and run. Whether it was as far away from him as possible or right into his arms...the jury was unfortunately still out on that one.
Then my dad called out to Caleb in a hoarse voice, effectively breaking the spell.
"So what are you going to do?"
"My guys'll take shifts keeping an eye on your house while you're here and when you need to leave, someone'll drive you."
I blew out a deep breath. I hated this. Every single part of it. I'd only been back for a few weeks and already, I was sucked right back in. The danger, the violence—it was almost like I'd never left in the first place.
"I don't want—" I started, but Caleb cut me off.
"Well, Iz, the alternatives are either you stay in my apartment for awhile or you go back to New York until all this blows over. I don't think you wanna do either of those things, so this is just what you're going to have to deal with for now. It's all taken care of. Nobody'll ever get near you, Iz. I promise you that."
There was no point in arguing. If Wallace and the Warlords were really a threat, then I didn't want to be alone either. I wasn't crazy about all this damsel-in-distress shade they were throwing my way, but that was just the world we lived in right now.
I understood now why my dad wasn't barricading the windows or driving me to the airport right now. Because Caleb was calm, my dad was calm. Because Caleb was confident in his ability to protect me, so was my dad.
I was almost too afraid to ask, but the words fell from my lips anyway. "Who's got the first shift?"
His mouth quirked up. "Me."
Of course. Why would it be anyone else? I just rolled my eyes as my dad stood up from the table on shaky legs.
"That's good enough for me. I'm going to bed. I'll let you two kids hash it out for the night."
But when he took a tiny step away from the table, his legs swayed out from under him, threatening to topple him over, and both Caleb and I shot up to catch him before he fell. Caleb swung an arm around my dad's back to hoist him up and I slipped around the other side of him to grab hold of his arm.
"Sorry," he mumbled as he tried to catch his breath. "Too much excitement today, you know? All these visitors. I just need to lie down now."
"That's alright, Sam," Caleb told him and my head snapped in his direction. "Let me help you, okay?"
Sam? Since when were Caleb and my dad on friendly, first-name terms?
"No, no," my dad just shook us off and took a few more unsteady steps closer to the staircase. "I don't need help. I'm fine. Just stood up too fast is all."
Caleb's hands fell to his side and he shoved them deep inside his pockets again. All we could do was watch my dad shuffle out of the kitchen and struggle stubbornly up the stairs at a snail's pace.
"He never lets me help him up the stairs," I whispered to Caleb. "I hate watching this, but I can't help it, you know?"
Just then, my dad stumbled a little on a step and before I could stop myself, my left hand shot out to Caleb's forearm. It wouldn't help my dad, but it made me feel a little better just knowing Caleb was there, feeling his skin underneath my fingertips. Then my fingers slipped down even further until they curled around his palm. He froze for just a second at my touch, but recovered just as quickly when his thumb rubbed the top of my hand. I leaned into his shoulder, basking in his strength and his presence and his scent and I squeezed my eyes shut just to drink it all in.
When my dad's bedroom door closed for the night, I turned just enough to wrap my free arm around his shoulders so I could press my face into his broad chest. My other hand dropped to my side as Caleb wrapped both arms around me to pull me in even tighter, to do everything he could to protect me from what was happening around us.
"I'm so sorry, Iz," he murmured in my hair. "I wish there was something I could do to make all this better for you."
Just him being here was enough, but I didn't know ho
w to tell him that. I didn't know if I wanted to tell him that.
"Thank you," I whispered instead.
He leaned back and brought a hand up to my face so he could tuck some stray hair behind my ear. And then my lips parted and I let instinct take over. Something screamed at me that this would only make things worse, that I'd only get sucked in deeper, but I batted it down with a reckless hand.
"So I have this tradition."
Caleb cocked an eyebrow at me. "Okay."
"You remember what tomorrow is, right?"
He swallowed hard. "Yeah."
"Well, I always get really wasted the night before. I guess I just can't wait. Anyway, it's the one night out of the year I let myself get completely drunk and then I usually just sleep the whole next day away, which is kinda the point."
Given my family history with alcohol abuse and depression, I figured one night out of 365 wasn't so bad.
"Alright," his eyes narrowed a little.
"So what I'm asking is...do you wanna get wasted tonight?"
His eyebrows flew up into his forehead. "With you?"
"Yeah," I laughed. "Who else? Besides, it's no fun getting drunk by yourself. All I end up doing is crying and looking at pictures and crying some more."
He blew out a deep breath and his hands ghosted over my shoulders like he was holding me in place. "Kinda defeats the purpose of me being here to keep an eye on you, doesn't it? Besides, you, me, and alcohol probably aren't a good mix."
"Yeah," I mumbled to my feet. "I guess you're right."
He shot me that crooked grin anyway, the same one that made me weak in the knees, the same one that made me want to forget everything we'd been through, everything he'd put me through, and just give in already.
"But I'll tell you what. I'd hate for you to miss out on tradition just because of me. So if getting wasted tonight is really what you wanna do, then I'll happily keep you company."
A soft smile touched my lips. Yeah. I could live with that.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The Point of No Return
Caleb