by K. Ryan
I shook my head immediately, acutely aware that Isabelle had slipped underneath my arm on one side and that Saul stood his ground on the other so that they flanked me on both sides in a show of solidarity.
"I'm not gonna do that," I shrugged as my mom's face crumbled in a predictable mixture of disappointment, animosity, and worry. "I'm sorry. I just can't. The second I step foot in the clubhouse is the second I throw away everything I've built here and I'm not giving that up."
My mom stepped forward again to make her point. "But, Caleb, this isn't gonna stop. He's not gonna stop. You're both lucky as shit to be in one piece."
"I can handle it," I shot back and Isabelle's arm tightened around my waist.
"You're tellin' me you don't care that Isabelle could've gotten hurt? That she could've gotten shot?"
"Of course I care," I growled and pulled Isabelle closer to me just to reiterate my point. Just the thought of how this night could've ended differently had my blood boiling, but acting on that wouldn't help either. "Going after Wallace now isn't gonna do anything but throw more gasoline on the fire. Besides, I don't have a place at that table anymore. I think we've all made that pretty clear."
Her black eyes narrowed dangerously and in a flash, softened when they darted over to Isabelle.
"It's good to see you two back together," she murmured. "At least one good thing came out of all this stupid shit."
I sidestepped that comment and moved on. "I appreciate you coming down here. I really do, but I got it from here. You have your mess to clean up and so do I. Let's just leave it at that."
My mom stared at me for a moment and after her eyes flicked back to Isabelle one more time, she nodded tightly before turning on her heel to head back to the parking lot. Dom shot me a quick, uneasy smile and followed suit, falling in line like a good soldier.
I didn't waste any time to get this moving and turned to the rest of the crowd still standing here in the wreckage—my guys from the shop, Saul, Sam, and finally, Isabelle—and gestured with my head to the exit.
"I think everybody just needs to head out for the night. It's late and there's nothing we can do right now. I'll touch base with you all in the morning, okay? Just...just go home."
Luckily, all my guys knew me well enough to know when to argue and now was not one of those times. They shuffled out of my shop one by one and headed off into the night.
I nodded to Jared, who was still standing there waiting for some more instructions. "Take Iz and Sam home, alright?"
Jared and Sam moved for the exit, but Isabelle stayed right where she was and I geared myself up for that stubborn streak to rear its ugly head.
"Iz—"
"I'm not leaving you tonight," she shook her head furiously and folded her arms across her chest. "And you can't stay here either. Please tell me you're not planning on staying here for the rest of the night."
I glanced wearily at Saul, who just nodded. "I'll crash at Saul's place tonight."
"Fine," she shrugged. "Then I'm coming with you."
"No, Iz," I sighed and rubbed a hand over my mouth. "You can't. Not after what happened tonight. It's not safe for you to be around me right now. Jared's gonna stay at the house tonight with you guys, Trent'll be there in the morning, and Dylan'll be there tomorrow night. That's just the way it's gotta be."
Her mouth opened and closed, but that was as far as she got. I could see the wheels in her head turning, trying to narrow in on the best, most logical argument, but coming up empty. She wasn't going to win this one.
"Caleb—"
"I'm not gonna argue with you," I lifted a shoulder and gently pushed her toward her dad. "You can't stay here, Iz, and I think we need to keep our distance for awhile."
As much as the idea of putting any space between us stung, when we'd finally just begun to gain some ground, my hands were tied. I wouldn't risk her safety again and if keeping her safe meant keeping her away from me, then so be it.
Her eyes clouded over, watery and filled with grim understanding. Finally, she nodded and let her dad take her by the elbow to lead her out of my shop and somewhere she'd actually be safe.
. . .
With one deep breath and a long exhale out, my eyes just about rolled into the back of my head as my body relaxed in a way only nicotine could provide. This light-headed buzz was probably the only thing clearing my head of all the dark thoughts bouncing around in there and I kept my pen moving against the paper as I leaned back against the building from my spot on the pavement.
Hey Iz,
I think I'm handling this shit a lot better than I would've in my past life. Back then, I probably would've gotten onto my bike, hauled ass to wherever Wallace was and went in with guns blazing without stopping to even think about what might happen next. Now I know better and I also know that's a pretty stupid way to get myself killed.
Everything I'm feeling right now, anger, frustration, desperation, those are all emotions Wallace wants me to feel, what I know the club feels too. If they want to retaliate, if they see the attacks on both our shops tonight as an act of war, that's their problem. No good can come from war, especially since the end result would just be a pile-up of blood, dead bodies, and more prison sentences.
All my work, all my plans, all my time, money, and energy spent on building a different kind of life—it couldn't have been for nothing. I won't let Wallace take it from me.
I just don't know where to go from here. How can I even begin to bounce back from this kind of destruction, Iz? I'm already hundreds of thousands in the red and that's even without whatever payout I'll get from my insurance. At this point, it makes more financial sense to just close the fucking place and start over, but then Wallace wins.
I can make it work. I just need to figure it out first.
A noise to my left shook me out of my revelry and my eyebrows flew into my forehead when I saw Saul holding the shop's back door open for Isabelle. For a second, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Here I'd been, writing to her, conjuring her in my mind like she was sitting here listening to me, and now my eyes snapped to the cigarette in my hand. I immediately flung the burning cherry into the pavement, cursing under my breath. Isabelle catching me red-handed wasn't exactly on my to-do list today.
My next move was to snap my notebook closed as she slid down on the pavement next to me. Her eyebrows shot up at the movement, but she didn't press the issue. We had more important things to discuss right now.
"What're you doing here, Iz? I'm pretty sure I told you to stay away for awhile."
She just shrugged. "I didn't want to stay away."
I shot her an exasperated glance and shook my head. "Well, congratulations. Now I have to kill Trent for bringing you back here."
Her light laugh split through the night air and I found myself shifting closer to her, even though I knew I was supposed to be keeping my distance.
"Oh, he followed his orders 'til the very end. It didn't matter how much I begged and pleaded with him. He never backed down. He even chased me out of the house when the cab got there, so I'll happily take the blame."
Part of me really wanted to be angry, if not at least a little annoyed, that she'd blatantly disregarded her own safety in coming back. The other part of me, the part surging with disbelief and happiness that she wanted to be here with me, won out instead.
So I did the only thing I could and wrapped an arm around her shoulders to tuck her in even closer to me.
"The shop looks a million times better already," she mused quietly and leaned her head against my shoulder as she spoke.
I sighed and squeezed my eyes shut. Most of the destroyed projects and equipment had been covered and pushed to one side of the shop—out of sight, out of mind, right? The rest of the damage, the stray bullets, the shattered glass, crushed metal, and all the trash had been swept into various piles in the shop, but that still didn't change anything. The damage was still done and I was still screwed for the time being.
"You know," Is
abelle's soft voice pressed on. "Those guys are pretty loyal to you, aren't they?"
"Yeah," I shrugged. "They are. I also pay them pretty well, so there's that. Or I guess, I did pay them pretty well."
Darkness clouded my vision for a short moment and she slid an arm around my waist.
"No, I think it's more than that. The way they all dropped everything to get here last night, all the work they did for you today just to help you any way they could, or even them even agreeing to babysit me and my dad in the first place...they love you, Caleb. That's why they're so loyal. And you now, when you think about it, you're kind of like a family, aren't you? The way you look out for each other?"
There were so many connections brewing underneath everything she said that I wasn't sure I liked. From her perspective, all I was missing now was a chair at the head of a certain table, a gavel, and a leather cut.
"It's not a bad thing," she told me like she'd just read my mind. "I think you just figured out a way to create what you were always missing with the club and you did it on your own terms."
"I never thought of it like that before," I laughed, but the truth of her words hit home in a way I hadn't expected.
My eyes shifted down to the pavement in thought and I blew out a rough breath. All that loyalty and now I bet they were all wishing they'd hitched their wagon to a different kind of horse. Namely, one that didn't have irreparable ties to outlaw organizations.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" Isabelle's quiet voice called out to me.
Glancing at her out of the corner of my eye, my lips lifted into a small smile at her words. Just having her here next to me while I worked all this shit out was enough, but I wasn't stupid enough to turn down this opportunity.
"Where to start, right?" I chuckled lamely, but she still smiled sympathetically back at me. "I've spent all this time working toward one thing—one fucking thing—and I feel like it all went up in flames last night."
"How bad is it?"
"I don't really know," I sighed and tilted my head up to look at the night sky before glancing back at her again. "I mean, I'll figure something out, but what I'm really worried about is how long it's gonna take. And now I can forget all those big plans I had for expanding. That's not even the half of it though. It's everything else—all the business I lost last night, all the customers who aren't going to trust me anymore, those are the things I might never be able to get back. Honestly, Iz, that scares the shit out of me."
Isabelle's eyes, soft and warm, seared right through me and when she leaned her head into my shoulder and slid both hands around my waist to give me what I needed right now, I could've thrown my head back and cried with relief.
"I'm so sorry, Caleb," she whispered.
"Thanks, Iz," I tilted my head to press a kiss into her forehead. "I just appreciate you being here like this. It's not like there's much you can do about it."
I trailed off when Isabelle's head suddenly shot off my shoulder. Her eyes were shining and she was practically beaming up at me, bursting with whatever it was that had suddenly come over her.
"I think I can help you a little bit."
I barked out a laugh. "What do you mean?"
She dug a hand into her purse and handed me some thick, folded papers without another word. I took them from her, frowning down at the papers in my hand, and when I skimmed the first page, I shook my head because my brain just couldn't catch up. It was all here in black and white and the contract was pretty cut and dry, too, from what I could tell, but it still just didn't compute.
"So," Isabelle laughed at my confusion, a gorgeous, happy smile playing on her lips. "How does it feel to be an owner of two point five percent of The Warehouse? You bought a house without telling me, helped my dad pay for his house without telling me, so I figured I was well within my rights to do this without telling you."
I'd stood here for the last hour trying to figure out how in the hell I was going to dig myself out of this mess and then Isabelle showed up, like a fucking angel, and just dropped this on my lap like it was no big deal. Like offering this to me was just all in a day's work. God, I loved her.
When I didn't immediately respond, she must have charged right into damage control mode. "I know it's not that much in the grand scheme of things and it's probably not even something you really want, but I just wanted to—"
"Iz."
Whether she heard me and chose to ignore me or was just too wrapped up in convincing me this was a good idea, she just kept right on going: "—do something to help you. The Warehouse has been doing really well the last couple of years and I know it won't make up for all the money you lost last night—"
"Iz," I tried again, tugging on her hands to get her attention with a grin.
"—but you have all the paperwork you need. It's got all my earnings detailed there from when I bought my five percent, and since I'm splitting it with you now..." she paused only when I kept playfully tugging on her hands to force her to stop talking. "What?"
My lips curved up into a smile now that I finally had her attention. But the next words that fell out of my mouth were not the ones I'd initially intended.
"I love you."
My eyes widened as my words caught up to my brain and Isabelle tensed, staring back up at me with a stunned expression written across her beautiful features. She should know that my feelings for her had never changed; in fact, they'd only gotten stronger. All that mattered now was that I'd finally said it and she'd finally heard it.
Whether or not she had the response I wanted to hear was up to her.
I could wait.
I would wait.
So when her eyes softened and she swallowed back whatever it was she might've said, I figured that might be as good as I was going to get right now. All I could do was tuck a stray piece of blonde hair back behind her ear and lean forward to press my lips into her softer ones.
What I hadn't expected was for her to respond the way she did. Her hands slid up from around my waist to wind around my neck with her thumbs brushing the stubble on my cheeks as my lips continued to move over hers. When she parted her lips just enough, I didn't hesitate to take the opportunity she was offering and slipped my tongue inside her sweet mouth, taking just as much as I was being given.
Not wanting to push her too far, I leaned back, but kept a hand on her face just for good measure.
"So," I murmured as my thumb brushed her cheek. "Tell me everything."
. . .
Isabelle
"Well," Saul mused as he flipped through the rest of the paperwork. "Seems like a fair deal, boss."
Caleb bumped my shoulder with his and cocked a grin at me. "Of course it is."
About three hours ago, I'd been pacing my dad's office under the watchful eyes of both Trent and my dog, driving myself and everyone else around me insane. Now, I found myself in the exact position I'd been trying to avoid in the first place: helplessly and hopelessly free-falling.
The moment of reality of Caleb's business problems sunk in was the moment I made a split-second decision to help. It was just like a reflex. Like it was just instinct to jump to help him. All his hard work, all his plans, all his sacrifices—he didn't deserve to forfeit them now.
"Whew," Saul whistled when he turned the next page. "You really weren't kidding. That's some yearly income you guys got there."
That got Caleb's attention and he leaned forward as Saul just held up the report my PR rep had sent me and pointed to a number he'd circled. Once the number registered and the shock wore off, his eyebrows shot up into his forehead.
"Holy shit," Caleb exhaled as he fell back against the desk. "I knew your gallery was doing well, but I didn't know it was doing that well."
"We've had a good couple of years," I shrugged as nonchalantly as I could. "It's not like splitting that with you will really help all that much, but I don't know. I just wanted to help somehow."
Now I felt a little stupid about the whole thing—whatever he decided to do with
that tiny percentage of the gallery, it wouldn't be enough to even cover a fraction of the rebuilding he needed to do. There was just literally nothing else I had to offer and I'd offered it willing without a second thought.
"This'll help," Saul nodded to the papers. "From what I can tell, the gallery sponsors, what, at least one show a week?"
"Sometimes two on the weekend," I clarified.
"So," he nodded. "Caleb'll get a little commission from every show the gallery sponsors, just like you do, and from the looks of it, that will probably keep us afloat for now until that insurance check comes in."
"It won't make up for all the business you've already lost," I told them softly.
Saul glanced at Caleb out of the corner of his eye and shrugged. "Maybe this is just the old accountant in me talking, but I think you gotta take help anywhere you can get it right now. Sign the papers, boss."
I was still waiting for Caleb to refuse, to tear up the paperwork and tell me he wouldn't take my money or my contribution because he needed to earn his money on his own. Instead, he was still staring at me with such awe, such surprise, such love. While it was exactly the reaction I'd wanted, now that I had it, I didn't know what to do with it. And so I backpedalled.
"I don't want you to feel like you have to do this," I told him carefully and swallowed tight when he shifted on the desk to frown at me. "I mean, it's okay if you want to look into other options. I sort of sprung this on you and..."
I trailed off, unable to figure out what I really wanted to say or why I wanted to say it in the first place. Underneath everything else, I just didn't want to make him feel like less than because he was taking my help.
Saul's eyebrows shot up into his forehead and promptly shoved the papers back at Caleb as he turned to head back to the door. "I think I'll, uh, just give you two some time to talk this over."
When Saul shut the door behind him, a few long moments of silence passed between us before Caleb's quiet voice called out to me.