by Blue Saffire
“Ye go hard of hearing?” Aunt Cass snaps at him.
He shrugs his shoulders. “No,” Braxton mumbles.
“Don’t be thinking yer britches are bigger than they be. I’ll beat the piss out of ye. Ye heard me, Aye?” Aunt Cass pauses to glare at Braxton. He nods his head and pouts. “So, get yer ass out of here.”
Braxton drags from out of his seat, looking at me as he collects his plate and cup of juice. I give him a small nod, letting him know I’m fine. He mutters something under his breath, but leaves before Aunt Cass can pounce on him.
“Ye will always have a protector in that one. If yer not careful, he aims to charm his way into yer heart,” Aunt Cass says, pulling my attention away from the back of a retreating Brax.
“Huh?” I knit my brows.
“None ye mind. Talk to me, Heather, what’s going on?” Aunt Cass says softly.
“I just wanted a change,” I whisper.
Her hazel eyes soften. “There will never be a day where I don’t question if I’ve done right by ye. A mother knows things. Ye are just like one of my own. I’ve always had the feeling ye needed me once and I wasn’t there.
“Tell me I’m not watching that happen again. I’d run through hell, blazing on fire for ye, just as I would me own. I give two fucks the size of yer giants, Heather, I’ll be David every time. Ye, hear me?” Aunt Cass says in the gentlest voice I’ve ever heard her use.
“I’m fine,” I repeat. With everything I have, I fight back my tears.
I love Aunt Cass to the moon and back. I know she means her words, but they’re just that, words. I’ve seen the actions of the monsters that haunt me. I would never ask her to face that for me.
The warm feeling, I had from earlier starts to melt away. My hope recedes as fast as it bloomed. Truth is, I know what my giants are capable of.
Aunt Cass gets up and moves closer. She runs her hand over my hair. Her eyes suspiciously moist.
“Yer a gorgeous girl. No matter what ye do to yerself. If ye promise yer fine, I will let it go,” Aunt Cass says with a plea in her voice.
“I promise,” I reply. Although secretly adding in my head, “I’m fine for now.”
Aunt Cass rolls her lips, before releasing a sigh. She tugs me into a hug, holding me so tight, I think her little arms are going to break me. I bury my face into her hair and inhale.
The familiar scent of baked goods and a Cassidy brand of love, help to bring back the warm, safe feeling from not too long ago. I tighten my hold on her, needing this hug more than ever. I already wish I could take today back.
Chapter 10
Talk To Me
Heather
I get the feeling Aunt Cass warned my dad about my hair. He hasn’t said a word about it this morning. The fact that he’s here is already odd. Dad usually works on Saturdays.
However, I woke to the smell of bacon and homemade strawberry waffles this morning. When I showered and came down for breakfast, I found Dad in the kitchen alone, sitting two plates on the table. His face was expressionless, as he took in my new haircut.
I sat down, waiting for him to explode, but it never came. He sat, tucking into his breakfast without a word. The room was silent, until I placed my fork on my empty plate.
“Let’s go for a ride,” Dad said with a warm smile on his face.
I couldn’t help the smile that took over mine. It’s been so long since Dad has had the time to take one of our road trips. Black and Lock has really taken off in the last seven years. Dad and Uncle Joe have been in high demand.
It feels like old times, as we ride up the road. Dad has old school R&B playing in the background and a smile on his face. We’ve talked about everything, but my new haircut.
When Dad turns off road, I look over at him curiously. He doesn’t say a word, he just continues to drive on the old dirt road. If my dad didn’t ooze safety and protectiveness, I would’ve started to panic.
When we reach an old cabin, Dad stops the truck and climbs out to stretch. We’ve been on the road most of the morning. It didn’t seem like it when we were driving.
I get out of the car and look around at all of the mountain tops. The place is breathtaking, peaceful. I inhale, letting my chest fill with the fresh air.
Hearing my dad rustling around in the truck bed, I turn, moving to the back of the truck to see what he’s up to. When I reach my Dad, his muscles are bulging from the large black cases he’s holding at his sides. I look at the cases, then back up at Dad. My brows furrow in question. He just gives me a nod to follow him. I shrug and do just that.
Dad walks around the cabin, to the backyard of the house. Yet, he doesn’t stop. We keep going, walking into a wooded area. With each step my curiosity rises.
We clear the woods and it all becomes a little clearer. Dad often likes to shoot a few rounds to blow off steam. I’ve never been up here before, but I know he goes out to shoot with my uncles Joe, Steve, and Chase often enough.
I get ready to take a seat on a nearby tree stomp, but my father’s voice interrupts my action. “Come over here with me for a bit,” Dad says.
I move to the makeshift table he has set the cases on. It’s like two long pieces of wood were nailed together and placed on top of wooden posts. It looks sturdy enough and seems to hold up under the heavy looking cases.
I move to Dad’s side, looking up at him. At first, he looks down at me, not saying a word. I can see sadness in his eyes as he looks back at me.
He reaches to brush a hand over my new haircut, the first time he has acknowledged it. Tugging me in for a hug, he kisses the top of my head. I wrap my arms around his middle, absorbing the hug.
“Talk to me, Kiddo,” he says, his voice choked-up. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I reply, pulling away slowly.
He seems to reluctantly release me. I watch the wheels turn in his head, while he studies my face. I do my best to keep anything from surfacing. After all, I’ve had years of practice.
“I still remember the day you were born like it was yesterday,” Dad says, his smile returning. “I swore I’d do anything I could to protect you. I wish it were as easy to keep that promise as it was to make it. I never thought your mother would walk away the way she did.
“I should’ve talked to you sooner about how that made you feel. If this is about her, tell me. We can figure things out,” Dad tries.
I frown, shaking my head. “I just wanted a change, Dad. It had nothing to do with her,” I shrug.
“How are things at school?”
I shrug again, leaning a hip up against the table. “It’s okay, I guess. My grades are good,” I reply.
“Are the other kids good to you,” Dad asks cautiously.
I give him a smirk. “Honestly Dad, if they weren’t, I wouldn’t give a shit.”
Dad throws his head back and laughs. “That’s my girl,” he chuckles, bringing me in for another hug, placing a kiss on my forehead. “In that case, I want to talk to you about a few things. Your mother hated when I used to rough house with you. I think every girl should be able to handle herself.”
Dad releases me, reaching to open one of the cases. My lips part when all of the guns inside come into view. I look up at my dad, then, back at the guns.
“You want to teach me to shoot?” I say softly.
“Your cousin, Bean is a better sniper than some of the men I’ve served with. I think it’s time to get you up to speed,” Dad replies.
I nod wordlessly. I can feel the sweat breakout on my forehead. I’m afraid of guns. I’ve seen what they can do. I’ve never thought to touch one.
Yes, I know Aunt Cass keeps two shotguns over the front door of the house. I’ve just never seen her use them. To me, they’ve been just as much decoration in the house as the drapes.
When dad reaches in, removing one of the pistols and a clip, I feel my palm drip with sweat, as they begin to shake. I’m not sure I want to do this. Sensing my hesitation, Dad puts down the gun, placing a han
d on my shoulder.
“We’ll take it slow. If you’re not comfortable doing this, we can work on some hand to hand combat for a bit,” Dad says to reassure me.
I bite my lip. “Okay,” I nod, blowing out a breath.
Dad picks the gun back up and walks me through loading it. When he places it in my hand, my hesitation begins to wean. The heavy metal brings an unexpected comfort.
Dad retrieves his own pistol from the case. He loads it, then aims at the targets already set up in the distance. I listen intently to his words.
“Guns don’t hurt people, but we can use them to hurt people. Don’t aim one of these things unless you’re ready to use it and to face the consequences of that action,” Dad says.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Saving your own life is always a good reason to use one,” Dad nods. “Now, I’m going to aim at the target and filter out everything else.”
I hold my breath when dad begins to let off a few rounds. He shoots right through the glass bottles, one by one. Not a shot wasted.
I’m in awe, my dad has always been my hero. Seeing him with the gun in his hand,—proving he knows how to use it,—fills me with a feeling I can’t quite describe just yet. I don’t realize I’ve stopped breathing, until his final shot rings out.
“You’re up, Kiddo. Just aim and shoot. No pressure,” Dad coaches.
I lick my dry lips, aiming the gun at the targets. I pull the trigger the first time and miss. My shoulders sag, I drop my hands to my sides, still gripping the gun in my fingers.
“Hey, that was just your first try. You got this, Heather. Come on, try again,” Dad says soothingly.
I nod, lifting my arms again, widening my stance. I focus on the glass bottle, blocking out everything but my dad. I listen as he quietly instructs me some more.
“That’s it, now squeeze,” Dad gives the soft command.
I do as he says, gasping when the first bottle shatters. I try again and the next one explodes before my eyes. I squeeze again and again.
I yelp with joy. Placing the gun on the table, I jump into my dad’s arms. I can finally place the feeling I have. It’s empowerment. I’ve never felt this empowered.
Suddenly, I can taste the promise Braxton and I made to each other, a few weeks ago. I push back that fear that has been gripping me for longer than I want to remember. Before, in my head, I could only see Eugene pulling the trigger on Skinny Man.
Now, my side having guns too has become a reality. Not only does it help to see my dad using a gun, but he’s offered me the chance to know how to use one myself. Which means, someday, I’ll be able to settle the score with Ernest.
I lick my lips, tasting the sweetest thought I’ve ever had. I don’t even realize how closely my father has been watching me, as I now bounce on my feet in front of him.
His eyes are dark. I begin to fidget, wondering if I’ve revealed too much. I turn back for the table and the gun, checking the clip to avoid my dad’s gaze.
“I’m always here to listen, Heather. All you have to do is talk to me,” Dad says to fill the growing silence.
“I know, Dad, I know,” I nod.
Chapter 11
Misconception
Heather
It’s been a month, since I cut all my hair off. I think I like the results. Instead of looking at me with drool hanging from the sides of their mouths, the boys at school look at me more like I’m crazy. I can live with that.
The last two weeks have been filled with things I can live with. I haven’t been this happy in a long time. I’ve switched my routine to go to the office after school.
If my dad isn’t busy, he joins me in the basement to shoot off a few rounds. It has become our thing, our time to bond. When he’s busy, I still hang out at the office, even joining in with the guys for basic training and some sparring.
I mostly spar with Braxton and Ryan. They were taking it easy on me at first, that is until I busted Brax’s lip. Since, he’s started to come at me with everything he has, pushing me to my limits.
I appreciate that. When we were young, all of the guys treated me like one of the guys. I hate that that’s changed because we’re older and now they see me as a girl. I’ve gotten stronger with each day.
The changes have brought so many things I’m grateful for. For four weeks, the boys at school have been avoiding me like the plague. I now get to hang with John, Felix, and Toby without being harassed. I love it.
Well, that was all until today. Today, I’m not too sure how I feel about anything. I’ve have been in the backyard, since I got home from school. I’m fuming.
I feel like my peace and happiness is always so short lived. The other shoe is always ready to drop right onto my head. All I want is to be a normal teenager. Why is that so hard?
“Yo,” a voice startles me from behind. I turn in the swing, I’m sitting on to see Wyatt entering the backyard.
He has on sunglasses, a white t-shirt, and grey sweat shorts. He looks like he’s on his way to the gym. Wyatt has filled out over the years. I see why he breaks so many hearts.
The smile that’s stretched across his handsome face drops, he rushes to get closer. He takes off his glasses, his concerned eyes search mine. Squatting in front of me, he taps my leg with his fingertips.
“What’s up? I heard you’ve been kicking ass. I came home to see it for myself. Your dad said you called, saying you weren’t in the mood to be at the office,” Wyatt says still watching me.
I shrug my shoulders. “Hard day,” I mumble.
Wyatt moves to sit on his backside. He nods, taking me in for a few beats. I start to fidget with the hem of my black skull covered grey t-shirt.
I look down at my khaki shorts and bike chains. The cruel words that haunted my day hit me square in the chest. I think they hurt more because they came from the one boy in school I actually had a crush on. I kick my Van covered foot at the dirt under my feet.
“Want to talk about it,” Wyatt says, breaking into my pity party.
I open my mouth to say, no, but I choke on the word. If I don’t talk to someone soon, I think I’ll explode. I don’t want to drag Wyatt into the drama that haunts my nightmares, but I need some of this pressure off of my chest.
I nod, but sit silently, thinking about what I want to share. I knit my brows, as a tear rolls free. I shrug it off, trying to play tough.
“I heard Terrance Miller telling some guys that I’m gay,” I mutter.
When I look up at Wyatt, his face is blank. My shoulders slump, I resign myself to the fact that to fix one problem, I’ve created another. The turmoil I feel inside almost drains me.
“I’m going to ask, because, well. I don’t want to assume shit. We’ve always treated you like one of the guys. You’re like a sister to me so I’ve never thought about it, but…” he shrugs his shoulders.
“No, Wyatt. I’m not gay,” I hiss.
He holds his hands up. “I wanted to ask first. Don’t bite my head off. I’ve never seen you with a guy and you seem to shut them down all the time,” he replies.
I sigh. “I don’t know how to explain things without explaining things.”
“Then you should just explain things,” Wyatt shrugs.
I think for a minute and make the decision before I can change my mind. “I don’t really like male attention on me. I have my reasons for it. I just feel safer looking and dressing the way I do,” I say to Wyatt.
I watch his golden eyes darken. He sits up straighter and drapes his arms over his knees. I watch as his jaw ticks. I know he has read more into my words than I want him too.
“Fuck, Heather. I just need to know. Are you safe? Is this an old threat or something I need to fix for you now?” he says tightly.
I shake my head. “I’m fine. I just…it’s not easy for me to be…myself. I’m not ready to be seen like that. This,” I brush at my t-shirt and shorts. “This is comfortable for me. It’s safe.”
I see Wyatt’s eyes mist. He stands and p
ulls me from the swing wrapping me in his arms. He holds me for a long time, and to be honest, it’s exactly what I need.
“Who gives a fuck what Terrance Miller thinks. Maybe he did you a favor. If this is how you feel safe. Then run with it. You’ll change when you’re ready,” Wyatt says gently.
“Yeah, but I don’t know if that’s what I want people to think of me,” I muse out loud.
“Since when do you give a fuck what anyone else thinks?” Wyatt chuckles. “Besides, you don’t have to explain yourself to anyone. If they want to believe rumors and lies, let them. If they want the truth they can get it from the source, if you feel like sharing. Otherwise, fuck ‘em.”
“You make it sound so easy,” I sniffle.
“You’re Heather Lockhart. It is that simple. You’re what you say you are. Fuck everyone else’s opinion,” I feel him shrug, as his arms remain wrapped around me.
“I guess,” I mutter.
“Now, for the part of this conversation I’m going to need you to cough up,” Wyatt says, with a hard edge in his voice.
I lift my head, backing out of his arms, and wrapping my own around my waist. I can see the anger simmering in his golden depths.
“You’re one of my best friends, Wyatt. When I’m ready to handle that part of my life, I’ll let you in on it,” I reply.
“Bullshit,” Wyatt holds up his hand, as I go to speak. “It’s bullshit, but I’ll respect it, for now.” He narrows his eyes at me. “As long as you’re telling me the truth and it’s someone in your past, not your present.”
I nod my head. “It’s in my past,” I tell the half-truth.
“You do know I’m going to make it my business to find out the details?” Wyatt says calmly.
I blowout a breath. “Then it’s lucky for me that you’re going back to school soon,” I give him a small grin.
“I’m not joking here, Heather,” Wyatt says sternly.