I’m shaking like a leaf stuck on a tree during a hurricane. Occasionally, my teeth chatter. Judging by the sweat on the men in the cramped kitchen, it must be warm, but I’m frozen.
Ms. Whitlock rubs her hand along my back, but removes it when I flinch. “You’re in shock,” she whispers, but everyone hears.
I guess I am. This decision to leave frightens me to the core. “I don’t know if I can do this. My father will find me.”
“He won’t,” Dust says. My eyes flash to him as these are the first words he’s said since I walked into the kitchen forty minutes ago.
“You don’t know that,” I respond.
“You’re right.” Eli leans forward on the table across from me. “We can’t predict the future, but we can tell you that we believe in this program and they are committed to keeping you safe. If you aren’t comfortable with this particular program in Louisville, we’ll take you to wherever you are comfortable. There are women’s shelters all over the state. If you don’t want us to take you, we’ll call them, and they’ll come get you. The point of all this is for you to know you have options that don’t include returning home.”
Dust is shaking his head as if he’s annoyed. “Your father won’t find you.”
“Dust,” Eli snaps in a tone that would frighten me if I was the one in trouble, but Dust doesn’t flinch.
“He won’t,” Dust repeats, and his insistence annoys me.
“You don’t know that,” I spit out. “And it’s my life on the line.”
“I do know it.” Dust stares straight at me. “Because my dad didn’t find my sister. He didn’t find Mia, and he never will.”
I blink so hard I swear it made a sound. “Mia? As in Mia Ziggler?”
Mia Ziggler is an urban legend in this town. A girl a few years older than me who was there one day and then the next she was on the back of a Reign of Terror bike and never seen again. Rumors were that the Reign of Terror had killed her and buried her body where it would never be found.
“Yes,” Dust says. “And she’s happy. She’ll help you if you let her. I’ll introduce you myself.”
I blink several more times as the cold starts to subside and pieces click into place. Mia Ziggler is Dust’s sister. Mia Ziggler left town on the back of a Reign of Terror motorcycle. The Reign of Terror stopped Mia and Dust from running away.
“Mia and I would be living on the streets if the club hadn’t stepped in,” Dust says. “You can trust us.”
I return my attention to Eli. “Did you offer Mia the same deal that you’re offering me?”
Eli glances over at Dust, as if searching for approval. Dust nods. “She’d be okay with you telling her.”
“Yes and no,” Eli says. “The program for girls under the age of twenty-one wasn’t available yet, so we took her to a women’s shelter where she got the help and support she needed.”
“She graduated from college,” Dust says, with a hint of pride that causes dangerous hope to flutter inside me. “And she just got married. She’s happy now. She’s healed.”
Healed. The word is like a hug that I’ve never been given, but so desperately want.
Dust’s words are pretty, but I have a hard time believing them. “Will you take us? Can I meet her?” Because if I make this leap, I need solid proof that someone else survived.
“Us?” Eli asks.
That brings me up short because I made an assumption, and before I can address Ms. Whitlock directly she places her hand over mine. “I’ll go with you. You don’t even have to ask. In fact, I insist you don’t go alone.”
I exhale in relief then look over at Dust, because it’s not Eli who I want to take me, but him. He gives me a subtle nod. He just agreed, and I dare to let that spark of hope within me multiply.
Chapter 22
Pigpen
Ms. Whitlock owns a Honda Civic. It’s shiny black on the outside, and even though it’s a few years old, it still has the fresh-out-of-the-showroom smell on the inside. I’m in the passenger side soaking in the glorious fact I’m in a confined space with the most beautiful woman in the world.
She’s driving, and she likes driving fast. We’re not in a hurry. In fact, if she keeps going at this rate, we’ll be there early. But getting there in time isn’t the reason her foot is pressed down on the gas. She likes the feel of going past the speed limit. Likes the challenge of weaving through traffic and controlling her own destiny. I know because the same fire lives inside me. Maybe if I’d had the time to play my cards right, we would have had a chance.
I glance at the backseat again and wonder if what’s going on there is a picture of what could have happened or the start of something bigger. One barely eighteen-year-old and the other not even twenty. Addison had fallen asleep against the window ten minutes into the drive. Doubt she meant it to happen, but it did. Through the ride, she’s shifted until her head came to rest on Dust’s shoulder.
At first, he looked as scared as a rabbit facing a freeway, but then he relaxed, placed his head back against the seat, and he’s also down for the count. Since falling asleep, Dust’s head has angled toward Addison, as if in sleep, he subconsciously wants to be closer.
I’ve known Dust since before he became a member of the club, and he’s not the type to let girls hang all over him. While he says Mia has healed from their past, I’m not sure he has. Maybe, just maybe, helping Addison can push him into the land of the living.
I return my attention to the road, and I’m surprised to catch Ms. Whitlock sneaking a peak at me.
“You okay?” I ask. “Do you need to stop off somewhere for coffee? It’ll be my treat.”
“I’m fine,” she says. “Are you okay? Do you need caffeine?”
“Naw. Sleep’s overrated.” And I’m not ready for conversation with her to be over. “Thanks for driving.”
“You’re welcome.” She tucks her silky hair behind her ear. “I’m going to be honest. I didn’t think you’d agree to my driving.”
“Dust’s been up for too long. I wouldn’t have trusted Addison on the back of his bike, and it’s not like Dust, Eli or I had a four-door available.”
She smirks, and I try to memorize how beautiful she looks with that snarky expression.
“What?” I push to figure out her mind.
“I didn’t mean it that way. I thought you would demand that a man drive the car.”
“It’s your car.”
“Yes, but that never stopped any man I was dating from telling me he should be the driver.”
“Sounds like you were dating the wrong people.”
Her head jerks in my direction, but she recovers quickly and watches the road. We ride long enough in silence again that I start to rack my brain for possible subjects to discuss.
She clears her throat once, then again. “I never knew Mia was being abused.”
My spine straightens because I’m not into gossip, but I understand her sad undertone. Guilt is a mean beast. “Not many people did.”
“If I had known, I would have helped.”
“I believe you.” Because I do. “We just got to her first.”
“The Reign of Terror aren’t as bad as everyone says, are they?”
I don’t know how to answer that because we aren’t Boy Scouts. “We help where we can, and never mean harm where we can’t.”
She drums her fingers against the steering wheel. “You introduced me as Ms. Whitlock to your associates. I’m comfortable with your calling me Caroline.”
“Caroline.” I say the name as if it’s a gift, which it is. “It’s nice to officially meet you. My friends call me Pigpen, but if you want, you can call me Abel.”
She turns her head in my direction again, and I stop breathing when her gorgeous blue eyes sparkle at me. “It’s nice to meet you, Abel. And thank you not only for helping Addison, but for involving me. I’m afraid I’ve held some misguided notions about your club, and for that I apologize.”
A smile slides across my face, and I fe
el like I was just reborn. “That’s okay. Maybe one day when we aren’t trying to save the world we can meet up, and I can tell you more about the club.” Then I realize how forward that sounded, and what bad form it was for the situation we’re in. “For educational purposes, of course.”
She has a cute laugh. One I wouldn’t have expected, but like all the same.
“For educational purposes, I’ll accept.”
Cloud nine. That’s what I’m on, and I have no intention of ever touching the ground again.
Chapter 23
Eli
Sitting in the Adirondack chair on the front porch of Dad’s cabin, I drink from the mug full of coffee. It’s ten-thirty in the morning, and not one of us in the house got enough sleep. After Pigpen left with Addison, Dust and Ms. Whitlock, I stole a couple of hours in one of the beds at the clubhouse. I had considered heading back to my apartment in town, but it wasn’t worth the drive in to turn around and drive back.
I’m at the clubhouse and Dad’s cottage so much that Dad’s told me to move in. I think about it at times. With Mom now gone, I know he’s lonely, but there’s been something holding me back. Something I’ve never looked too hard at, and after that conversation with Emily, I’m starting to take a peek. Maybe I hold onto my own place in the hopes I’ll someday have someone special to bring there, someplace to make a home.
On the arm of the chair is my cell, and I glance down at it for the hundredth time. I’m waiting on a message from Pigpen telling me that Addison has decided to save her life and accept the offer being presented to her. I’m also waiting on a text from Chevy informing me that he and Isaiah are on their way.
Uneasiness swirls through me. Isaiah—my brother’s son. I want to meet him. More than want, I need to meet him, but nothing about this is going to be easy for any of us or for him. He’s a man now—young, but a man all the same. Working a job as a mechanic, and from what I understand, not just any mechanic. He’s some sort of genius with custom cars. Isaiah has made a life for himself, and Dad and I—this entire club—we want in.
There’s no reason for him to give us a shot, but I’m going to ask for one all the same.
A car engine rumbles in the distance, and Nina’s two-door rounds the bend. She parks near the house and has my immediate attention as she slips out of the car. I’m used to Nina in her jeans and shirts, but it’s one of the first times I’ve seen her in a dress. A cotton sundress at that. Red, form-fitting, and possibly the most mesmerizing outfit I’ve ever seen.
Nina shrugs a white sweater over her shoulders, and then she catches me staring. She slow blinks, but then there’s a smile—one that’s just as slow as her blink. I nod my head at her, and she waves at me then returns to gathering her purse from her front seat.
I rub my chin. Holy hell. How did this happen? Emily was right, I am smiling.
I stand as she starts up the stairs, and I meet her at the top. “Morning.”
“Good morning. Chevy received a text from Isaiah a half hour ago telling him he was nearing town, so Chevy left to wait for him at the diner. I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted to be here when Chevy and Isaiah showed.”
“That’s no problem. You look great by the way,” I say, and Nina, who had been slipping her car keys into her purse, snaps her head up. Our eyes meet, and though I know I should look away, I can’t.
Nina flushes then tucks a stray strand of hair away from her face. “Thank you. I thought I should wear something nice but casual. It’s not like there’s wardrobe guidelines for a meeting like this. As in, ‘Hi, I’m Nina. Chevy’s mom and the other woman your father was sleeping with.’”
No, don’t guess there is. “I appreciate your being here. Isaiah’s going to have questions, and I want him to have answers.” Even though it punches me in the gut to admit it…. “You knew my brother better than I did.”
Nina’s face softens, and I stop breathing when she reaches out and wraps her fingers around my wrist. “He loved you, Eli. James loved you all. Never doubt that.”
Problem is, over the years since his death, I have doubted my relationship with him. But that doubt has slowly been receding as I’ve learned more of what my brother had done to protect me, my dad and this club during the last year of his life. Meeting Isaiah though, knowing he’s going to demand answers to tough questions, that doubt has resurfaced. But having Nina here helps. She’s an ally I never would have imagined having a year ago.
The rumble of a motorcycle engine approaches, and Chevy appears. Behind him is a black nineteen ninety-something Mustang that looks as if it just rolled off the assembly line. The motor has a loud growl, a pissed-off one, and I wonder if that’s an omen.
Chevy parks, and the Mustang slides up beside him. Its door opens, and Isaiah, my nephew, slides out. My heart freezes in my chest, and when Nina’s soft fingers slip from my wrist and link with mine, I immediately grip them in return. We hold onto each other in shared shock, in shared awe, in need of support. She’s one of the few people who can understand the avalanche of emotions overwhelming me.
Standing in front of us is a mirror of my brother, of Nina’s best friend, and it hurts like hell that this is the first time we’ve ever met.
Chapter 24
Addison
I have the third-wheel feeling as Dust hugs his older sister and Snowflake’s own urban legend, Mia Ziggler. The third-wheelish feeling is because I’m not sure there’s anyone in my life who family-loves me like Dust and Mia family-love each other. As in blood does mean something. It’s obvious with just a few interactions, they would move heaven and earth for the other’s happiness.
They step back from each other, and Mia smiles up at her brother with so much admiration that my chest aches with longing. I want to know what it’s like to look at someone like that, and for someone to gaze at me with so much love in return.
Mia has short black hair that’s cut in a razor sharp blunt edge angled toward her face. Sort of like a manic-pixie. She playfully shoves Dust’s shoulder. “You don’t text me back.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets like the reprimand equal parts bothers him and was deserved. “I text back.”
“A day later. That’s so uncivilized.”
Dust’s only response is an adorable lift of the ends of his lips.
She turns to me, and gives a smile I wouldn’t have thought possible from her if all that she went through in her childhood was true. “You must be Addison. Dust and Eli called and gave me a very brief rundown of your situation. I’m Mia.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, and glance around the living room. It’s an old house. A massive house. One with hardwood floors, huge windows and a winding staircase. There’s laughter in the kitchen, the sound of girls my age, and upstairs I hear multiple feet and voices.
I shove my hands in my pockets, unsure where I fit into all of this.
Mia tilts her head, and the sympathy that seeps into her expression is hard to watch, because I know it’s for me. “Did Dust tell you what this place is?”
I nod. It’s a place for girls like me. Girls who are too old to be placed into state custody, but too young to make a fresh start without some help. It’s a place that works with a woman’s shelter. A place that Mia runs to help girls like me—girls who were like her.
“I have an opening,” Mia says. “One of my girls, Neveah, just moved out, and that means Charity will need a roommate. Neveah’s down the street in an apartment with friends from college. She’s a junior and a nursing major. Watch out, she likes to talk gross, bloody things at dinner, and she plans on being here for dinner a lot.”
Mia is friendly. Everyone so far has been friendly, but I’m so freaked out that I sort of want to run. Is new better? Am I going to be okay here?
“Do you want a tour of the place?” Dust says, and his deep voice gains my attention. “I helped with a lot of the renovations. I can show you what I’ve done.”
He looks straight into my eyes, and the reassurance in his gaze is l
ike a hug. I nod again. When he tilts his head toward the dining room, I follow and listen as he starts to tell me about drywall and flooring.
Sitting at the end of a long dining room table, I push my half-eaten plate of spaghetti and meatballs to the side and accept the packet of papers Mia’s been going over for the past hour. The lunch was good, very good. A petite girl named Charity made it, and she was very nice and very welcoming and will be my roommate if I agree to all the terms and conditions being laid out for me now.
After a grace period of finding a job and getting on my feet, I’ll be required to pay rent. The price is very reasonable, and helps with the upkeep of the house. In exchange for staying here, I will have chores, will be responsible for cooking dinner on rotation, and will have to follow all the rules listed on one of the papers—including a requirement that I participate in emotional counseling, financial counseling and career counseling.
Mia runs this house and the program, but lives next door with her husband. Despite sleeping under a different roof, she said, she remains our guide, our mentor, our house mother, a stern voice of reason and a friend—all available to us twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
“So, what do you think?” Mia says, and I stare down at the pieces of paper that are filled with printed words I’m too overwhelmed to comprehend.
Eli and Dust ate lunch with us, but disappeared outside after Mia started discussing details of the program. Ms. Whitlock has remained by my side. She’s been wonderful. Asking questions that had been in my head, but I’m too paralyzed to ask. She has encouraged me with eye contact, or a gentle touch. Like now, as she places her hand over mine and squeezes.
Mia asked me a question, and I need to answer. Problem is, I don’t know what to say. “Do you mind if I have a few minutes to myself?”
“Of course,” she answers. “Take all the time you need.”
The Novella Collection: A series of short stories for the Pushing the Limits series, Thunder Road series, and Only a Breath Apart Page 11