Carry You Home (Carry Your Heart #2) (42 page)

It wasn't enough of a distraction though because my chest was still heaving, my throat was all dried out, and my hands had practically fallen asleep at my sides. I rushed into the bathroom and slammed the door right in Caleb's face before he had a chance to get a word out.

I leaned into the sink with both hands clasping the sides and closed my eyes.

Breathe in. Breathe out. That's all you have to do and this will just be over.

My eyes flew open when pounding thumped on the door.

"Iz," Caleb's voice, although muffled through the door, sounded almost as panicked as I felt. "I have a key, you know. I'm giving you 10 seconds and then I'm coming in."

I sucked in a haggard breath. God, why did I come here today? I should've just ridden this out in my dad's office, freaking out in silence and solitude instead of making a fool of myself here. Suddenly, the door flew open and Caleb crowded the doorway with one hand on the doorknob and the other one tearing through what little hair he had. Our eyes met and then he immediately shut the door behind him, taking a careful step closer.

I didn't know what else to do and because my legs felt weightless, just like they had this morning, I backed up against the wall closest to me and slid all the way down as my feet gave out on me.

Caleb was silent for a moment and shoved his hands deep into his front pockets, his forehead once again lined with worry. I couldn't bring myself to look at him, so I hugged my knees to my chest and rested my chin on one knee. He shuffled forward until we were toe to toe and then he gestured down to the space next to me.

"Is it alright if I sit?"

I shrugged. "It's a free country."

In spite of everything, his lips twisted up into a grin and he slid down the wall to settle in just a few inches away from me, only slowed by the stiffness in his knee. He mimicked my sitting position and leaned his head against the wall before finally turning just a hair to get a better look at me.

"I don't know what happened just now," he murmured. "But you gotta tell me what's going on."

It was only fair. I couldn't show up at his place of business, interrupt his day with a spontaneous, uninvited lunch, barely make it through the whole meal without hyperventilating, and
not
explain myself.

"I had a panic attack," I exhaled, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice. "That's what happened."

He was silent for a moment, considering my words carefully before he spoke again. "Do you get those a lot?"

"Sometimes. I had one this morning. Having two in one day hasn't happened in a while though. Apparently, they're triggered whenever I feel out of control."

I wasn't going to add that my therapist had also prescribed sleeping pills, which I rarely took even though I probably should, and anti-anxiety pills as well, which I did take as prescribed to various degrees of success. Caleb didn't need to know that.

Caleb nodded slowly as he studied the lines dividing the tiles in his shop's bathroom. "Like the one you had after the break-in?"

Of course he remembered. I hadn't really expected anything else.

"Yeah."

He nodded tightly and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down a few times before he cleared his throat harshly. "And you've had them ever since?"

"Pretty much."

He flinched and the hold he had on his hands folded at his knees tightened until his knuckles turned white. "I'm sorry, Iz."

"I don't know why you're apologizing. It's not your fault."

All I got was silence as he stared blankly into the planes of wood on the door. Now I just needed something to fill this void and as if it had a will of its own, my mouth opened and more word vomit came spilling out.

"It's just so much harder than I thought it would be," I whispered. "I mean, I knew it was going to be hard, but actually
watching
it every single day, seeing him suffer—I don't know how much longer I can do it."

He nodded again, giving me the space and the time to do or say whatever I needed to feel more normal again. And as I spoke, my body gravitated toward him like a magnet. His presence was enough because ever since he'd stepped foot inside this bathroom, my breathing slowed, my chest loosened, and my fingers didn't tingle so much anymore.

"I'm a terrible person," I murmured.

That had him shifting against the wall so he could face me and he frowned back at me. "Don't say that, Iz."

"No, it's true," I shrugged and with that, my head leaned just far enough to the right until it rested on Caleb's left shoulder. He stiffened for just a moment and just as quickly, he relaxed into me so his chin could prop up protectively on the top of my head.

"I should want it to be over," I whispered again. "It's the best thing for him to not have to suffer anymore. I don't want to have to watch it, but I don't want it to be over either. If it's over, that means he's gone. Our relationship has always been so complicated, but we finally figured it out...finally figured out how to be a family again and now, I just want more time with him. It's so horrible and selfish and cruel and—"

"Iz," his head turned just enough so his mouth could brush my forehead. "It's not horrible and it doesn't make you a terrible person. It just means you love him. That's all."

"I don't know," I sighed, leaning into him just a little bit more. He didn't move an inch. "Ever since my mom...he was just never the same. You know, I spent so much of my life trying to be him, or at least, trying to be what he wanted me to be. I don't know when he stopped being my dad and became someone so
unhappy
. You wanna know what he said the first time he ever saw my sketches?"

His lips curved up sadly and he waited for me to tell him the answer.

"He told me to stop doodling and do my homework," I laughed bitterly and shook my head. "I thought he was gonna disown me when I quit Duke. God, he was so disappointed in me, but I just wish I'd pushed harder in the beginning for rehab or more counseling or
something
. I mean, how many times did we bring him home from bars? I think I lost count after a while. I just didn't want him to lose his job and I didn't want him to lose what little dignity he had left. I was just stupid and scared and I hate that it took something so scary and so terrible
for both of us to finally snap out of it."

My eyes fell to the faint scar in the middle of my left hand and squeezed shut at the memory of what had finally pushed my dad into his first rehab stint. In all the years since it happened, we'd only talked about it once in family counseling together. My dad had wept on the couch, held his head in his hands, and begged me to forgive him for both the physical and emotional attack. I'd forgiven him a long time ago, but the memory still left an ugly scar. Just like pretty much everything in my life.

"You did the best you could, Iz," Caleb told me hoarsely.

"I know it's not going to change things now," I pushed on softly. "He tried so hard. He really did. He knew things had to change, but it was just too late. I guess I should just be grateful for the time I did get with him."

I felt him nod into my hair and press his mouth into the side of my head.

"That's the way it should be, Iz."

Every time that nickname rolled off his lips, I just wanted to lean in closer. I wanted to be in deeper. There was something else, too. Something hovering beneath the surface I hadn't let myself acknowledge outright because it was always so damn painful when I did. But with him sitting here, holding me like this, comforting me like this...and then my eyes fell to those three letters inked on his wrist.

"Do you know what tomorrow is?"

He lifted his face away from my hair and leaned away as he cleared his throat. Tomorrow marked the eighth anniversary of the worst day of both our lives. There was no forgetting that kind of tragedy no matter how much alcohol, counseling, and prescription medication I consumed—not necessarily in that order.

"Yeah," he nodded numbly. "I do."

"I hate tomorrow already."

He laughed mirthlessly and then swung an arm around me to tuck my body under his shoulders. "Yeah, I know what you mean. God, I can't believe it's here again. I think I spend the whole year alternating between dreading it and trying not to think about it."

I breathed him in, filling my senses with musk and gasoline. One of his hands was in my hair now while the other clung to me for dear life and for a fleeting moment, I never wanted him to let go. It was like no time had passed, like nothing had torn us apart, and all that was left was this electrically-charged connection we both knew still existed between us.

Getting caught up in his arms like this was dangerous, but I had to take these few moments. It just felt too good.

His hands were closing around my face now so he could brush a few stray tears away with his thumbs. My eyes collided with his and his face was so dangerously close. My eyes squeezed shut again as his thumb moved across my cheek. When I pulled my gaze back up to him, my breath caught in my throat at the tender, warm expression in his eyes and everything else just stopped. He leaned forward, his calloused hands still pressed around my cheeks, and then paused, as if he was waiting for some sort of sign to go further.

My chin tilted up ever so slightly to give him better access and then my hand inched up the length of his button-down shirt. As his head dipped even lower, our noses brushed against each other. Caleb leaned back for a split second, as if to silently ask permission, and after finding whatever he was looking for, his lips grazed across my cheek. Just as his lips began a light trail to my lips, the front door burst open, startling me right out of his arms.

Saul stood before us and a brief look of apology flashed across his face when he took in our current position on the floor. He held a hand up in the air and I was faintly aware that Caleb growled in his direction.

"Sorry, boss," Saul fired off. "I didn't mean to interrupt, but Theo Wallace and two of his boys are out front. They want to talk to you."

All the air sucked right out of the room as Caleb leapt to his feet, pulling me with him, and his hand fell to the small of my back to urge me forward.

"You remember what we talked about?" Caleb asked his employee pointedly and Saul nodded without hesitation.

Everything seemed to rush in a blur around me as Caleb hurried me out into the garage, all the way looking over his shoulder and then he all but shoved me at Saul before disappearing into the room next to the bathroom. My eyes followed him and then they nearly fell out of my head when Caleb opened the bottom drawer in a desk and pulled out two handguns. I froze as he tucked one behind the waistband of his jeans and then handed the other gun to Saul, who followed suit.

"She doesn't leave your sight until you get the okay from me," Caleb instructed him in a cool, lethally calm voice.

"Got it," Saul nodded, already pushing me toward the garage's back door with a hand on my back.

I glanced frantically over my shoulder, even though I knew I had to keep walking forward, and Caleb threw me one more look before nodding and turning on his heel to stalk out of the garage.

Caleb

Theo Wallace, with two Warlord officers, was waiting in the parking lot just like Saul said he was. I'd known this day would come, I'd just never imagined it would also be the day Isabelle randomly decided to show up at my shop with lunch and a whole shitload of issues.

When it rained, it poured. Or something like that.

But with Isabelle safe in Saul's care for the time being, I had bigger issues to worry about right now.

Wallace nodded to me as I approached and my fingers itched to touch the Glock tucked into my jeans just to remind myself it was there.

"Sawyer," he called out when we were standing just a few feet away from each other.

"Wallace," I nodded back tightly.

At this point, Saul should've gotten Isabelle off the property already, so as far as I knew, she was safe and Wallace would never know she was here. That didn't mean I wanted Theo Wallace on my property any longer than necessary.

"Long time no see," he flashed me a grin, but this was more about baring his teeth than anything. There was menace in that grin, a hardness that wasn't there the last time I saw him, and now, I knew it was all directed right at me.

"Yeah," I rocked back on my heels and shoved my hands deep inside my pockets. "How 'bout that?"

He gestured with his head to my shop and I turned just in time to see Saul's truck heading down the street in the opposite direction, away from view and getting Isabelle one step closer to safety.

"Looks like you got yourself set up here real nice," Wallace pointed right at my shop as he spoke. "I guess good things
can
happen to those who abandon their families and throw their legacy in the shitter, huh?"

My lips curled up into a defiant snarl—Theo Wallace didn't know shit about me. He thought he did, but all he knew was what he'd heard. It wasn't any different than what I knew about him, but I also wasn't sitting here, insinuating about his life either. If our roles were reversed and I was standing in his shoes, with a dead kid and an MIA old lady, I probably would be doing exactly what he was: lighting fires and burning bridges. Come to think of it, he and I were never all that different, save for a few details.