Pieces of My Heart (12 page)

“Here ya go, man.” Caulder stood at the counter with his empty mug, glaring daggers at the two of us.

“Thanks.” Simon took the cup and headed for the back room where the industrial dishwasher was loaded up for the night.

Heat crept up the back of my neck, infusing my cheeks as I stood there staring at the shiny black tiles beneath my feet. Caulder had just witnessed Simon hitting on me. He’d witnessed me
allowing
Simon to hit on me, less than a year after we put his brother—someone I claimed to love—in the ground. He must have thought I was the most horrible human being on the planet.

“Hey.” His soft command drew my attention and I couldn’t stop myself from lifting my eyes to his. “What’s running through that head of yours?”

He didn’t already know? Well, that was a relief. “Nothing.”

I reached for a rag and started rubbing idle circles on the counter.

“Was that guy bothering you?”

“Who? Simon?” That was . . . unexpected. “No. Simon’s harmless.”

Was it possible that he’d picked up on my discomfort from all the way across the shop and that’s what pissed him off, instead of the fact that he thought I was a raging slut?

“Alright, but if he bothers you, you let me know. I’ll take of it.”

I swallowed and nodded, feeling suddenly shy for no good reason.

Eleven

“Well, well, look who it is.” I cringed at the sound of Michael’s scratchy voice greeting me as I stepped into the apartment. He always sounded like he needed to clear his throat or something. “Isn’t it the pretty, pretty princess? Not so pretty anymore, are we?”

I knew I’d reached a new low when I sought out my mother for security. Michael and I had exchanged very few words since his arrival. There was a reason for that. Besides making my skin crawl, the guy scared me. Even with a smile plastered to his face, there was a deliberate evil in his eyes that I’d never seen from my mother.

Or maybe it was my imagination that she was the lesser of two evils. Maybe it was just that he was the lesser known variable. I didn’t know what to expect from him, which made him all the more threatening.

“How was work?”

I wanted nothing more than to continue on my way, but he’d asked me a question. It would be rude to walk away without answering. “Work was fine.”

I took a step forward, but he wasn’t going to make it that easy. “What happened to your face?”

I was not having this conversation with him. It was bad enough that I’d have to have it eventually with Mom. “I hit it on something.”

“Apparently. Didn’t anybody ever teach you to duck? You let somebody mark you up like that, it’s an invitation for everybody else to do the same.”

He thought I’d gotten into a fight. And he didn’t even care. All he cared about was that I’d obviously lost. The worst part was that I didn’t even know if his words were meant as a warning or a threat. Whatever they were, they weren’t a comfort.

“I’m tired. I’m gonna go to my room.”

“Yeah.” He used his tongue to clean something from between his rotted teeth and smirked at me. “I’d want to hide, too, if I were you. There’s a reason people keep their punching bags where no one can see them.”

I tried to ignore him. To tell myself this man meant nothing to me and so his words shouldn’t matter. But he was my father and, no matter what I told myself, they did. Hot tears pooled in my eyes and I twisted away from him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of my pain, only to see Mom entering the room from the kitchen, carrying a bag of chips.

I was outnumbered and surrounded.

She took one look at me and flicked her gaze to Michael.

“What’s the matter with her?” Spoken as though I weren’t in the room or capable of answering for myself.

I’d never felt more vulnerable, standing between them with tears in my eyes.

“Nothing. She’s just being overly sensitive. Can’t take a joke. Must have gotten your sense of humor.”

Mom scowled at him, but I doubted it was on my behalf.

“Can’t take the heat?” Michael stretched out his leg, nudging the back of my knee with the toe of his dirty sneaker. “Get out of the kitchen, sweetheart.”

Taking that as my cue to escape, I rushed past my mother and down the hall to the sounds of their laughter.

I felt dirty. He’d barely touched me, but his words had burrowed beneath my skin. I’d let him in. Let him get to me—and he knew it. There would be no stopping him now.

Veering away from my bedroom, I slipped into the bathroom and locked the door. Water from the shower head pounded the tub floor, drowning out their voices. It was the one place at home where my overworked brain could catch a break. Relief washed over me along with the steaming water and I sighed. I found a patch of dried blood that had been cover by my pony tail and scrubbed it out of my hair. Little by little, my muscles began to relax, easing the soreness by degrees. Examining my unclothed body, I noticed bruises in places I hadn’t realized. A dark purple stripe across my collarbone where the seatbelt kept me from flying through the windshield—a decent tradeoff. A few more on my legs, but none of them were terrible. In a few days, I’d be good as new. Too bad the same couldn’t be said for my car.

I was still waiting on a call from the mechanic, but my best guess was that I wouldn’t be seeing her again for a while. If ever. I couldn’t even think about that. I needed that useless piece of crap to do what she was supposed to do, so I could do what I was supposed to do. That was the deal we made when I bought her from that junkyard. I didn’t ask much from her. A to B, and back again. That’s it. How hard was that?

Scrubbing my face with hot water, I winced and poked gingerly at the puffiness around my lip. What a mess. It was always something. And never just one something at a time. My entire life felt like drowning. Endlessly struggling upward for so long, only to finally break the surface and find myself staring at a sheer cliff wall.

I stayed in there until the water ran cold and I started to shiver. Stepping out, I snagged a towel that looked like it had served double duty as a moth buffet from the linen closet at the foot of the tub. Water continued to fall, catching the backs of my legs with its icy spray, as I pulled the rough material around my shoulders.

I wasn’t ready to shut it off yet. I wasn’t ready to tune back into my life. Wrapped up against the growing chill, I sat on the side of the tub and let my mind empty.

***

“
What the hell did you do
?”

I spun around, nearly dropping the laundry basket in the process, to find DJ closing in fast.

“What?” I backpedaled, scanning the area for an escape route, but it was too late. He was on me. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you try to feed me that innocent crap, Jade. I’m not buying it.”

“DJ, I . . .” Taking another step back, I tripped, slamming my hip on the dryer with a hollow clang.

He followed me, pinning me against the machine with the sheer force of his rage. I didn’t bother looking for help. No one was there. And even if they had been, I didn’t live in the kind of place where people generally stuck their necks out for one another.

“Shut your mouth. I don’t want to hear your lies or your excuses or any other bullshit you’ve got inside that stupid as shit brain of yours. One thing, Jade. I asked you to do
one goddam thing
. How hard is that?”

“Is this about the package?” Of course it was. What else could DJ and I possibly have to discuss? Though I thought the time for discussing even that was long over. I hadn’t allowed myself to think about that terrifying night since it had happened. Months ago. Whatever Caulder said to DJ that night had done the trick. This was the first I was hearing about it from him. “I gave it back to you. I couldn’t deliver it. You know that. I told you—”

“That the cops were there. Yeah, you told me. But you didn’t tell me
why
they were there, you stupid bitch.”

Why?
How was I supposed to know . . . “You don’t think I—?”

“I gave you that address and an hour later the cops are knocking on the door? You fucked up, Jade. You have no idea how bad you fucked up. Those guys that got arrested, they were part of the Hell Hounds. The
motorcycle club.
” Terror ran my blood cold and sharpened my senses. For the first time I noticed the horrible bruises covering DJ’s face and arms. The long, jagged gash along his hairline. The black eye. Distorted nose. And the way he was limping. Someone had worked him over. Hard. “You don’t mess with them and live to tell about it.”

“I didn’t mess with anyone.”

“That’s not how Stryker sees it.”

“Because of
you!
What did you tell him?”

“Only what I know. Now I’ll tell you the same. He’s out. And he’s pissed as hell. He knows someone narced on him. He’s lookin’ for blood and I’m
not
going down for this bullshit. You better watch your back, Jade, because he’s coming for you.”

“No. DJ, please.” Life had hit an all-time low when I started looking to DJ for protection, but I was scared out of my mind. “You have to tell him—”

“I ain’t tellin’ him shit. You’re on your own.”

“But I . . . I can’t—”

“Shoulda thought of that before you decided to play do-gooder.” He started to back away, a cruel sneer warping his already disfigured face. “Where are your friends now, sweetness? Who you gonna get to clean up this mess for you?”

Little leech. Bottom-feeding parasite.

“You’re the worst kind of rat, Jade. And you’re gonna die in the sewers with the rest of us. Who knows, maybe we’ll eat you for dinner.”

The basket slipped from my tingling fingers, slapping against the concrete floor and spilling neatly folded shirts, jeans, and undergarments everywhere. I grabbed ahold of the dryer for support as my legs turned to jelly and focused on controlling my breathing before I hyperventilated.

This couldn’t be my life. I was not the girl that had scary bikers hunting for her. I was the girl who ducked her head and hid in bathroom stalls. I was the girl who served coffee and wiped counters. The girl who sailed quietly beneath the notice of the rest of humanity.

At least that’s who I tried to be.

So, then, why did things like this seem to keep happening to me?

Twelve

The phone buzzed for the hundredth time. And for the first time ever . . . I regretted knowing Kiernan. I regretted that he cared about me enough to make me a part of his family. Because all I wanted was to curl up and disappear. But he wouldn't let me.

Caulder refused to let me slip away unnoticed. He refused to let me lie down and surrender. He demanded that I keep fighting, no matter how hard it was. And if I tried to tell him that I couldn't, that it was too hard, he'd insist on fighting for me.

I was tired of fighting.

“What?” My voice came out harsher than I meant it to.

“
What?
I’m in my car, on my way to your apartment. That’s what.”

“Why?”

“Because you refused to answer your damn phone.” He sounded more irritated than I was.

“So?”

“You were in a car accident, Jade. You refused medical treatment, insisted on working. Went home to a couple of raging alcoholics. And then don’t pick up when I try to check in on you?”

Well, when he put it that way . . . “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Some of the tension eased from his voice. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” For the moment.

In the two days since the accident, most of my soreness had worn off. I had full range of motion again. The bruises were starting to fade from a bright redish-purple to a sickly yellowish-green color that looked twice as gross, but evidently meant they were healing.

“Then why didn’t you answer?”

“I’m sorry. I should have.”

“Damn right you should have. I’ve been calling since yesterday. Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”

Did he really need to keep rubbing it in? Because I didn’t already feel crappy enough. “Maybe I didn’t want to talk to you! Have you ever considered taking a hint?”

A long, drawn out pause. And then, “What happened?”

“What?”

“What did they do to you now?” The tension was growing again.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“Cal—”

“Angel.”

I sighed. Dog with a bone. It pissed me off that he honestly couldn’t believe my being angry had anything to do with him. It pissed me off
more
that he was right. “Nothing
new
.”

He sighed, too, and there was a long stretch of quiet where I idly wondered if he was still on his way to my place or pulled over on the side of the road somewhere.

I’d been sinking ever since he dropped me off after work. Falling deeper and deeper into that dark hole inside of me that I worked really hard to keep covered most of the time. DJ’s reappearance in my life had been like a lead weight tied to my ankle, dragging me down dangerously fast. Hearing Caulder’s voice helped improve my mood. I could see another of those highs cresting on the horizon.

“Come with me.” There it was. Right in front of me. Tempting me.

And even knowing how far I’d have to fall on the other side . . . I gave in. “Where?”

“Anywhere. Just get out of there for a while. That place . . . it isn’t healthy.”

There was no arguing that. “When?”

“Now. I’m outside.”

Now
? But I was lying in my bed, hiding from drunk parents, angry drug dealers, and scary bikers. In my pajamas. And my dresser was so . . . freaking . . . far . . .  away.

“Give me ten minutes.” I hung up before he could say anything else—two could play that game—and continued to glare at my drawers as though I could somehow will the clothing to pick itself out and float across the room to me.

No such luck.

Two minutes in to my ten, I finally rolled off the bed and shuffled to the mirror.
Crap
. I should have asked for twenty. Or a hundred. It didn’t matter. There was no fixing what I saw in the reflection.

A bruise had formed around the cut on my face, and the swelling on my lip had gone down, but the split in it looked crusty and ragged.
Real attractive
.

Jeans were vetoed, in favor of black leggings that wouldn’t rub so harshly on my bruised thighs. Pulling on a baby blue tank, I dug out a bottle of concealer that I’d had forever and was probably about three years expired. A few dabs and my face looked slightly less zombie-like. The only lip covering I had, however, was a clear gloss, which only served to make the cut shiny and thus more obvious. Wiping it off on a wad of toilet paper, I reexamined my reflection and frowned. As expected, there was no fixing it.

Caulder stood leaning against the hood of his car when I emerged from the building, zipping up my hoodie and tucking my hands away in the pockets. He looked amazing—as usual—with his white tee peeking out from beneath his unzipped gray hoodie and his black track pants hanging low on his hips. Which only made me want to pull up my hood and take cover.

The fact that he was eyeing me intensely as I drew nearer didn’t help. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

He looked unconvinced as he pulled open the passenger door and then rounded the hood without waiting for me to get in. We were stopped at the exit to the complex before I even bothered asking where we were going.

The light turned green and Caulder did a quick double check of the road before pulling out. “I was thinking about asking if you wanted to hit the gym with me, but seeing as how you’re moving like a ninety-year-old grandma . . .”

The extra money in your food budget went straight to your hips and butt.

I knew I'd put on a few pounds, but I hadn't really been paying attention to how much. Looking at my belly, I squeezed the bit of flub hanging off my bones. Gross. I was becoming a slob. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that the granola bars were gone. And the bread. And the peanut butter. And just about everything else.

"Are you kidding me, right now?" Caulder smacked my hand away from my middle, scowl firmly etched into his face. "You need to put on at least another forty pounds before you could even be considered healthy, but I can't talk about that without getting pissed off, and I'm trying to keep things light today. So, for the sake of my sanity, I'm going to pretend that you did not just think you were fat and you're going to promise me you'll never think that again. Deal?"

Keeping things light sounded good to me. I could use a little more light in my life. “What if I win the lottery and eat Raisinets until I’m three-hundred pounds?”

“Then you’d be a three-hundred pound twig.” A crease formed in his stubble with a twitch of his lips. “You like Raisinets?”

“Mmm. They’re my favorite candy.”

Caulder hummed thoughtfully. “Good to know.”

What did
that
mean?

***

I don’t know why I was surprised to see Mrs. Parks’ car in the driveway. She lived there, after all, but to hear Cal tell it, it seemed as though she was hardly ever home.

“Your mom’s home?”

“Yeah. For a change. And she wants to see you.”

I cringed. I hadn’t seen her since my outburst over dessert. “I sort of . . . owe her an apology, huh?”

“Angel, you don’t owe anyone anything. I explained the situation. She isn’t upset. Not with you, anyway. She is worried, though. Made me promise to bring you over today.”

“Did you happen to mention the accident, too?”

Caulder shrugged, looking not the slightest bit apologetic. “It’s kinda half the reason she insisted on taking a look at you. She was royally pissed that I let you walk away without having a doctor examine you. I didn’t, however, mention that I also let you go to work. So if you wouldn’t mind keeping that detail between us, I prefer having my head attached to the rest of my body.”

“Jade!” I’d barely set foot inside the house before I found Mrs. Parks’ arms around me, hauling me in for a firm, yet controlled, hug. After a moment, she pushed me back by my shoulders far enough to examine me from head to toe. “How are you feeling?”

“Think you can let the girl get her shoes off first?” Caulder braced my arm so I could lift my leg and slide off the muddy sneakers.

My movements were stiff and slow, and I saw Cal cringe from the corner of my eye when his mother scowled at him.

“Come and sit.” Mrs. Parks ushered me away while Caulder toed off his own shoes, and parked me on the living room sofa. “I heard about the accident, sweetie. It sounded terrible.”

I mentally rolled my eyes as she dug into a duffle bag situated on the cushion beside her. Like mother, like son.

“You really should have let a doctor take a look at you. I know it’s not the funnest thing in the world, but it’s always better to be safe than— Oh, here we go.” Pulling out a small white cylinder smaller than a lipstick case, she twisted to face me and I had to bite back a gasp when her knees collided with mine. “Look right here.”

She held up a finger and I tried to focus on it as she lifted the tube, but when a small bulb lit at the end I blinked against the sudden exposure.

“Right here.” She wiggled her finger again and I forced myself not to squint.

“Mom, it’s been almost forty-eight hours.” Caulder was leaning up against the door frame with a healthy dose of amusement lighting his face as he shook his head at her. “If she had a concussion, don’t you think someone would have noticed by now?”

She shot him a look that shut him up completely as the question of ‘Who?’ hovered silently in the air between them.

“No double vision? Headache? Nausea? Vomiting?” I shook my head as Mrs. Parks ran through her checklist, until the tightness around her eyes and mouth began to ease.

“Okay. That’s good.” The light went out and she dropped it back into her bag. “Do you have pain anywhere else? Joints? Muscles? Bruising?”

It seemed like a silly question to ask someone who’d been in a car accident, but I indulged her. “I’m a little sore and I have some bruises, but nothing major. Really, Mrs. Parks, I’m okay.”

She smiled and eased back into the cushions as though a weight had been lifted from her. A weight of worry. For
me
. Something warmed like a tiny sun inside my chest.

“Alright then” She patted my leg gently and hauled herself off the sofa, taking her bag along with her and looped it over her shoulder. “I’ll leave you two alone. I think there’s something Caulder wants to show you. And, Jade . . .” She reached down to run her fingers through my hair. Such an affectionate gesture, I had to make an effort not to get emotional over it. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Parks.”

She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was trying. Muddling through like the rest of us. But deep down, she was hurting.

“You have something to show me?” When Mrs. Parks had retreated upstairs, I shifted my gaze to Caulder and settled back on the soft throw pillows, in no real hurry to move a muscle.

The same couldn’t be said for him. “Yeah. Come on. Let’s do this.”

He turned down the hallway and I was half tempted to throw one of those pillows at his head. Instead, I kept my grumbling to a minimum and used the arm of the sofa to drag my sorry butt back up. A wave of dizziness washed over me and I grabbed hold of the door frame to keep my feet from stumbling over each other as a halo of darkness tinged the edge of my vision.

“Jade?” Cal turned back, brows slamming down over worried eyes. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head, trying to fight back the encroaching blackness. “Nothing.”

I couldn’t really see more than his hard chest centered in the pinhole of my vision, but I knew he was quietly giving me a chance to rethink that lame answer.

“I’m lightheaded. I think I’m dehydrated.”

“Dehydrated?”

Caulder’s thick arm wrapped around my back, leading me like a blind person. My feet shuffled slowly forward as my head started to swim. Silently, I commanded myself not to faint. I hadn’t done that since I was a kid—and I wasn’t going to do it now. Not in front of Caulder.

He deposited me in a kitchen chair and the change in altitude helped a little. The room still appeared dimmer than I knew it was, but I could see him near the fridge, filling a glass of water.

“Here.” The cold glass was pressed into my hand and lifted to my lips. “Drink.”

The water went down cool and smooth, but it did little to help with the lingering darkness that had receded to the fringe of my vision again.

“Okay, so now you’ve had a drink.” Caulder sat perched on the edge of the seat beside me as though he may need to catch me should I decide to slip out of mine into unconsciousness. “Tell me . . . What have you eaten today?”

Crap
. I really thought the dehydration excuse would work. I’d looked it up before. It was a reasonable explanation of my symptoms. And it wasn’t the first time I’d used it. No one else had questioned its validity. But, then again, no one else knew me the way Caulder did. Knew all of my dirty little secrets.

“Angel, you either tell me the truth or I’ll have Mom in here examining you again in a heartbeat. You’re not dehydrated.” He pinched lightly at the skin on the back of my hand as though that were supposed to prove something and then nodded. “So, either this is because you haven’t eaten, or it’s something else. Which is it?”