Pieces of My Heart (25 page)

“You had no reason to be nice to her. But you just can’t help yourself. You don’t have a mean bone in your body.” Soft lips pressed against my forehead and remained there as he whispered, “My Angel.”

“Cal, please.” Battling the idea of shrugging his touch, I won and stepped away. “Don’t put me up on some kind of pedestal. I’ll only let you down.”

Caulder frowned, his hands still hovering in the air between us. “You could nev—”

“Cal—”

“
But
. . . you’re right. I’m being unfair. So I’ll make you a deal. You stop trying to hide in some hole somewhere, and I’ll stop trying to put you on display for the whole world to see.”

I struggled with that thought. Hiding was my number one instinct. Had been ever since I was little. I wasn’t sure I could stop even if I wanted to. “I’ll try.”

His smile returned slowly and he closed the space between us.

“That’s all I can ask.” Pressing me against his chest, his face found my hair and nuzzled. “I only do it because I love you. And because I’m so damn proud to call you mine. I don’t know how I ever got so lucky.”

I didn’t need to feel the heat pooling in my cheeks to know it was there when Caulder chuckled and stroked a finger along the reddened skin.

“I have to run over to campus to meet with my advisor. He called this morning, said some of my courses double counted toward different requirements. If he’s right, I’m closer to graduating than I thought.” A fact that put a smile on his face too breathtaking to describe. “Will you be alright here alone?”

Mrs. Parks was at the hospital. She wasn’t fast on her way to working herself into an early grave anymore, but it was winter and they needed her more often than not, so she still spent a lot of hours there.

I, however, was not going to be home alone. “Actually, I’m going out.”

“Where?”

“Job hunting. Just because your mom’s been more than generous with my family doesn’t mean I can just sit around your house reading all day.”

Confusion—and the tiniest hint of annoyance—curved Caulder’s mouth downward. “It kind of means exactly that.”

“Cal, I can’t—”

“Angel, you don’t have to go back to working some minimum wage, crap job.”

It stung that he thought the extent of my abilities amount to ‘crap’. And it must have shown because that irritated frown sank deeper into remorse.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” His head tipped sideways on a sigh. “I just meant that you can be so much more. You’re not trapped anymore, Jade. There are other options. You could go to school and—”

“Caulder.” I couldn’t do this with him now. I knew he wanted to help me, but I was still struggling with the idea. I didn’t need to say anything more. He heard the plea in my voice and he understood. Something I was more grateful for than he could ever know.

“Alright. We don’t have to talk about it now. But do me a favor? At least hold off on the job hunt until the weekend? A storm’s coming up the coast and we’re supposed to get hit with some pretty nasty weather later.”

“What about you? Don’t you think you should reschedule if it’s going to be that bad?”

“I’m gonna try and make it back before it hits. Don’t worry, I’ll be home soon.” His lips brushed over mine. “I love you.”

Despite the cold air still carrying in through the open door, I warmed from head to toe.

Twenty Five

Hail pounded against the living room window. A harsh, repetitive tapping that sounded like a woodpecker on crack. Cal hadn’t made it back before the storm hit. And when it hit, it hit with a vengeance. It had been a mild winter—precipitation wise—so far, but Mother Nature was certainly making up for that now. The fire crackling beneath the mantle kept the room toasty warm, but still I snuggled deeper into the fuzzy blanket I had wrapped around me.

Mrs. Parks called to let us know that the storm had caused a surge in emergency cases. Some roads were nearly impassable and third shift was having a hard time getting in. It looked like she’d be stuck there all night. I just hoped that wherever Caulder was, he was smart enough to wait it out and not try to drive in it.

Shutting my eyes, I rubbed my cheek against the soft velvet throw pillow and considered taking a nap to sooth my nerves. Sleep was something that came in fits and starts most nights, broken up by frequent, vivid nightmares. They were never the same, but they all shared a common theme. My mother.

Sometimes she would be screaming at me. Saying horrible, embarrassing things, while people stood around, pointing and laughing. Sometimes Caulder would be there. Sometimes he’d laugh and point, too.

Sometimes we’d be alone and she’d look sad and betrayed. She’d tell me I abandoned her, after she gave up her life for me. That I was a selfish child. An ungrateful leech. That she needed me and I wasn’t there. She never seemed mad when she said these things. Just sad. Resigned to the truth of the matter. And these dreams cut worse than the angry ones.

But worst of all were the ones where she didn’t say a thing. The ones where I watched her waste away, slowly starving to death right before my eyes. Or the ones where she was cold and shivering beneath some bridge somewhere. Homeless. Hungry. Helpless.

I knew I didn’t need to worry about those things anymore. Mrs. Parks had taken care of it. But I did. I did because it was supposed to be me.
I
was the one she sacrificed her future for.
I
was the one she provided for—even in the most minimal of ways—she’d kept me alive and mostly healthy for eighteen years.
I
was the one who was supposed to return that favor. And I wasn’t. Just like she accused me of, night after night . . . I’d abandoned her.

The ringing of my phone jarred me awake before I realized I’d fallen asleep. Slapping my hand against the end table with my eyes still closed, I groped around until my fingers folded over the device. It continued to buzz against my palm as I dragged it in front of my face and slowly peeled my eyes open.  H
ome
flashed across the small screen.

In a heartbeat, I was sitting with the phone pressed to my ear. “Mom?”

“Not quite.” The deep voice skittered down the line, causing goose bumps to pop up across my arms and the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end. I knew that voice. And it wasn’t Michael.

“What are you doing in my apartment, DJ? Where’s my mom?”

“Oh, she’s here. And so is someone else.”

My stomach soured and I had to force back the fear eating away at my words. “What do you want?”

“I think you know what we want.”

I did. I just needed time to think. This was bad. Really bad. “Spell it out for me.”

“Stryker decided he was tired of waiting for your pretty little ass to come home. Consider this . . . incentive.” I could hear the smirk in his voice and it made my fingers curl.

“What did you do to my mother?” Dammit, that tremor I’d been fighting so hard to conceal broke through, betraying me.

“Nothing.
Yet
. She’s in the living room, having a drink. But she’s not going anywhere until we see your face. And if we don’t . . . let’s just say alcohol will be the least of your mother’s problems.”

Oh, shit. Crap. Crap. Crap
. “Don’t hurt her. Please, DJ. Please don’t do this.”

“
I’m
not the one who did this, Jade. That was all you. Now get your ass over here.
Now
.” The line went dead with an ominous click and I didn’t even stop to think.

Grabbing my coat from the hall closet, I slid my feet into my boots and tugged the hood over my head. My brain caught up with me somewhere near the middle of town, for all the good it did me. I had no idea what was waiting for me in that apartment. What did Stryker want with me? Was my mother hurt? Was she scared? Did she even know what was happening?

Pressing harder on the accelerator, I took a corner too fast and fishtailed into the oncoming lane. Luckily, I was the only one crazy enough to be out driving in that weather. My phone sat uselessly on the seat beside me. I couldn’t call Caulder. One person I cared about was already in danger because of my stupid decisions, I wouldn’t put another there. I briefly toyed with the idea of calling the police, but Stryker didn’t seem like the most stable human being. If he caught sight of cop cars pulling into the complex, there was no telling what he’d do. I couldn’t risk it. My best chance at getting us all out of this was to go in there and explain that I wasn’t the one who ratted him out.

Granted, a nice polite conversation with the giant, crazy convict wasn’t the most brilliant of plans, but it was the best I had.

Throwing the car into park, I glanced up at the building in front of me. The visibility was practically nonexistent, affording me no view. I took a deep breath and slowly peeled my fingers from the wheel.

Please don’t let this be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done
, was my mantra as I climbed step after step toward the third floor. By the time I reached the corridor, I couldn’t take it anymore. Barreling toward my door, I threw it open and stepped inside without hesitation.

“Welcome to the party. Took ya long enough.” DJ was sitting in the busted recliner, both feet kicked up on the coffee table in front of him.

Mom sat in the corner of the couch, looking peeved. But the way she was pressing herself into the cushions gave away her fear. She wasn’t stupid. “What the hell is going on, Jade? First, you desert me. Then, Michael takes off the minute the booze budget dries up for that blonde hussy in building eighteen. And then, these people come barging into my apartment. With
guns.
Looking for you and they refuse to—”

“Enough.” Stryker was even more terrifying up close. What felt like ten feet of solid muscle encased in black leather.

The barrel of the handgun swinging in her direction was the most effective silencing technique ever used on my mother. Her mouth snapped shut as her eyes widened in terror and my whole body locked up.

“Stop! Leave her alone. It’s me you want.”

“It is.” Turning his face to me, he kept the gun trained exactly where it was and continued speaking to my mother. “You sit still and shut up. Not another sound. I’ll deal with you later.”

“I . . . um . . .” I swallowed hard against the knot in my throat and twisted my fingers together so tightly they began to ache. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t—”

The gun shifted targets and I found it to be effective as a universal gag. My heart beat so violently that I was beginning to think I’d save him a bullet and just die of a heart attack right then and there.

“Please.” The whisper fell from my lips a desperate plea. “I didn’t call the police. It wasn’t me. I swear.”

Tears blurred my vision as all of the things I’d never do flashed through my mind. All of the people I’d be leaving behind. My mom. What would happen to her if he pulled that trigger? Would she be next? She’d be a witness to murder. Surely he couldn’t leave her alive. And Mrs. Parks. She’d worked so hard to give me a better life. And Cal . . .
Oh, Cal
. I bit my lip against the mournful wail begging to be set free.

“
Please
.” I choked on the word, not caring if Stryker could hear me. Knowing it wouldn’t make a difference either way.

I should have called the police. I should have called Caulder. I should have done
something
. Anything other than walk right through that front door. Now we were both as good as dead.

“Please. Just go. We can forget this ever happened.”

“You ratted me out. Got me put away.” The gun tipped sideways and I jolted with expectation, but nothing happened.

“I didn’t. I swear. I didn’t. Please.”

“You’re lying.” Stryker’s eyes narrowed on me and I shook my head violently.

“I’m not. I swear. I’m not. I was going to bring you the package, but when I got there the cops were already there. I just wanted to do what DJ told me to and get it over with. I swear. That’s all I did. I
swear
.” Tears were scalding paths down both cheeks, blinding me.

He considered that for a long moment and not even DJ was stupid enough to disrupt his silence. Then his shoulders squared and his frown deepened. “I don’t think I believe you. You want to know the penalty for lying to me?”

His arm swung wide. Mom barely registering what was happening before the gun was once again trained on her. His trigger finger clenched. And I moved.

They say that your life flashes before your eyes. It’s not true. It wasn’t my ugly past that I saw. A series of bad memories I might have been okay with ending. No, death isn’t that kind. It was my future I saw. Filled with light and love and happiness. Family and friends. Peace and joy. A future I would never get the chance to experience.

My feet left the floor, diving toward my mother, before a blast so loud it felt like the sound alone could cause my brain to explode. And suddenly I was flying in a completely different direction.

Pain—overwhelming and absolute—radiated from my chest as my back slammed against the floor. I blinked up at the ceiling trying to figure out what had happened. There were voices. Someone was screaming. And footsteps.

I was cold. I was so, so cold. And yet liquid heat pooled all around me.

My vision was clouded and my eyes felt like they were moving through syrup, but I forced them sideways. Mom was crouching on the couch, hands clamped over her mouth as she screamed and screamed and screamed. I could see her doing it, but it was becoming harder and harder to hear.

I wanted her.

I
needed
her.

Now more than ever.

My fingers slowly uncurled as I reached for her. She saw my hand straining in her direction. She looked right at it. Right at me. With disgust and revulsion.

She wasn’t going to reach out and take my hand. She wasn’t going to hold me. Comfort me. Tell me the things I needed to hear. And I was too tired to keep trying.

My hand dropped to the floor with a dull thud and I focused on my erratic breathing. It was fast and shallow, but it didn’t hurt. Nothing hurt anymore.

Michael was gone. For who knows how long. He’d left her. And still she hadn’t called me. She hadn’t chosen me over him. She hadn’t chosen me over the alcohol. She hadn’t chosen me at all.

Closing my eyes, I surrendered to the cold and the dark and the loneliness. Because I didn’t want it to hurt anymore.