Chapter 22
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
CHANEY
Nova has been tense since Christmas Day, and apparently, him teaching me how to drive added to his stress.
Each time I glance anywhere near where the keys are hanging up with longing in my eyes, he walks over, rips them off the holder, and pockets them.
I may have been a little ambitious, but I’d never felt anything as enthralling and freeing as I did while having my foot on the pedal and the wheel grasped in my hands—I took it too far, and now, he’ll never give me another chance.
There have been a lot of secret phone calls he takes in his office, and each time, a shiver races up and down my spine.
I know it’s about our father, and until he’s caught and locked away, I’ll always be watching Freyja’s and my back.
I overheard a part of his conversation once, and it had cold chills dancing along my flesh.
Nova, and whomever he was talking to, theorize that the reason he wants us both back is because he planned on selling us to the highest bidder once he was ready to release us from his custody.
Since then, I’ve been more vigilant and more determined to learn how to fight and protect me and my sister should we ever find ourselves alone.
When I approached Nova, telling him I wanted to learn some self-defense, he recoiled and tried to talk me out of it.
But once I laid out my reasons, first and foremost that I wanted to be able to defend myself if I came across someone whose intent was to cause me harm, he caved and agreed that I should be able to protect myself.
Freyja had zero desire in learning alongside me, but I finally talked her around and for days now, we’ve been getting lessons.
“Protect your face!” Indiana shouts at me as I lower my guard. “If your opponent is able to blind you by punching you in the face, you won’t see what’s coming at you and that’s when they’ll get the best of you and take you down.”
“Sorry,” I apologize as I reposition my arms. Sweat glistens on my skin as I crouch down in the protective stance he’s all but hammered into my head.
He wants it to become natural, instinctual, he wants it to seep into my mind after doing it enough times—not wanting it to be something I have to stop and think about.
“You’re getting better about it, Chaney. Just stop thinking and letting your brain overrule your instincts, start reacting,” Indiana instructs.
The next few hours are grueling as he takes me through one exercise to another.
By the time we call it a day, I’m a limp mess.
My arms and legs are flimsy and walking is nearly impossible.
But I refuse to give him any reason whatsoever to stop instructing me so I force one foot in front of the other as I ambulate into the house.
Freyja isn’t having as difficult a time as I currently am, but that’s mostly because she’s in stamina training, not hand-to-hand combat like I am.
Indiana’s goal with my sister is to build her muscle tone and strengthen her lungs.
“I’ll be back in a couple of days,” Indiana tells me as he packs his bag with his gloves, tape, and other supplies. “I want you to run while tossing punches, hit the mat and practice your popups, and for fuck’s sake, try to get it through your thick head to shield.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” I inquire.
“Have Freyja and Nova toss some practice jabs at you,” he suggests. “I’d rather them be unsuspecting, and randomly done. I don’t want you to have time to prepare or watch for them. I’ll talk to Nova about it and he and your sister can come up with a game plan.”
“Okay,” I agree. Hopefully, their random attacks get me out of my head and I’ll learn to listen to my gut instead of letting my mind command me.
“What the fuck!” I yell as I come out of the bathroom after my shower the next day, a towel wrapped around my chest and duck from my sister’s thrown fists. My hands clutch the knot of the towel instead of coming up and guarding my face.
Freyja frowns, announcing, “I’m not scary enough. I need to think outside of the box.”
“Yeah, you do that.” Wearing my own scowl, I gape at her in blatant astonishment, my mouth hanging open from the startle because my baby sister isn’t a fighter under any circumstances, and it’s bizarre to have her throwing hands while coming at me with anything not resembling a hug.
I knew that Indiana was going to talk to Nova and that this was going to happen, but the shock factor outweighs anything else.
This isn’t going to work, I’m not unnerved by her or scared of her in the least. I know her better than anyone else, and if anything, I’m well aware she doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.
Sighing, I get dressed for the day then toss my hair up in a messy bun.
Nova introduced us to YouTube, and according to one of the entrepreneurs Freyja and I like to watch videos of, this is a good way to still look stylish but not have your hair in your face.
She calls it her homeless-chic look, and I’m all about it.
“Holy shitballs!” I holler as I hit the ground and roll, my hands instantly coming up and guarding my face. This is the fifth attack on me in no less than twelve hours. Nova and Freyja are taking turns catching me unexpectedly.
Freyja stands a half foot away from me, a beaming smile on her face with a felt baseball bat hanging at her side. “I did it!” she squeals as her empty hand pumps in the air, fisted with triumph.
“You swung a bat at my head?” I ask, my tone full of bewilderment.
“It was Nova’s idea,” she proudly states, glancing over her shoulder where I notice Nova standing. “He thought that if you saw an object instead, you’d get it, and you did!”
“Relax, Chaney. It’s a kid’s bat, nothing but foam. I knew it wouldn’t hurt you if it made contact with your face,” Nova reasons. “And I was right, you can thank me now.”
“I’m gonna thank you with my foot up your ass,” I grumble out my threat.
“You’d have to catch me first,” he smarts off. “Think you could do that?”
“With my hands tied behind my back,” I sassily remark.
“Care to put your money where your mouth is?” he asks, taunting me.
“You want to make a bet with me?” I ask. “Bring it on.”
Here’s something I should’ve thought further about before taunting Nova and agreeing to a damn thing—you never tempt or barter with a man who rides a motorcycle and chases people for a living.
I’m sprawled out on the grass, panting for breath as I ask Freyja, “You know that saying about killing the cat with curiosity?”
“Yeah,” she answers, giggling. “What about it?”
“Next time I’m feeling ballsy, please remind me about it,” I beg.
Needless to say, I lost. Big time. He was like a phantom, there one minute and gone the next.
I never stood a chance, and now, I have to help him pump out the septic system and I’m not looking forward to doing it.
Especially once he explained it to me. He even made sure I’m prepared for the foul smell, which already has my stomach turning since he went into explicit detail about the odor.
According to Nova, he usually hires a company to do it for him, but with our father still out there and avoiding the law, staying one step in front of them, Nova’s rented the necessary equipment from the company and we’re manually doing it ourselves and will drop the shit off—no pun intended, and pay for the disposal.
“Maybe we should get you a hazmat suit,” Freyja jokes.
Turning my head sideways, I glare at her. “This amuses you, doesn’t it, sister?”
“It really does,” she states, a playful smirk marring her face. I roll my eyes but hold back my smart aleck retort because it’s good to see this side of her. She’s coming into her personality and I’m enjoying every moment of her discovering who she is and who she wants to be.
“Love you, Freyja.”
“Love you back, Chaney.”
We reach out for each other and lace our pinky fingers together, looking up at the bright blue sky and relishing in the peace and beauty of the outside world as it encompasses us.
I’ll never take this experience with my sister for granted—it’s like a childhood dream coming true.
I used to sit around and daydream about feeling the fresh air as well as the sunshine on my face while staring up at the sky, making mental pictures out of the clouds, and creating a story behind them to match what I’m envisioning.
Freedom feels good.