Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
CALLIE
My father was in charge of babysitting me today.
It was a rather ridiculous sentiment, but after the past two weeks, I didn’t really give a shit. I was beyond caring about who watched over me. Some days it was Killian, others it was Red, and occasionally it was my boyfriend.
I started speaking to him again, but it came in the form of me telling him what to do while he fucked me.
We quickly found that to be our quickest and most effective way to get back to normal.
I needed him emotionally, but after a while, he was being so supportive that it bugged me, and it felt like I couldn’t be angry with him over joining.
And I was furious. But after time, I realized there was nothing I could do to change it.
So I was either going to accept it, or lose him.
I wasn’t really ready for either option, but losing myself to the orgasms he provided so willingly seemed like a good place to start.
I sat on the couch inside the cabin with an oversized hoodie over my body while a sitcom played on the television. My father and I hadn’t spoken since it happened.
I was getting better at staying awake and not sleeping through each day, but it was still difficult to put a term to what happened.
Kidnapped.
“Callie, I made dinner,” my dad said softly from the kitchen.
I peered over my shoulder, making eye contact. “Not hungry.”
Hadn’t been hungry in a while. Only Wes could get me to squeeze one of those kid Gogurt yogurt packets into my mouth, occasionally a smoothie, but I just wasn’t in the mood to eat.
My dad stood there for a while before he clicked his tongue.
“That’s enough, get up.” He moved to where I was sitting and tugged on my wrists.
“Dad!”
He shook his head. “No, this isn’t you. No fucker on this planet gets to dull your shine, baby girl. Let’s go.”
That was likely the most he’d say on the subject of me being taken, but I wasn’t surprised.
He had me walking, my feet were bare, but he didn’t seem to mind as he pushed his way outside.
The sun was setting, dusk was hanging low in the sky, making the ground shadowed.
My dad broke away, striding toward the small shed.
It was tiny, couldn’t even fit an entire body inside.
Dad used it for shovels, bug spray and apparently our treasure jars.
“You still have those?” I asked, coming up behind him.
“We haven’t made a jar of treasure in a long time. What do you say, should we bury it?”
I laughed, thinking how ridiculous it would be to bury purple sand at the age of eighteen.
“Come on, there’s still magic left in there.” He pointed at my heart, and for some reason, it made me sniff. Then a tear trailed down my face.
He moved past me, leading us to a patch of dirt, where he kneeled down.
His leather cut was still on, and I stared at the president patch as another tear slipped free.
He was a powerful man, and the fact that he was out here with me, not just biding his time but spending time with me, turned me into a melted mess.
“Which color should we do, honey? We don’t have purple, but we have some red sand. Want to try it, and what if we add some gold flakes?”
I choked on a sob as I laughed. “Where are you seeing gold flecks or red sand? I see an empty jar, without even our usual purple sand inside.”
My dad leaned in close, pulling up a palmful of dirt. “You have to use your imagination, sweetie. You used to love to do that when you were little. Just close your eyes and pretend a little.”
His shoulder bumped mine, and for whatever reason, I took a deep breath and gently tugged the jar from him. Twisting the cap, my gaze lifted to his, and he poured the dirt from his hand into the jar.
I repeated the same old words we’d used since I was little. “For the magic.”
Dad added another handful of dirt, and said, “For the dreams.”
We both continued our tradition until the jar was full, and then Dad secured the lid once more and began digging the hole to bury it in.
“You will come back stronger, Callie. You’re a Stone. If you aren’t sure how to be strong, you look to me and I’ll show you.”
His lips landed on top of my head as he pulled me into a side hug. I relaxed in his embrace and considered that perhaps there was some magic in those jars, because for the first time in weeks I let free a genuine smile, feeling happy in a way I feared wouldn’t happen again.
Six Months Later
Wes was late again.
I wasn’t surprised. I’d grown up in this life, I knew the schedules, the runs, the way it worked.
I had learned how to keep myself busy over the years.
I learned how to disappear into the background, dream, create fantasies about living a normal life with normal parents, and one day, be a wife with an adoring husband who had a normal job, who would be home for dinner and bedtimes.
He’d be there to read to our kids at night, and to help make breakfast in the mornings.
It was a fool’s dream.
Watching the shadows flicker on the wall made me tense up.
Something about the way the movement of the branches outside looked like arms, and hands.
All these months later, and still my brain would occasionally reach out, reminding me it was missing pieces of what had happened that night.
I had nothing but darkness and a hole in my heart.
Fear rode me, using me like a rag doll. I was always afraid, and while it had already been six months since it happened, nights like these were difficult to shake the feeling in my gut that someone else was coming for me.
Finally, the rumble of an engine cut through the silence, and a pair of headlights flashed on the far wall. I heard his boots on the porch, and then the door unlocking.
Within minutes he was hovering over me.
“Hey, did I wake you?” His lips landed on my forehead, then my nose, and eventually my neck.
I pushed my hands into Wes’s hair, loving that he was home. Regardless of how angry I was that he was late again, I was always happy when he returned.
“Where did you have to go tonight, why are you so late?” my voice was raspy with sleep that taunted me but never came.
Wesley’s eyes gleamed in the darkness, the lights from outside illuminating enough of his face for me to make out his expression. He was already shutting me out.
“Babe, you know I can’t talk about it with you.”
He didn’t call me babe very often, because I hated it. He called me River.
Why was I suddenly babe?
I let him go and withdrew my hands. “Fine.”
Another kiss landed on my chest, this time over my heart.
“Let me shower, and I’ll come apologize properly for being late.”
I stared at the ceiling as he moved around the room, until I heard the water turn on. Tomorrow was the club picnic, and I already knew what would be expected of me, and I was already dreading it.
I had worn my property patch when I was around the club, but every time I did, there was a slice of my pride that seemed to be cut from me.
I never wanted this life. I didn’t get to choose the father I had, or the mom.
I didn’t get to choose my home, or the car we drove, or the way I was picked up from school as a little girl.
I didn’t get to choose anything about my life, except Wes, it seemed, and now he’d been taken from me too.
Recently, after learning of what Wes had done, and coming to terms with how he’d made his bed, and I was reluctantly going to lie in it with him, I had come to terms with my anger over the situation. Acceptance led to hurt, and a gaping wound where the club was concerned.
I completely detested how happy Wes was with his place in the club.
It was as though he’d found a new family that fit him perfectly, and the connection he had with my dad and Killian was so tight that there was no question he’d become a high-ranking member.
Killian was the vice president, but Wes was directly under him and was included in every decision my dad made for the club, which took all of his time.
Wesley owned the mechanic shop on paper, but he hadn’t set foot inside the garage in six months.
Wes had hinted at getting married ever since we were seventeen, and now here we were.
I’d just turned nineteen and there wasn’t a single conversation we’d had about it since.
In fact, I hardly saw him, and when I did, it was at home.
Tossing the covers off my legs, I sat up and took a calming breath.
The shadows continued to flicker along the far wall as the branches swayed outside.
The water from the shower turned off, and before Wes could come out, I had to push down these raw emotions.
I wanted just one night where we didn’t argue about his new role.
It’s all we seemed to do anymore. I had to focus on the good and assume it would get easier.