Chapter Thirty-Eight
Mikayla
I place my bag on the rack inside the closet. My mind is racing with all sorts of negative thoughts, and my hands shake. I stand and shake them out.
“You know you aren’t alone,” Caine says, walking toward me after setting his small travel bag on the desk in the corner of the room.
I look around the space. It’s like every other hotel I’ve stayed at.
Other than the ridiculous plane, Caine is back to being his normal, down-to-Earth self.
I need him to just be normal. The flashy plane only amplified my already out-of-control anxieties.
I know Caine loves me. I fully believe we are in a good place in our relationship, be it a little fast. But it just intimidates me.
“You may meet her,” I point out worriedly. And that’s just one more thing that has me on edge.
“And I’m not worried. Come here,” Caine says, taking my hands and shaking out my arms. “Breathe, sweetheart, just breathe.”
He doesn’t tell me to calm down or relax. I might smack him if he did. I wouldn’t really, but I can’t stand it when people tell me to calm down like I don’t have a logical reason for feeling the way I do.
“Let’s just get the truck and get this over with,” I suggest, resigned that this day will just suck.
Jack walks in front of me, unlocking the door to our childhood home. The familiar scent of my youth welcomes me. It’s a mix of the fruity scent of our house cleaner and the sweet smell of vanilla. It’s always smelled like this. I don’t know how, but it’s home.
Has it really been over five months since I’ve been here? I wonder as I look around the house. No sign of my mother. Small favors!
“I’m gonna check out my room, but I’m pretty sure I took everything when I moved out,” Jack says as we walk up the stairs. He goes left and I go right.
“This is where you grew up,” Caine whispers.
I turn around to see him looking at the pictures that line the hallway wall.
On one side are caricatures of Jack and I when we went to San Francisco when we were little.
The artist drew one of me and my dad on a tandem bicycle.
We hadn’t ridden on one in the city, but my dad must have mentioned it to the artist.
The others are individual pieces. Jack as a teenager surfing, my mom holding shopping bags in Union Square, and one of me with a thoughtful look, and a book open in front of me sitting on a blanket in Golden Gate Park.
My dad’s picture is of him flying a kite, which is also something we did while we visited San Francisco.
Along the other wall are photographs of the family. School pictures, me standing beside Jack at his graduation. Another with my dad and Jack.
“You look like your father,” Caine says as he looks at the picture. My mouth drops open when I see him remove several of them from the wall, tucking them under his arm. “Let’s get your room done.”
Caine has to push me toward the door to shake me out of the initial shock. I wanted them but didn’t have the guts to take them.
“Suitcases?” Caine asks.
I point to the closet. “I put them on the top rack,” I explain.
Once we have everything open and ready, Caine and I work fast, folding and piling the cases up with the clothes I have left. It’s quite a bit. I actually hadn’t taken as much as I thought.
“You don’t need the furniture,” he tells me as I stare at my old room. “But do you want any of the blankets?”
A feeling of sadness washes over me. This is the last time I’ll see this room, look out this window to see Lake Washington.
“No, I’m good,” I say, zipping up one of my bags.
Caine collected all my photographs and picture frames, packing them up between my clothes to keep them safe from damage.
My bathroom is devoid of all my things. My bedroom closet and drawers are now bare. It’s a strange feeling, knowing I’ll never be back here again.
The sound of a door slamming shakes me out of my pity party. I turn and see Caine clench his jaw. We know who it is. We had just hoped we would be able to avoid her.
“I got your luggage, sweetheart,” Caine says as he kisses my brow. “I’m here. I won’t let her hurt you.”
I nod my head. I want to believe him. I know he’ll try. But my mother’s vitriol cuts like a knife even he can’t protect me from.
Jack stands at the door, a single large duffel bag in his hand. “You done?” he asks softly.
The look of unease on his face is all I need to see to know he doesn’t want to be here any longer than I do.
“I’m done,” I say, nodding to Caine, who also has some of my luggage.
I grab the last suitcase and a single bag full of my toiletries and swing it over my shoulder as we make our way down the stairs.
“Well, hello,” I hear my mother.
Clearly, she’s seen Caine.
“Ma’am,” I hear Caine say politely as I make my way down the steps.
“I’m hardly old enough to be called ma’am,” my mother coos.
I think I may have just thrown up a little inside my mouth, but I force myself down the last step where I come face to face with my mother.
Her eyes dart to me and then Jack, who stands behind me. She’s thinner, her eyes shadowed, her skin more weathered than last I saw her. Maybe her Botox is wearing off.
“I see you came for your things. I’ll call the police if you take anything valuable,” my mom says directly to me.
My heart pounds at her accusation. But I keep my mouth shut. Nothing good can come of me saying anything.
“We didn’t take any of your jewelry, Mom,” Jack says, and I can hear the derision in his voice. “We didn’t even go into your room.” His voice is clipped and direct.
“So, that’s it?” Mom asks, raising her arm and pointing it at me. “She’s poisoned you against me,” my mom says in a holier than thou tone.
“No, you did that well enough all on your own,” Jack claps back.
He places his hand on the back of my shoulder and pushes me toward Caine.
“So, this must be the boyfriend,” my mom says, eyeing Caine up and down before cold eyes stop on his face.
“If you think you’re getting a girl with money, you have another think coming.
Mikayla has nothing. She gets nothing. So, if that’s why you’re with her, you’re wasting your time.
” I stiffen under Jack’s grip when my mom looks at me. “You’re such…”
“You know nothing, Heidi. Nothing. But here’s a little bit of truth for you. Caine isn’t with me because he thinks I have money. He actually loves me. Love. A word you seem to know nothing about. And I deserve to be loved!” I yell at her.
My throat feels as though it’s swelling, and I lift my chin in defiance of my tears.
“You selfish…”
“That’s enough,” Caine says. “Mick, go to the truck. Jack, is that everything?” Caine asks, turning to my brother.
“Yeah. Looks like we didn’t need the truck after all,” Jack says. “I didn’t leave much here, I guess.”
“Then I’ll call the pilot, see if he can stick around for another night,” Caine suggests. “Otherwise, we may still have to drive.”
“Pilot?” my mother asks. But no one responds. “Jack, are you seriously letting them mooch off you?” my mom asks, her lips twisted in disgust. “You can’t afford a private plane.”
“Goodbye,” Jack says, and I hear the break in his voice.
I take his hand in mine and squeeze it. “You’re the best of men,” I whisper to him as we follow Caine out the door.
“You’re such an ungrateful bitch!” my mom yells. “Taking advantage of your brother, taking his money, just like you took from your father. You just take and take! I did you a favor! Now you’re living with this lowlife? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
For a moment I stop moving. I shut my eyes and let the words hit their target. My heart.
“Dad knew me,” I say softly.
“Get your shit in the truck now!” Caine bellows from the hatch of the truck.
I walk over as he walks past me, my hands shaking. I turn in surprise as he walks up to my mother.
“Say goodbye to your daughter. This is the last time you’re going to see her.
I will not tolerate you speaking this way to her or anyone else.
Get therapy. Because you’re going to end up alone.
And when we have babies, you sure as hell will not be welcome anywhere near them! ” he yells, his face red with rage.
“Excuse…”
“No,” Caine says, turning to Jack and me. “In the truck now!”
I practically jump to attention, like he’s a drill sergeant or something. But I’m not about to argue. I round the back to the passenger side and hop in.
Caine got a Ford F150, thinking we’d have more boxes. With my mom coming home early, any chance of me checking out anything of my father’s is squashed with her arrival.
My brother jumps into the front passenger seat, and we wait as Caine pushes back up the back hatch, locking it in place before jumping into the driver’s side.
I look out the window to see my mother, red-faced and crying as she watches us drive away.
“That was intense,” Jack says, leaning back in his seat and shutting his eyes.
“That woman could make a saint into a murderer,” Caine grumbles. His hands grip the wheel so tightly I worry he’ll break the wheel.
I reach forward, and through his headrest, I caress the back of his neck.
“Thank you,” I say to him, trying to calm his nerves.
Caine’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. “I love you.”
“I love you,” I reply softly.
“That woman is never allowed in our home,” he adds. “There’s something wrong with her.”
Jack looks back at me, reaching his hand over the center console to the back. I take it and hold his hand as we drive to the hotel.
And as we drive away, I suddenly realize I’m homesick—for Crystal Falls.