Carry You Home (Carry Your Heart #2) (41 page)

I covered my face with shaky hands and inhaled sharply. I couldn't do this. I couldn't sit here in this house filled with so much sickness and suffering and imminent death. And tomorrow...tomorrow was the day I dreaded more than any other day in the entire year. Tomorrow I might as well not even bother getting out of bed.

The walls seemed to be closing in on me and just as suddenly, the hallway spun, but my feet were still rooted to the carpet with my hands tingling numbly around the scruff of Cooper's neck. I couldn't move. Terror gripped me. Panic smothered me. And then my legs gave out on me as I sank weightlessly onto the floor, clinging to my dog like my life depended on it.

This feeling of debilitating powerlessness was a familiar one, but this was the first serious panic attack I'd had in a long time. The first real one I'd ever had had happened after Padilla's break-in eight years ago and they'd never really left me since then. In fact, they'd only gotten worse right around the time I moved to New York, which, in retrospect, didn't really make sense considering that entire move was centered on taking control instead of losing it. In between then and now, I thought I'd had it under control. Therapy, some counseling, Cooper, and medication had seen to that. Then I found out my dad was sick.

With slow, focused breaths, my eyes flitted shut and finally, some oxygen started flowing through my lungs. I could breathe again. They never lasted that long and after one more deep inhale, I pulled my shit together and got up on my feet. The walls didn't seem quite as suffocating as they did before and my hands weren't clammy and tingly anymore, which was all a good sign that one had passed.

But I was still terrified. Still plummeting toward something I couldn't stop and couldn't control.

"Hey, Coop?" I murmured hoarsely into his fur.

His ears perked up at the sound of my voice and his big, brown eyes watched me intently, waiting for direction.

"Wanna go for a car ride?"

.
     
.
     
.

"What are you
doing
?" I muttered.

I shook my head at this stupid recklessness that found me here once again. After driving around aimlessly for an hour, something snapped. Ridiculously and impossibly snapped. This was the last place I should be and the only place I really wanted to be.

Cooper glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, gave me one more chance, and then pounced, nearly knocking the drinks all over the center console of Caleb's truck. Ugh. Now I just needed to get out of this truck.

After two weeks of driving this thing around, I really should've been used to it, but every time I opened the door, the familiarity curling around it was almost too much to bear. He had a newer, fancier truck since I last saw him, but it wasn't that. It was just him. Everywhere and in everything. The presets on the radio. The pine air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror. The Harley Davidson sticker in the back window. Even the color, a deep, magnetic blue, was all him. I hated it. And yet, I was still driving the damn thing around, wasn't I?

I gave Coop what he wanted and let him out, wincing as he took off for the closest patch of grass, which just happened to be right in front of the office, and proceeded to piss all over it.

"Nice, Coop," I grumbled. "Way to make a first impression."

From the looks of it, nobody was in the office to notice Cooper's little display. Lucky me.

To be fair, Caleb had no idea I was coming.
I'd
had no idea I was coming up until about five minutes ago. Somehow, I'd just sort of found my way here, starting with my aimless drive around town and ending with me standing in Sawyer Custom Builds' parking lot with a bag of take-out in one hand and a tray of drinks in the other.

I hadn't seen him since my dad's BMW took a shit and I'd had that fun little run-in with the Horsemen's current nemesis, but he'd called my dad's cell phone three times during these last two weeks. Once to quote me a price, which I still didn't trust was completely thorough, and the other two times to give me an update on the status of the parts and progress on my dad's car.

It was just easier that way. If we kept our distance and stayed behind our carefully-drawn lines in the sand, we could each just continue on as normally and as civilly as possible. All that, of course, completely flew in the face of my current predicament. Not to mention I was still sitting here wondering just
how
he had my dad's cell number. I had a feeling the answer to that might make my head explode.

Just like the last time I'd found my way here, every single person inside was engrossed in their work. Chrome plates littered each worker's individual work space, others were welding in the corner, another pair of workers were hand-painting decals onto the length of some chrome, tires were being replaced, and in another corner, an entire engine sat on a desk as one of Caleb's employees unscrewed a piece of it. It was all so efficient and organized. Everyone in their own area and playing their part, rolling along like a well-oiled machine.

A low whistle sounded from above my head and it took me a moment to find the source. Caleb leaned over a railing with his elbows on the ledge, grinning down at me with just a hint of surprise and confusion in his eyes. Without any other hesitation, he started down the flight of stairs, which I imagined could only lead to his apartment above the shop.

"Hey, Iz," he exhaled when we were finally standing face to face. "What's up?"

I gingerly lifted the bag of food and drink tray in my hands. "I thought I'd bring you lunch. Unless you ate already...?"

His eyebrows furrowed as his eyes dropped to my hands and back up to me again. I couldn't really blame him. I didn't know what I was doing here either.

"Nah, I didn't eat yet," he rocked back on his heels and tilted his chin toward the bag of food with a smirk. "Whatcha got in there?"

"Fast food," I shrugged. "I figured if I cooked something, you'd be too afraid to eat it."

His lips twitched in amusement. "That sounds about right."

I just rolled my eyes at him and held out the drink tray, which he took wordlessly from me. That was right around the time Cooper remembered he was technically supposed to have my back as he padded over to me, sat on his haunches at my feet, and eyed Caleb up curiously.

Caleb's eyebrows lifted as he quietly observed Cooper lean into me and raise his left paw up for Caleb to shake.

"Geez," I muttered under my breath.

With his eyes glittering, Caleb crouched down to Cooper's level and shook his paw.

I rolled my eyes and gestured to my dog. "Caleb, meet Cooper. Cooper, Caleb."

When you put their names together so closely—nope, not going there. Subconsciously or not, their names had nothing to do with each other and that was what I just had to keep telling myself.

Caleb dropped Cooper's paw so he could scratch in between his ears and I thought I saw Cooper's eyes roll back into his head. Just great.

"Hey there, buddy," Caleb murmured to him. "You been taking good care of her, right?"

My eyes dropped warily to my dog, who was looking at Caleb like he hung the moon and the stars as long as he just kept scratching him like that. "It kinda defeats the purpose of having a guard dog when he just walks up to every stranger he meets like they're his best friend."

Caleb's lips twisted into a frown as he glanced back down at my dog.

"It's nice to have a little security when I'm in my apartment or just walking around the city, you know?" I shrugged.

He was silent for a moment like he was considering my words and my life in New York carefully and his eyes dimmed. "Right."

This slightly darker mood had me shifting from side to side uncomfortably and I gestured to the food in my hands so we could get moving already.

"So you wanna eat or what?"

Just like that, the cloud lifted and he flashed me a bright smile. "Yeah. Let's go. I got a picnic table behind the shop with our name on it."

.
     
.
     
.

Well, if this wasn't just a basketful of shitty memories. I didn't know how many times Caleb and I had sat at a picnic table eating lunch together and I'd all but forgotten how much I'd used to look forward to this whenever we shared a shift. It was weird, to say the least. And painful. And wonderful. And all the other things I just couldn't let myself feel.

If Caleb noticed my discomfort, how unsettled I felt sitting here, how desperately I wanted to just reach across the picnic table and touch him, he didn't show it. In fact, he unwrapped his cheeseburger, took a healthy bite, and watched Cooper inspect the lot without as much as a glance my way.

But any leeway and space he'd afforded me just now flew right out the window when he glanced up at me from his burger and asked, "So I'd like to believe you brought me lunch today because you wanted to see me, but I don't really think that's why, is it?"

He was closer to the truth than he knew, but admitting that out loud wouldn't help me right now. It wouldn't really help him either.

I sucked in a deep breath and smiled. It was brief and forced and it was more for his benefit than mine, but I didn't know what else to do.

I shrugged and dove into the little speech I'd practiced on my way here. "I've been a complete bitch to you since I've been back and I'm sorry."

His burger dropped onto the greasy paper in front of him and he leaned forward, opening his mouth to correct me, but I beat him to the punch.

"Come on, Caleb," I smiled softly and something shifted in his blue eyes as he leaned back. "You know it's true. I found that contract, came charging in here without even really thinking about it and blamed you for something that wasn't really your fault. I should've been thanking
you, not yelling at you."

Caleb sighed heavily. "You were blind-sided by the whole thing, Iz. Your dad knew you'd feel that way and he kept it from you anyway and I played my part by agreeing to it in the first place. You had every right to be pissed at both of us."

"And what about the fit I threw about the starter, huh?"

He frowned at me. "I wouldn't exactly call it a fit."

"Fine. Whatever you wanna call it," I batted a hand at him. "But I wasn't very nice about that whole mess either. All you've been doing is trying to help me and I've just been making your life difficult every step of the way."

His lips quirked up in a smile and he lifted a shoulder as he swept his burger off the table again. "And it's been a pleasure."

In my need to change the subject, I thoughtlessly spewed out something I'd never planned on telling him.

"Honestly, I think I just needed to get out of the house for awhile," I told him quietly.

Goddammit. What the hell was my problem? Now that I'd opened it up, he was just going to ask more questions that I wouldn't want to answer. I never should've bothered coming here. What did I really think was going to happen?

"How's he doing?" Caleb called out to me from across the picnic table.

I just shrugged helplessly. "He's dying. Everyday's just a little bit worse than the last one."

He nodded and glanced down at his hands for just a moment. "If you need—"

"I got it, okay? It's not on you to take care of him."

"Right," Caleb nodded tightly.

As far as I was concerned, it wasn't really any of his business either, but we didn't need to go there. And then my mouth opened before I could stop myself.

"It was just really bad this morning," the word vomit tumbled out of me whether I liked it or not. "His medicine was making him throw up and I couldn't get him off the bathroom floor. He's just not himself anymore. It's eating away at him and I can see it. I can literally
see
it happening and there's nothing I can do to help him..."

I trailed off, sucking in mouthfuls of air but that didn't stop the tightening in my chest. Or the tingling in my fingertips. Or the dryness in my mouth. I was right back where I was this morning with trembling hands and sweaty palms only this time, I wasn't alone. This time, I had an audience.

"Iz?"

I glanced up only to find Caleb leaning into the table on his elbows, his forehead creased in a deep line, and his eyes scanning me from top to bottom.
 

"Iz?" he asked again when I didn't answer. "You okay?"

My throat tightened like a string and I squeezed my eyes shut, pushing off the bench so I could go...I didn't know where. Somewhere away from here. Somewhere away from him. The reality was that I'd come here today because I wanted to see him and because I knew seeing him would somehow make me feel better. And now I was running from it, scrambling away from the table and aimlessly backpedalling into the gravel at my feet.

"I just, um, I need to go to the bathroom."

Caleb, unfortunately, had already leapt up from the table and was hot on my heels. "It's the second door on your right."

I pivoted around to face the garage, telling myself he wouldn't follow me all the way inside, that he would just leave to ride out this panic attack in peace. Who was I kidding? There was no such thing as peace when Caleb Sawyer was around.

"Don't follow me," I snapped over my shoulder, but there was no point. He was right behind me, so close, in fact, that I could smell that familiar, heady scent of musk and gasoline trailing right underneath my nostrils.