The Higher You Fly Page 13

  She bowed her head. "You weren't alone in how you felt."

  "That's where you're wrong. The only thing that kept me away from you were the bars holding me in my cell." He stretched out his legs and hooked his hands under his armpits.

  "Caiden, I—."

  He held up his hand, stopping her. "Far as I'm concerned, I've said my peace because I owed you a reason why we had sex the other night. I instigated what happened, and I had no right to do that. I'm sorry."

  He heaved himself off the couch and grabbed his coat off the coffee table. "Bundle up. I'll take you home."

  She stood on shaky legs and put on her coat. After wanting a heart to heart with him since she'd returned to Federal and found him at the gas station, she walked out of his house feeling emptier than ever. He honestly believed she'd walked away from him and never looked back.

  Inside the truck, she stared at the snowflakes falling in the beams of the headlights. She understood bars keeping him from the one person who owned his heart. Ten years. God, what he must've gone through. He was stronger than her. He'd always been the one who could handle the hardships in life.

  His childhood had been buried deep in poverty, relying on cheese and milk from the government, second-hand clothes from the local churches, and living above a bar. He never complained and instead played right into society's hands on what they expected from him, which was absolutely nothing.

  She'd seen how he was ignored, avoided, and looked down on. It was his ability to keep going despite the lack of motivation provided to him that had drawn her to him in the first place. He was his own man and did his own thing. That kind of strength was rare.

  A bad guy from the wrong side of town.

  Exactly what a good girl from a prestigious family who lived up on the hill needed.

  The snow came down heavier, blocking the outside world. Her head throbbed. She could tell him he hadn't been alone believing in them, but he wouldn't believe her. Her absence spoke volumes. Twenty years of hurt scarred his heart. That's where she differed from him. He left no scars on her, only deep grief. Sometimes, she believed it would've been better if he had died.

  Her eyes filled with tears and she blinked them away. At least if he had died, she could've accepted that she'd never have him in her life again. Except he was alive and even if he would've been clear across the world or married, she'd still grieve.

  Caiden pulled onto her road. The truck slid sideways before he steered it straight, staying in the tracks from earlier. Her heart raced, and her fingers tingled. She dug her toes into her boots having difficulty breathing deep enough to fill her lungs. Even thinking of him dropping her off at home and driving away brought on a panic attack.

  He stopped the truck beside her car. She took off her seatbelt, needing to get outside in the cold air. Flinging open the door, she stumbled out. The last thing she wanted him to witness was her falling apart.

  "Jolene?" Caiden stood in front of the truck. "I'll walk you to the door."

  She nodded, even though he probably couldn't see her in the dark. She remained out of the area of the floodlight.

  Leading the way to the porch, she broke out in a sweat. At the door, she turned around and found him standing in the yard at the bottom of the steps. The look of absolute exhaustion on his face made the decision of what she knew she had to do the second he'd left her in his living room to escape his feelings.

  "Caiden?" She swallowed hard. "Will you wait for a few minutes while I run inside?"

  He nodded.

  She unlocked the door and leaving it wide open least he try to leave, she'd see him go and stop him. Hurrying to her bedroom, she opened the closet and removed a box from the top shelf. She removed the lid and removed the journal she hadn't looked at since she'd had to say goodbye to her dreams.

  Her vision blurred, lights darting in the blackening aura. She'd never shared her past with anyone. Not Lux. Not Casey. Not her parents, who refused to talk about anything to do with Caiden.

  She walked through the house, praying she'd make it to Caiden before she passed out. Not even aware of when she stepped outside or moved down the steps, she stood in front of him with the end of her dream. Tomorrow, she'd wake up, and reality would be there to crush her heart, and there would be nothing left to protect her.

  "You'll find all your answers in here." She handed him the journal. "I just want you to know it wasn't only you."

  He looked down at his hand holding her gift and back up to her eyes. "Jolene?"

  She stepped back, turned, and walked up on the porch and into the house. Locking the door, she went straight to the bathroom and heaved into the toilet. Falling to her knees, she finally lost the last piece of dignity she'd tried so hard to retain.

  CHAPTER 21

  Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage. — Lao Tzu

  Ten o'clock at night and every light in Caiden's house was on. He sat on his bed with his back against the wall, his legs straight, his ankles crossed. Jolene's journal laid on his thigh and the beer he'd opened and hadn't drunk yet leaned against the side of his leg.

  He placed his hand on the blue journal with a sunflower in the bottom right corner. The leather strap holding the pages closed was knotted several times as if warning him that what was inside could not be contained once freed.

  A part of him wanted to burn the book.

  He'd felt the tug from her hand as she handed it over to him as if she'd changed her mind. That given a choice, she'd take the journal back and hide it forever. Though it was her strength, her need to share with him, that made the decision for her to let go.

  He couldn't imagine what was held within the pages that could change anything. The facts wouldn't change. She'd left him, never holding on to her promise to stay with him. And, he'd kept loving her.

  Needing fortification to break open the past and relive everything again, he drank deep from the bottle of beer. He worked the leather strips apart. She'd tied it four times and age had worn into the leather. Whenever she had finished whatever she needed to write down, she'd sealed the journal and never again opened the book.

  His pulse accelerated as he cracked open the cover to the first page, recognizing Jolene's handwriting.

  May 20th

  ___________

  I hate it here. I hate my room. I hate the therapist and the group meetings. I don't belong here. I'm supposed to cooperate and write down how I'm feeling every day to make myself better. The doctor has given me a choice. I can either write and eventually get out of here, or I can stay at the clinic until I do the assignment.

  Caiden frowned and thumbed through the journal. Every page had an entry. He went to page two.

  May 21st

  ___________

  Breakfast

  Group

  Free time in the courtyard

  Lunch

  Appointment with Dr. Virann

  Nap

  Dinner

  Spent free time in my room alone

  I'm supposed to write down one feeling I had today. It's hate. I hate my parents for putting me here. It's not a clinic like they told me. It's an institution.

  May 22nd

  ___________

  I'm tired. I was forced to take medication this morning or have extra chores. I took the medicine so I could go back to my room. I don't want to be around the others.

  May 23rd

  ___________

  Every day is the same. I want to go home.

  May 24th

  ___________

  There's a woman here who was in a car accident and her husband died. At least she knows where he is. I don't know where Caiden is or if he's okay. I think of him alone, in a cell, and not being able to contact me and I want to break out of here. They lock every door and window.

  May 25th

  ___________

  Dr. Virann wants me to write down one thing I wish for. There is only one thing I wish for. I want Caiden.

&n
bsp; Caiden pinched the bridge of his nose. Her parents had put her in an institution...for what? He'd been arrested May third. He was sentenced in court on June fifth. During that time, Jolene had been admitted to some kind of medical facility, where she wanted to leave. He flipped the page.

  May 26th

  ___________

  Dr. Virann agreed that I could keep what I have written in my journal private and keep the book in my room if I agreed to aversion therapy and participated in group therapy sessions. After signing the contract, I chanted Caiden's name in my head while Dr. Virann talked into the microphone that fed into the headphones. She can't read my thoughts. My thoughts are mine and Caiden's. This journal is mine. My parents have taken everything away from me by putting me here, but no one can take away my feelings.

  Aversion therapy? Caiden let his head fall back against the wall and closed his eyes. To stop her from doing what? Loving him? He brought his chin forward and threw his head back, banging his skull against the sheetrock. Jolene had been young, only seventeen years old. There was nothing wrong with her. She was perfect. Perfect for him.

  He wanted to close the journal and kill her parents, but he needed to know why they'd sent her away. The next hour went by without lifting his gaze from the pages until he reached the middle of the journal and couldn't take all the information she shared anymore.

  The clinic was no more than an institution, a prison. The nurses and doctors were her guards. They even kept her locked in her room if she showed any sign of rebellion—and she'd fought them every step of the way, refusing to believe their lies.

  Her parents admitted her to fix her addiction to him. To cure her heartbreak of him going to prison. To stop her from going to him.

  He needed to move, but his body refused to cooperate. He needed to finish reading. He needed to learn if she continued loving him.

  January 15th

  ___________

  It's official. I'm eighteen years old. An adult by the world's standards. My parents never visited or called to tell me happy birthday, but I'm not surprised. After I had turned thirteen, they stopped celebrating my birth. Anyway, it's been six weeks since they've visited me. It's better when they leave me alone. In group therapy, they sang Happy Birthday to me, and the therapist gave everyone a cupcake. She put a candle on mine, and I wished to get out of the clinic for good and hoped the building would catch on fire, so I let the flame burn down to the frosting, ruining my cupcake. Later, when I met with Dr. Virann, I told her I wanted to leave, and she couldn't stop me because I'm eighteen. She showed me a piece of paper with my signature on it admitting myself to the clinic. I don't remember signing it, but the medication they had me on when I first came here made me forget lots of things. My only option is to show them I no longer love Caiden and believe there is no future for us. I have to have a plan for my life that makes me independent. I also have to show everyone that I will not harm myself if I'm released. I don't know why they think I will. I've never tried to hurt myself. I have a plan and would never ruin my chances with Caiden. I'll keep lying. I'll keep chanting his name in my head as they try to brainwash me. I will get to the prison and see him. He must be so worried about me. Just like I'm worried about him. He's all alone. I wish we were together in our cabin.

  "Jesus Christ," he whispered, flinging the journal across the room and getting off the bed. All those months worried that she'd forget him with all that they were doing to her, forget her promise, forget the life they wanted, and she'd been suffering alone through the trauma. At least in prison, he was left alone with his thoughts. Nobody was trying to convince him to stop loving Jolene. His love kept him going through the depression, the anger, the acceptance of his sentence.

  Jolene had battled her parents, doctors, being locked up in an institution. He walked out of the bedroom, thrusting his hands in his hair. She belonged to him, and he'd failed to protect her. So far, she'd spent six months in an institution, and he hadn't even finished the journal.

  Her parents had punished her for loving him. They'd taken a heartbroken little girl—that's what she was at seventeen years old, and tried to curb her from letting her feelings out. She'd tried to hitchhike to visit the jail before he was transported to the state prison. She acted out, ruining her room in a fit of rage. She tried running away. The school couldn't keep her in class. Her parents couldn't keep her at home. All she'd wanted to do was see him, support him, love him.

  In the end, they'd broken her until she refused to eat, dress, leave her room. Thinking someone else could mend her heart, they tried medicine and therapy to fix her. Until, she found the strength to not only move forward, but cut ties with everyone in her life, even the comfort of the only town she'd lived in. And, she'd done it alone.

  He swung out and punched the wall, his fist broke through the sheetrock. His strength stopped with an explosive heat in his knuckles. He yanked his arm out of the wall, spouting blood from his hand.

  "God damn," he muttered, going to the kitchen and turning on the faucet.

  Holding his hand under the streaming cold water, he stretched and opened the junk drawer, removing the package of Band-Aids. He'd punched a nail, slicing the skin between his knuckles. He pulled his hand out from under the faucet and wrapped the dishtowel around his knuckles, found two Band-Aids, and carried them into the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he staunched the flow of blood and quickly pulled the edges of his skin together and covered the wound.

  He flexed his hand. The bandage held.

  Sobered to the situation after learning about Jolene's life after he was arrested, he fetched the journal off the floor. Unable to sit still, he read as he paced at the foot of the bed. Her struggles, confusion, and fears laid out on the pages for him. He took each day she remembered him on the pages, amazed at her strength and disgusted at the behavior therapy classes she attended that had broken her.

  Four more pages remained, and the tone of her entries changed. He sat on the bed. His attention completely on what she'd gone through.

  June 28th

  ___________

  In the common area, there are magazines and books. Mostly shopping catalogs the nurses bring in as if mental patients have a chance to buy what their heart desires. On the back of the covers, a square is cut out of them where the name and address of the subscriber were removed. There are several catalogs for jewelry. I like them best, so on the papers I filled out for the doctor, I told her one of my hobbies, if I'm allowed to leave, will be to learn how to make jewelry. She talked about college, but I've already missed a year and no longer have any desire to be around others. I do better alone with nobody judging me or telling me I'm reacting wrong.

  June 29th

  ___________

  My mother called and informed me that she and dad would give me the money I would've used for college this year, and I could pay for an apartment, but I have to live somewhere else besides Idaho. She claims it's for my own sake and believes I will become stronger if I have to learn to rely on myself. I took her offer, and I think I'd like to go live in Colorado. That's far enough away from Idaho to please them.

  June 30th

  ___________

  Today was my last day in group therapy. Since I've been here, only one person has left the clinic in over a year. Her name was Rebecca. She committed suicide in her room. In some ways, I think a lot of myself has also died, even though I'm alive. Not in the literal sense, but who I was compared to who I am now. I'm not sure I like the new me. Caiden wouldn't like me now either, and maybe that's why I stood up in group and told everyone my plans to leave tomorrow, live on my own, and learn how to make jewelry. It was the first time since coming here that what I said didn't sound or feel like a lie.

  July 1st

  ___________

  Dr. Virann had me come to her office this morning before I leave. She instructed me that I must use the fantasy or reality concept every day when I'm gone to help me handle anything that comes my way. If I focus on reality, I'll con
tinue to succeed. I don't think I'm going to keep a journal any longer because in some ways writing my thoughts lean toward fantasy.

  I'm going to live on my own. That's reality.

  I'm going to find a way to earn money. That's reality.

  I'm going to succeed. That's reality.

  Caiden closed the journal and set it beside him on the bed. His eyes burned. He dropped his chin to his chest. Jolene had fought a war for him. Every day, she'd struggled to keep focusing on their love. In the end, she'd lost.

  CHAPTER 22

  You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. — Eleanor Roosevelt

  Pounding on the door woke Jolene. She sat up in bed. Not that she was sleeping. She was thick in her head, going over everything that Caiden had said last night. Drifting from the past to the present.

  "Jolene." More banging came from the front of the house.

  Wide awake recognizing Caiden yelling her name, she rolled off the bed and ran through the house. Not even turning on the outside floodlight, she unhooked the chain, the deadbolt, and threw open the door.

  She barely took in his face before his arms wrapped around her and she was smothered against his chest.

  The door banged shut.

  Caiden cupped the back of her head. Her breath squeezed out of her, she couldn't move. She wanted to hug him back, and yet her arms were trapped between her chest and his hard body.

  He wasn't really here. He couldn't be. She'd handed him everything he needed to know about how she'd betrayed him. How she had been mentally unprepared for a mature, adult relationship. That she had a responsibility toward herself to become an independent adult before she was mature enough to share a life with someone else.