The Higher You Fly Read online

  Yet, he was here. His warm, rough hand held her head the way he always had that made her feel like he'd take care of her. His heart thrummed against her ear, and she closed her eyes, recognizing the comforting rhythm that resided in the back of her memories.

  She inhaled his scent. "You're really here?"

  "I’m here."

  She leaned back, and it took more strength to push against his hold than she had at the moment. There were things he needed to know. "You need to read—"

  "Did." He guided her over to the couch and picked her up, putting her on his lap. "Right now, I need to hold you, so I don't go kill your parents."

  She laid her head on his shoulder. "They don't live in Federal anymore."

  "I know that." He caressed her hair, pulling it behind her shoulders. "I went to their house ten years ago, looking for you."

  "No." She sat up. "Why?"

  "Because I fulfilled my promise that when I got out of prison, we'd be together." He tilted her head. "They refused to tell me where you were living and threatened to call the police if I didn't leave. I couldn't go back to prison, so I left. I went to Kurt and had him do some looking, and he got me an address for you in Colorado."

  She shook her head. "You never came to me."

  "When I was released from prison early for good behavior, I carried around the stipulation that I couldn't leave the state until my original fifteen-year sentence was over. When another five years went by, I looked for you, and it was as if Jolene Shayne dropped out of sight. I chanced going back to your parents' house, and found another family living there." He opened up his coat and pulled her legs under the material. "After that, things got dark for me. You wouldn't have wanted to be around me. I tried everything to find you, Jolene. Until, I fell hard."

  "Like you acted when I moved here?" whispered Jolene.

  "Worse. It's when I realized that the life I wanted was never going to materialize." His body tensed and his hand continued to rub her arm in the same spot as if unaware of what he was doing. "Jolene?"

  She tilted her head to look up at him without leaving his shoulder. He was here, talking to her, holding her. She had no idea what time it was, only that it was dark out and a big part of her felt like she was dreaming, making her scared to wake up.

  "This is a lot to take in." She looked at her hand planted on his chest.

  "What happened after I got arrested that would make your parents put you in an institution?" His hand stopped moving on her arm.

  She shook her head.

  "Jolene?"

  She pushed off his lap before he could stop her. "What time is it?"

  "Five o'clock in the morning." He leaned forward and planted his elbows on his knees.

  He hadn't even taken off his jacket. Away from Caiden's warmth, she shivered. She pressed her hand against her stomach. After getting sick to her stomach last night, she'd gone straight to bed after changing her clothes and putting on an oversized sweatshirt.

  "I need to get dressed." She walked away from him without answering his question.

  She wasn't proud of her behavior after he left. At the time, she hadn't even been aware of the downward spiral that'd triggered her breakdown. Only her obsessive need to be with Caiden mattered.

  Finding a pair of jeans in her closet, she took a long sleeve shirt and a hoodie off the hangers. She changed her panties, put on a bra, knee-high socks, even putting on her Mukluks because she couldn't get warm.

  Feeling more secure now that every inch of her body was covered, she grabbed a hairband off the dresser and wound her hair up into a messy bun. She looked down at her hands. They trembled. How could she go her whole life wanting one man and when he turns up, willing to talk, she failed to have the strength to face him?

  She shook her hands. It would be easy to get swept away into a fantasy and put her trust in Caiden to take care of her. But, she no longer needed a protector and a provider.

  She couldn't forget the reality. She was almost thirty-eight years old. Her whole adult life, she'd lived on her own, building her company, and was on the verge of debuting the Quintessential Line. On paper, she'd created a life for herself. In society's eyes, she existed.

  Returning to the living room, she found Caiden sitting in the same spot on the couch. He stared at the unlit fireplace. She stepped into the kitchen and filled the coffee pot, knowing he always wanted a cup first thing in the morning and he hadn't slept last night, and that was her fault. She'd given him the journal.

  Knowing she would be unable to keep anything down, she went without her warmed, sweetened milk. When the single cup of coffee was done, she carried the drink into the living room. She sat down on the couch before Caiden noticed she'd returned to his side. The lamp on the end table lit up the sadness etched in his gaze, making his brow more pronounced.

  "I made you a cup of coffee." She held out the steaming mug.

  She scooted back, leaning against the couch, giving him time while he took his first sip. Then, his second. And, his third.

  Knowing she had to face the change that came with giving him the journal, she shifted in her seat and faced him. "I need to start working. I've got a deadline, and once I start, it's not easy to stop. Some of the steps in the process take all my concentration, and I don't know if it'll take me an hour or twelve to stop where I can step away."

  He drank longer. "Okay."

  Okay? She inhaled deeply raising her brows. "What time do you have to go into the gas station?"

  "I don't think I will." He stood and walked into the kitchen, leaving his cup in the sink. Then returned to her. "I'm just going to go home."

  "Oh. Okay." She stood and hid her hands in the pouch of her sweatshirt.

  He slipped his hand underneath her hair. His warm fingers cupped her neck. Her cheeks warmed, and a wave of desire made her eyelids heavy. She could easily work today with him beside her, touching her, if she could shut off her mind. But, she needed to ground herself to the here and now, not the past.

  "I'll come back at noon." His gaze softened.

  "Can you wait?" She moistened her dry lips. "I'm having a hard time understanding what is going on between us. I gave you the journal because I wanted you to know how my life changed after you went to prison. I don't know what you're thinking, and I know that it isn't helping that we had sex. I need to separate what is happening. With you here, I can't even think or decide..."

  "Sh." He lowered his voice. "You're getting worried over something that is easy to talk about. All you need to know is I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. We'll talk and decide what happens as you get comfortable with me again."

  She blinked, following his conversation but knowing that assumptions were made on his part.

  "I need to start working," she whispered.

  He pulled her closer, kissed her lips gently, and said, "Don't cook tonight. I'll bring something out. We'll talk."

  "Okay."

  He let go of her and walked out of the cabin. She stood until she heard his truck leave and then she sat on the couch. It was crazy for Caiden to think he could step back into her life and they could take off from where everything ended. It was even more crazy for her to hope that's what he wanted.

  CHAPTER 23

  Without a struggle, there can be no progress. — Frederick Douglass

  Caiden made it as far as the Bantorus clubhouse after leaving Jolene's cabin before pulling his truck over.

  After seeking permission from Remmy, the vice president of Bantorus MC, to go in the basement to beat the bags, he walked downstairs and stripped off his coat and shirt. Skipping the gloves, he warmed up on the padded wall. Excess adrenaline fueled him forward, trying to tap down the need to go back to Jolene and demand more answers to all the questions he had since reading her journal.

  He feared leaving her alone after finding out what she'd survived, knowing he was the cause of her being institutionalized.

  He stepped over to the speedball, bouncing on his toes.

 
Left.

  Right.

  Left.

  Right.

  Over and over, he punched the weighted bag until the fast-paced taps became music to his ears. Lean, sway, lean, sway, his body fell into the rhythm needed to keep up the endurance.

  Jolene looked like a bird, damaged by the winds. Fragile.

  How she'd ever survived the conditioning, the modifications to her thinking, the medicated therapy, the neglect from her parents, only to buy the cabin after twenty years because she wanted to have their dream of living together, having a family, amazed him.

  The logistics of how she'd fought and clawed her way up brought him to his knees. He dropped his hands to the floor and hung his head as the speedball slowed to a stop.

  Frustrated over not being able to do more for her, to protect her, to make up for what she'd lived through, he pushed to his feet and moved to the body bag. Sweat formed on his upper body. He punched high with his right hand, low with his left. Pushing the swaying bag away from him each time it came close.

  Bouncing on his feet, he began a standard routine. Right, left, lower quadrant, upper chest, knee. Three sets of fifty reps and he changed sides. He missed getting in the ring. Nothing compared to letting off steam with an unpredictable opponent, exchanging blows.

  Then, he remembered Chapman.

  He threw one more punch and dropped his hands to his sides, heaving for breath. He had no idea how he was supposed to handle the situation between him and Jolene.

  The last thing she needed to deal with was his heavy handed need to make things right. He'd put her through hell since she'd arrived and guilt pained him. If he had known what she'd gone through, he'd like to believe he would've treated her better.

  He backhanded the body bag, frustrated over a situation he controlled. He had a chance, and he'd failed to treat her right. Regardless of what she'd gone through, she never deserved his anger. He was an asshole. Always had been and always will be, but he had never been an asshole toward her. Until she came back to Federal.

  "Want to talk about why you stained my equipment?" asked Kurt.

  Caiden turned his head, unaware until Kurt spoke that he'd had an audience. Not knowing what Kurt talked about, he looked at the body bag and exhaled. There were blood smears all over the leather.

  "Shit." Caiden grabbed his shirt, wrapped it around his hand where the skin he'd split open last night punching his hand through the wall had reopened.

  "Spray bottle is in the cabinet. Rags in the bin." Kurt walked over and put his foot on the platform of the boxing ring.

  Caiden grabbed the bottle of bleach water and a rag. To keep from getting more blood in the area, he worked one handed. Eventually, his knuckles started to sting. He hadn't felt the injury while he was working out.

  "Want to tell me what set you off?" asked Kurt.

  Caiden moved over to the speedball and sprayed. "Jolene."

  "Figured." Kurt crossed his arms. "Is she okay? Or, at least in better shape than you?"

  He shook his head. "I found out why she left all those years ago."

  It wasn't his place to talk about Jolene. Except, he was responsible for her ending up in an institution and going through therapy.

  "I take it, you're not happy with what you found out." Kurt scratched his jaw with the back of his fingers. "You're going to have to deal with the facts in a different way and let your hand heal."

  His hand was the least of his problems. How was he supposed to heal Jolene's heart when he was the one who caused the damage? Could she ever get past what she'd gone through loving him? Was it even fair of him to ask her to try? Now that he knew how hard she fought for him, he could do no less.

  Caiden put the bleach away and tossed the rag in the garbage. "Do you think I lost control over my punches the night I killed Chapman?"

  Kurt raised his brows. "You've never asked me that question before."

  "I didn't think I wanted the answer before, but..." Caiden unwound the shirt from his hand. "Lately, I feel myself slipping. I came in here, but then I don't remember swinging."

  Kurt put his boot on the floor. "You've got a lot on your mind. It's normal to do what you love automatically to clear your head."

  "It's more than that." He bent his fingers, and the skin popped open, flowing with blood. "Control has never come easy for me. That night, I can't remember. It was just like today. I get focused and time disappears."

  Kurt grunted and took out his cell. He looked down at the screen, tapped his fingers on the phone, and when he finished, he lifted his gaze to Caiden. "I got ahold of Shari. She's going to come down and stitch you up."

  "Appreciate it." Caiden rewrapped his hand.

  Shari was married to Kurt's brother, Lee. A soft touch, she'd stitched him up before when he'd busted a lip or eyebrow back in his competitive days.

  Aware of Kurt not answering his question, he grabbed his coat. "I'll wait upstairs for her."

  He got to the door, and Kurt said, "Caiden?"

  "Yeah?" He turned around.

  "You never lost control." Kurt held his gaze. "I taught you everything you know. It was an accident. Life will always throw you a battle. It's up to you on how you fight."

  He dipped his chin and left the basement. His pulse raced over the answer. There was always doubt in everything he did. An underdog, he fought for what he'd made of his life. He had setbacks that took years of his life and branded him a murderer. But, he'd persevered.

  Or, he thought he had until Jolene came back. Now, he wasn't sure.

  He tossed his jacket on the table in the main room and sat down in a chair. Alone in the room, he closed his eyes. Running on no sleep, the letdown of adrenaline after the workout kicked his ass.

  There were things he needed to do. Check in at the station. Call in the gas orders, which he preferred to handle himself because none of his employees were trained to do more than tally the register every night and make sure the shelves were stocked, and supplies ordered. He needed to make sure his faucet at home was still dripping so his pipes wouldn't freeze. Most important, he needed to check on Jolene.

  "I hate to wake you, but I also don't want you losing any more blood," said a soft voice.

  Caiden blinked awake. "I'm not that close to death yet."

  "Let's see what kind of damage you've done." Shari smiled and sat down in the chair in front of him. "I hope you know, you're getting too old to get into scuffles."

  "The wall and bags put up a good fight, though," he said.

  "I can see that." Shari laughed softly. "As long as it was a fair match, who am I to tell you to stop hurting yourself? Right?"

  "Something like that." He unwound the shirt and placed his hand on the table. While Shari inspected the wound, Caiden lifted his chin to Lee, who stood on the other side of the room.

  "You've got an escort," said Caiden.

  Shari glanced over at her husband, back to Caiden, and grinned. "He looks sexy over there pretending to ignore what I'm doing, doesn't he?"

  Caiden chuckled. "He knows he's got a good woman. He only wants to make sure you stay safe."

  "Well, I do my best to make sure he doesn't have to work too hard." Shari held up an Alki-wipe. "Ready?"

  Braced for the sting, he inhaled through his nose and held still. Shari made quick work of cleaning the area. He was prepared when she pierced his skin and set about stitching him up.

  "Four big stitches. Not bad." Shari made a knot and cut the thread. "You know the routine. Keep it dry. Remove the stitches in five days. Whiskey will help if it aches."

  "It's fine." He bent his fingers, testing the tightness. "Another scar on a beat-up body isn't going to matter much."

  She laughed. "I've always believed that true beauty was in the imperfections."

  "That's why she married me." Lee approached his wife and kissed the back of her neck. "But then, I made sure to put my ring on her before she started wearing glasses."

  "Careful, honey." Shari's face lit up with Lee's atten
tion. "You don't want on my bad side. It's my night to cook for everyone."

  Caiden smiled at the two of them and shrugged on his coat, zipping it up because he couldn't wear his shirt. "Thanks again."

  "You're welcome." Shari put the used supplies in a garbage sack and closed the First Aid kit. "Can I ask how you sliced your hand open?"

  "A wall jumped out at me." He shrugged and walked across the room.

  "From the looks of the wound. You might want to get a tetanus shot," said Shari to his back.

  "I'll be fine." He lifted his hand in a wave and pushed through the door.

  He needed to get home, take care of business, and sleep for a couple of hours before he went to Jolene's tonight. He climbed in the truck, checked his phone for any emergencies at the station and started the truck. Snow covered his windshield, and he turned on the wipers and cranked the heater to high.

  While he waited to warm up, he scrolled through his phone and found Jolene's phone number. He connected the call and tapped the speaker button. He'd leave a message. That way she'd have his phone number.

  "Hello?" said Jolene.

  "Hey, I didn't think you'd pick up." He stared down at his injured hand.

  She paused. "Caiden?"

  "Yeah."

  "How did you get my number?"

  He spread his fingers out on his thigh. "You filled out the new account form for the propane."

  "Oh," she said quietly.

  "Listen." He cleared his throat. "I'll be over around five. It's starting to snow again. Do you need anything from town? I can save you a trip."

  "No, I'm good."

  "Okay."

  "Caiden?" Her voice softened. "I think maybe you shouldn't come over. Not tonight."

  "Is everything alright?"

  "I just...I could use the time to work, and I need some time to think about what is going on." Her gulp could be heard over the speaker. "With us."

  He shook his head. "I'd really like to see you tonight."

  "I know."

  "Do me a favor. Call me at seven." He clicked the phone off speaker and put it to his ear.