The Higher You Fly Read online

  "People leave, they die, they run." The coldness of his statement matched his gaze.

  "That's not fair."

  "Life has never been fair." He gazed at the propane tank. "She passed away in the apartment above the bar when I was in prison. They said it was a stroke."

  She closed her eyes an extra beat, absorbing his loss. "They wouldn't let you out to attend her funeral?"

  "No." He cleared his throat. "I don't even know what they did with her after she died. I didn't have any rights in prison because I was a killer."

  She hugged the clipboard to her chest. Her desire to console him or say the right reply stronger than she'd expected after all the years they spent apart.

  "The tank should be full in a few minutes," said Caiden.

  "But, you're doing good now, right?" All the old questions that had plagued her came back to her. She needed to know he was okay.

  Caiden's gaze narrowed. "You're going to ask that now?"

  She opened her mouth, and he stepped away from her. Pursing her lips, she understood his bitterness. She'd let him down, but they'd both moved on with their life.

  Caiden unhooked the nozzle and wound it back on the truck. She filled out the rest of the paperwork, deciding it was quicker if she was billed. With him here, she couldn't process the little information he'd handed over to her. She only had more questions that were not her place to ask.

  She walked over and handed him the clipboard. "All done."

  "Let me get you a receipt with the amount of propane the tank took and how much you'll be billed." Caiden stepped up into the cab and sat in the driver's seat.

  Jolene turned around and closed her eyes. If the truck ran her over, she couldn't feel any worse. Around Caiden, twenty years was only a heartbeat long. The familiar need to touch him, comfort him, spill her guts and get past the awkwardness between them was too much to fight.

  Someway, they'd need to deal with each other living in Federal, unless she bought an electric furnace and bought her gas in the next town over. She tilted her head back and gazed up at the sky. Her feelings were irrational. How could she want him after all these years?

  "Jolene?"

  She jumped and turned around. "Yes?"

  "Here's your receipt." He handed her a piece of paper.

  "Thanks." She folded the slip without looking at it and put it in her pocket. "It'll be nice to turn the heat on tonight."

  "Make sure you turn on the pilot light first." His deep voice tickled her stomach.

  She cupped the base of her neck, found her necklace, and pressed the chain against her skin. "The what?"

  "Pilot light."

  "I..." She glanced away, unfamiliar with what he was talking about or where the pilot light would be in her house. "Would I call an electrician to do that?"

  "I'll light it for you." He walked in the opposite direction.

  She hurried to follow him. The next time she needed to light a pilot, she'd know how to do it.

  Caiden walked into the cabin and straight to the spare bedroom, opening up the closet. She hovered behind him.

  "How did you know where the furnace was located?" she asked.

  He grunted, taking off the front panel. She leaned forward and watched him flick a lighter and push a red button. A tiny flame whooshed to life.

  "Wait. How is that safe? Propane is a gas." She stepped back.

  He replaced the panel, closed the bi-folding doors to the closet, and turned around. "It's safe. If the pilot light goes out and you smell rotten eggs, go outside and call me. I'll come back and light it. Besides that, you're good to go."

  "I'm suddenly rethinking not using the fireplace in the living room." She walked with him through the house. "Wood would be cheap. I'm surrounded by trees. I'd only need to learn how to use a chainsaw and an ax."

  He never stopped until he reached the front door and fingered the chain lock. Her chest constricted. She'd bought the lock because he'd strolled into her house uninvited. It wasn't that she was scared of him. Even after all the years he'd spent in prison, he was still Caiden. The extra protection was for her benefit because of her inability to think around him. For her own mental health, she needed to know he was never coming back to her.

  Caiden walked out, shutting the door, leaving her in the house. She moved over to the window. The cabin felt lonely.

  She felt lonely.

  He drove away, and she stepped away from the window, losing her desire to go into the workroom and melt down the silver for the rings. She pulled out the receipt and frowned.

  $3,630.44

  He'd overcharged her, by a lot. She changed her clothes, again, grabbed her purse, and her grocery list. She'd grab the few items she needed at the store, hit the post office, and stop at the gas station and have someone there fix her bill to the correct amount.

  CHAPTER 6

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

  The last vehicle left the gas pumps. Jolene tossed her keys in her purse and got out of the car. She already had a check signed. All she had to do was fill in the correct amount. She'd be in and out of the gas station before Caiden even noticed her.

  She hurried through the front door and walked to the counter. "Excuse me, can I talk to someone about my bill? I had propane delivered this morning, and I think the amount is wrong."

  A different woman than the other day nodded. "Sure, let me call the boss."

  "Thank you," said Jolene.

  The boss. She half turned and exhaled in relief that she wouldn't be directed to Caiden.

  "He'll be here in a minute," said the cashier.

  Jolene smiled and put her purse over her shoulder. Trying to be discreet, she looked around for Caiden and found herself disappointed when he wasn't anywhere in sight. She shouldn't care. He obviously wanted nothing to do with her and she had promised him she'd stay away from him.

  "Jolene?"

  Caiden's voice jolted her out of thinking about him. She turned around. "Hey...hi. I'm just here to see the boss."

  "Follow me." He walked to the back of the building, glancing over his shoulder at her to make sure she followed.

  Every time he looked, pleasure settled low in her stomach. She walked through the door he held open for her and stopped.

  He lifted his chin. "Go up the stairs. The office is at the top."

  "Thanks." She held on to the handrail and climbed the steps, highly aware of Caiden behind her, she caught her toe on the top step.

  Strong hands grabbed her hips, steadying her. She sucked in her breath. The warmth from Caiden's hands touched her skin, sending a shiver of awareness through her.

  He let her go. She walked forward into the empty room and turned around. "Should I wait here?"

  Caiden stepped around her and sat down behind the desk. "Sit."

  She sat.

  Caiden plunked a ledger down on the desk. In her confusion on what he was doing sitting in the boss's chair, a flicker of uneasiness came over her. She studied the room. There were oil cans lined up in the windowsill, a clock with diesel written on the face, several file cabinets, discarded flannels in a chair, and a pair of practice boxing gloves were hung from a nail above a red and white cooler.

  She snapped her gaze to Caiden and found him watching her. "You're the boss?"

  "Does it surprise you?"

  "Yes." She blew out her cheeks. "No, I don't mean it that way. I had assumed you worked downstairs and were the deliveryman. You did deliver my propane."

  "The employee who usually does deliveries got a call this morning that his daughter was sick at daycare and had to leave, so I came out instead." He tapped a pen against the desk. "Why don't you say what you're thinking."

  "I'm not —"

  "You're wondering how a killer with a felony record, who spent ten years in prison, could afford to own a gas station." His pen stopped. "I earned money by getting back in the ring after I was released."

  Her heart raced, and she leaned forward a
nd grabbed the edge of the desk. If he had told her he'd robbed a bank, she wouldn't have reacted in the same way.

  "Ten years? But, you were sentenced for—"

  "I got out five years early for good behavior," he said.

  "I-I didn't know that." She pried her tongue off the roof of her mouth. "I can't believe you went back to boxing. You have so much to lose now."

  "I had more to lose before I was arrested." He sat back in his chair, the ledger and pen forgotten.

  The intensity of his gaze paralyzed her. Her stomach rolled. He couldn't say something like that and not explain himself. Did he blame her for him going to prison? Was he talking about his mom dying?

  She wanted to believe he meant losing her. God, she wished he meant her. But, that was crazy. He'd been twenty-two years old. She was only seventeen. What was it the therapist always told her?

  Nothing in life was consistent. People change. Lives change.

  He was so angry at her. She was angry at herself.

  "Caiden..." she whispered, swallowing the lump of emotions coming faster and faster the more time she spent with him.

  "You're here about your bill. The amount is correct." He stood and looked out the window with his back to her. "The extra three thousand dollars is for the money you were saving for me from my wins inside the ring that I was going to use for our future. You took everything for yourself and left me nothing. You owe me."

  Her chin fell to her chest, and she closed her eyes. The night the police interrupted them at the apartment above the bar. Everything was so vivid in her mind. The sirens. The fear on Caiden's face. The handcuffs.

  It wasn't until the police hauled Caiden away and two policemen remained behind and questioned her that it hit her that the man who Caiden knocked out had died. That Caiden would go to prison and leave her. She'd done everything he asked her to do.

  She'd gone into his bedroom and took the money he was saving and hid it under the waist of her skirt in one of his T-shirts. Then, she'd fallen apart, and her parents had shown up to take her home.

  Unable to let herself go back to what happened next, she jumped out of her chair and hurried down the stairs. Outside the front of the gas station, she looked back expecting Caiden to come after her to wound her heart more and found herself alone. She opened her car door, hid inside, and drove away.

  Two blocks later, she pulled over at the post office. Her whole body trembled. If Caiden wanted to believe she owed him the money he'd won, she'd pay. Taking out her checkbook, she filled the pre-signed check out for the total amount.

  $3,630.44

  Before she changed her mind, she marched into the building, bought a stamped envelope and addressed the front to Federal Gas & Propane Company. The ink blurred, and she shook her head, clearing her vision. Caiden wasn't there after his arrest to see what had happened. He'd never believe her if she tried to explain what she'd gone through.

  She dropped the envelope in the slot for in-town delivery and then pushed out the doors, colliding with a solid chest. Her purse flew out of her hand, and she gasped.

  "Sorry. So, sorry." She gazed up, recognition hitting her. "Kurt?"

  "No harm." Kurt Ramchett stepped out of the path of the door. "It's good to see you, Jolene."

  She ran her hand down the front of her shirt, hoping she appeared more stable than she was feeling on the inside. "It's Jo now."

  "Okay." Kurt picked up her purse and handed it to her.

  "Thanks." She gazed at his vest. "Still president of Bantorus Motorcycle Club, I see."

  "Tell the day I die or get voted out." Kurt patted his jean vest.

  "Right." She forced a smile, always wondering why Kurt hadn't protected Caiden the night of the fight. "I need to go."

  Kurt let her pass. She got in the car and drove away. Even before she decided to move back to Federal, she'd been aware there would be times she'd run into people who remembered her. She planted her elbow on the window of her car and cradled her forehead with her hand. She never imagined in her wildest dreams that her past would reach out and choke her at every possible turn.

  The music coming from the speakers in the car grated on her every nerve. She turned off the noise. Why hadn't anyone told her Caiden got out ten years ago? Her parents had still lived in Federal. They had to have known. It wasn't as if news as big as a felon moving back to town wouldn't hit the store, the deli, the coffee shop —the places her mom visited almost daily when she'd lived in Federal.

  She'd even read the online newspaper religiously looking for his name. While he'd had his crime printed, his release had went unnoticed by the press. She had no idea he'd been free for ten years. He hadn't called her or looked for her.

  CHAPTER 7

  Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul – and sings the tunes without words – and never stops at all. — Emily Dickenson

  The last remaining apples lay on the ground underneath the trees. Jolene raked the rotting fruit into a pile, picked up the shovel, and loaded them in the wheelbarrow—both new items she'd purchased. Raking every afternoon for the last two weeks—give or take a day off, she'd created a mound at the edge of her yard that was hip high and four feet wide.

  She wiped her forearm across her forehead, then after rocking the wheelbarrow back and forth a few times to gain momentum, pushed the load across the uneven ground. Satisfaction came from unloading the unusable fruit, and she wished getting rid of her problems was as easy as getting the apples out of her yard.

  At least the black bear that kept returning every morning for breakfast stayed away from the cabin now that she'd removed the temptation.

  Bees buzzed around her. She ignored them, knowing if she left them alone she wouldn't get stung. Pushing the wheelbarrow back to the shed that had more holes than solid boards, she kept looking over her shoulder. Her first time living in the wild came with more warnings than she'd been prepared for. She carried a can of bear spray in her back pocket. While bears were cute, it was scary to face one by herself. The wind at night caused limbs from the trees to break off and hit her roof. Without anyone to stand by her when she checked around for the noise, she found herself nervous and jumping at her own shadow. The lack of conversation around her, even knowing she wouldn't talk because she'd never had the ease of confiding in friends.

  The only time she willingly shared her problems or her daily elations was when she was with Caiden. Knowing he was in Federal only made her more aware of how much she had to say and realizing he wasn't hers to go see.

  She walked back to the apple trees and picked up the rake and shovel, and then put them in the shed, too. The satisfaction of physical work dampened by the doubts that'd bothered her since finding out Caiden held losing his money against her for all these years. Sometime between midnight and two o'clock in the morning, she realized why he was upset.

  He believed she used his money to buy the cabin.

  The cabin they'd spent hours in, dreaming about becoming a family, away from everyone who judged them. Caiden had used the abandoned cabin twenty years ago to escape poverty. She'd used the cabin to escape her parents' house where certain ideals were held to impossible levels and where the pursuit of money came first and love came in last.

  While she'd moved on, he was right in assuming she still held their time together as the best times of her life. In lots of ways, she hadn't changed. She continued to live in her head and bought the cabin because she was looking for happiness. A happiness she hadn't found in her work, her family, in other men —she'd tried, too many times. Deep down, she believed the cabin and her new jewelry line would bring her the contentment that alluded her.

  Maybe she was fooling herself. Even with the cabin, she was still alone. At thirty-seven years old, she couldn't see her relationship status changing.

  Caiden, too, had moved on. Forced to live a different life than he'd planned, even with being a business owner, he'd continually wake up each morning knowing others viewed him negatively. He was a felon
. A killer. Those were titles that were worse than low-income and desperation.

  But, to her, he was her Caiden. Even if he hated her now.

  She only wished...

  No, she wouldn't go there. She couldn't.

  She sat down on the porch steps and gazed out at the yard. She'd power through and be happy. To be miserable and doubt herself never solved anything. Soon the season would change, and the world would fall in love with the Quintessential Line.

  Her phone buzzed. She grabbed her cell out of her pocket and read the screen. Bracing herself, she answered. "Hello, Mom."

  "Jolene, I sent an invitation and an airline ticket to you over two weeks ago for your father's birthday party on the twenty-eighth and haven't heard from you. As you know, I put a lot of work into organizing this yearly event, and it's only ten days away. Why haven't you RSVP'd with the catering company I used?"

  "I haven't received the invite," she said, rubbing the dust off her jeans.

  "For heaven's sake. How can that happen? I specifically mailed yours myself, because I included the plane ticket like I do every year. The least you can do is visit your father once a year."

  "I haven't received it because I haven't been to the post office in the last two weeks. I've been busy." She stood and walked into the house.

  "That's irresponsible, Jolene," said her mother.

  Of course, it was. Every decision she'd made was irresponsible because she hadn't pre-approved it with her parents beforehand. It wasn't a matter of cutting the apron springs. Her parents thought they could run everyone's life. From former business associates to the pool guy who came to their house twice a week.

  She'd disappointed her parents long before she'd fallen in love with Caiden. Her heartbreak after he was arrested was just the boiling point. Even keeping their face to face contact to once a year, she heard all the time how she'd broken their hearts when she decided to 'play with rocks' instead of getting a decent job or marrying someone from a higher income bracket to take care of her.