I’d been sacking away money since I started getting paid, so I wasn’t hurting for cash, but there was no way I’d be moving from the clubhouse anytime soon if I was paying for an apartment for Callie. I wasn’t making that much money.

Taking care of Callie would set me back in a big way, but I couldn’t see any other option. She needed me. She needed to be out of San Diego, and I saw the guilt on her face when her brother was trying to bluff his way through giving up that fancy-ass school he went to. He didn’t want to give it up but he was willing to. I respected the fuck out of him for that. But if he gave it up, that would be one more thing she felt responsible for, and the guilt was already so heavy on her shoulders…

Fuck it. I’d handle it. She was only a couple years away from being eighteen, and then she could take care of her own shit. I was hoping by then she wouldn’t want to; that she’d be so wrapped up in me that she wouldn’t want to be living eight hours away. At least that was what I was counting on.

I felt like a selfish asshole when they’d looked at me like I was crazy—like I was so fucking selfless because I wanted to pay her way.

Didn’t they see that I wanted her to owe me? I wanted her fucking dependent on me, and I’d do anything to make that happen. I couldn’t figure out what the fuck was wrong with me—I just knew that the minute she didn’t look at me like I was saving her, it would gut me.

I didn’t know how fucked up it would make our relationship. It would be years before I saw how resentment builds from one person being totally dependent on the other and how the beginning of our relationship started a cycle of guilt and blame that would fester and flame out of control.

Chapter 21

Callie

Once the decision had been made, things happened fast.

The next morning, Poet got on the phone with someone from the Sacramento Chapter and set things in motion up there.

Gram called the funeral home where my parents would be sent and tried to move up their service.

Cody slept in.

Asa left for an hour and came back with an empty moving truck.

And while everyone moved around me in preparation, I sat quietly and tried not to cry.

I missed my mom and dad with a depth so overwhelming that I thought if I started crying again I’d never stop. I’d never understood the word sorrow until then. The thought of never seeing my parents again was almost too much for me to handle. Throughout the past few days, I’d known that they were gone. I’d cried and panicked and worried, but I don’t think it had sunk in. It was finally sinking in, and all I felt was… sorrow.

It was such a small word for such a huge emotion.

My parents would never see me graduate from high school or college. My dad would never walk me down the aisle at my wedding. I’d never again sit with my head on my mom’s shoulder after a bad day, or hug her tight while she was cooking dinner. I’d never see her eyes light up with love for me again. And I’d never get to make peace with my dad after the awful fight we’d had.

I’d lost almost everything in one single night and I didn’t understand it. It was so hard to comprehend the magnitude of changes in my life that I’d gone into shock, and as I sat on my grandmother’s couch, I was finally coming out of it.

Without the need to plan or worry, I was finally able to grieve.

I did it silently and without fanfare. I let myself break apart, feeling the heaviness in my chest and the trembling in my fingers, but not allowing anyone to see it.

It’s a common phenomenon to see a child get hurt while away from their parents and then walk stoically to them to be patched up. It’s almost as if they know instinctively that no one will hear them, so they don’t cry right away. Yet, the minute they see their parent, they burst out in sobs, as if the crying wasn’t necessary until they had someone to hear it.

I was in pain, but I no longer had a parent to hear my cries.

So I stayed silent.

I stayed that way, turned inward and grieving, until Asa sat next to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

“Hey, pretty girl. How you holding up?”

“I’ve been better,” I answered him with a sniffle, unable to hide the frog in my throat.

He pulled me closer to him until I wrapped my arms around his waist and laid my head on his shoulder. His hand came up to lightly run his fingers up and down my arm, and the motion had me relaxing into his body in relief.

“It’ll get better, baby. I promise. This fuckin’ sucks, and if I could take it away from you, I would.  Nothing about this situation is okay. Not one goddamn thing. But it’ll get better,” he mumbled into my hair.

“It hurts, Asa,” I whispered back.

“I know it does, sweetheart,” he told me with a kiss on my head, “lost both my parents, too.”

I jerked at his words but didn’t speak. I didn’t want to ask what had happened. It felt insensitive to ask about it. What if they’d been killed the way my parents had? I couldn’t imagine having to explain it to anyone.

“Yeah. Mom died when I was fourteen in a car accident. One minute she was there, and then she was just… gone. Fuckin’ worst day of my life.” I felt him shake his head above me. “Dad died last year. He was sick for a long-ass time before that, though, so it was different.”

He spoke the words in a matter-of-fact tone, but I couldn’t imagine that he felt nothing, so I looked up at his face to gauge his mood.

“I’m sorry you had to go through this twice,” I told him quietly, lifting my hand to push back the hair that had fallen in his face.