Asa wrapped his arm around my shoulder and helped me into the moving van that carried his motorcycle and my pitiful four bags before climbing in and starting the engine. I waved as we pulled away and couldn’t help the sob that left my throat when I watched Cody stand next to Gram, setting his arm around her shoulders.

Asa’s friends, Tommy and Dragon, were planning on escorting us north on their bikes and then continuing to Eugene once we’d settled in my new place. We wouldn’t need the extra protection once we met up with the crew in central California, and Asa had explained that it would give him more time with me if the guys didn’t stay with us. I wasn’t sure why their itinerary had anything to do with us, but I didn’t ask about it either. I didn’t care what they were doing as long as Asa could stay as long as possible before leaving me behind.

Poet and his group were going to stay with Gram for the next week to make sure things went smoothly, but they didn’t seem too concerned. The Jimenez gang was only interested in me, and according to Poet, with me out of the picture, they’d lose interest. I think that Poet may have stayed for another reason entirely—to make sure that Gram had everything she needed as she took care of the enormous responsibility of going through my parents’ things and putting them to rest. I was glad that he chose to stay for her when I couldn’t, but it didn’t help the burning in my chest when I thought of her doing those things without me, so I made an effort not to think about it.

I was getting pretty good at not thinking about things.

By the time we hit the highway, I had controlled my tears for the most part, but I was staring out the window, refusing to look at Asa. Being alone with him for the first time was awkward and uncomfortable, and the fact that he was going to be paying for my entire life made things infinitely worse. Did I say thank you? It seemed so ridiculous to say thank you for such an enormous thing, like the word just didn’t encompass enough to fully express my gratitude.

I was busy feeling uncomfortable, with stray tears running down my face, when he reached out and rubbed his hand up and down my thigh.

“Hey, Sugar. Look at me, would ya?”

I turned my face in his direction, not planning to meet his eyes, but he caught me with them anyway.

“It’s me and you now, yeah? You remember my promise?” he waited until I nodded before looking at the road again. “Why don’t you lay down? It’s been a long fuckin’ day already and we’ve got a long way to go.” He patted his thigh, raising his arm to lay it across the back of the seat and run his hand over the back of my hair.

I thought about saying I wasn’t tired, or spouting something sarcastic about him telling me what to do, but his hand gently smoothing the hair at the back of my head reminded me that he was just taking care of me like he’d promised. I was sixteen years old, alone, and moving away from the only life I’d ever known… and I wanted someone to take care of me. I wasn’t ready to stand on my own two feet, no matter how weak that made me.

So I laid down, my head in his lap and the seatbelt digging into my hip, and I quietly cried myself to sleep as he ran his fingers through my hair and drove us to my new life.

Chapter 22

Callie

My memories of the first few weeks in Sacramento aren’t very clear. They’re mostly a blur of setting up my new place and registering for a new school, but every single one of them has one clear focal point. Asa.

Poet had made some calls while we drove north, and there was an empty apartment waiting for us by the time we’d arrived. The complex was owned by one of the members of the club they belonged to, and according to Asa, the guy had given him a smokin’ deal. He refused to tell me how much he was paying, but when I saw it for the first time, I couldn’t help but think that whatever he was paying had to be too much.

It was clean, but old and small and completely unlike what I was used to. The house I’d grown up in wasn’t a mansion by any means, but my dad had kept the appliances updated, and my mom had taken pride in the way our house was decorated. Needless to say, the avocado green sink, toilet and bathtub set in my new bathroom and the fridge in my new kitchen that made a loud humming noise whenever it kicked on, were a far cry from my old home. But I didn’t say a word.

What was there to say?

I wasn’t about to bitch about the apartment not being up to my snobby standards—it would make him feel like shit. Asa was paying for an apartment that he wouldn’t even be living in, and I had no room to complain, not really. All the appliances appeared to work, there was a lock on the door, and most importantly, it was clean. And if, when I saw my new home the first time, I had to pretend to use the bathroom so I could lock the door and let a few tears escape—well, I’d never admit to it.

The first night we were there, we had to drive to Wal-Mart for blankets and toilet paper, but we were too tired to shop for anything else and ended up sleeping curled up on the floor of the bedroom wrapped in my new blue and yellow comforter set.

Sleeping was a very loose term for what I’d done that night.

The arrival in my new apartment had not only marked the beginning of a new life, but also the start of nightmares that would plague me on and off for the next few years. It was also the first time Asa wrapped me in his arms and calmed me down afterward, but it wasn’t the last.

Our first week was spent outfitting the new apartment with anything and everything I could need, from shampoo to barstools for the kitchen counter. I tried to be as frugal as possible, knowing that even if my parents had some life insurance policy no one knew about, I still wouldn’t be able to pay Asa back any time soon. Asa, however, insisted on buying anything he could get his hands on while I tried to bite my tongue and sneak odds and ends back onto the shelves without him noticing. He didn’t let me get away with it, though, and we ended up backtracking, more often than not, for the items that I’d placed haphazardly around the stores.