12. Vex

12

VEX

H alo and Clutch are first up the driveway. But as I greet them, I see King's truck pull up with Niro, Cat, and Bates in it.

"Saint's at the strip club taking care of a cash run," King says. "Spark went with him, but they'll join when they can. What can we do, brother?"

I wait as I see Switch arrive. "Sorry. The physical therapist comes to our house once a week. Was in the middle of treatment."

"No worries. One sec." I turn and yell into the house. "Calista?"

When she arrives, some of the guys give me a knowing stare. I simply roll my eyes.

"Your mom still upstairs?" I ask quietly.

She nods, but when she sees who is standing on the driveway, her face drains of color. As if she's seen a ghost. If I didn't know better, I would say she's scared.

She backs away from the door.

I place a hand on her shoulder. "You okay, Cal?"

She shirks out from underneath. "I'm fine. Who is this?"

"My club," I say. "That's King, my president. And you know Switch." I introduce all the others. "And this is Calista, my mom's neighbor's daughter. We were friends when we were young."

"And now?" Niro asks.

I understand his meaning but choose not to engage. "And now we make a human chain to help Calista clean up her mom's house. Mrs. Moray needs a little assistance right now. We'll pass it down the stairs, then form a left or right chain. Left will lead to the skip. Right to the living room. Calista can decide what to keep as a first pass. Then her mom can decide what she wants to keep from the pile."

"Can I have a word with you?" Calista says. "In private."

There's a waver of fear in her voice, and I don't understand it. "Sure. Can you guys deal with all the stuff on the porch there?" I point to everything Calista has already dragged from the bathroom.

I step into the house with her and close the door. "What's up?"

She glances at the closed door. "Why did you invite all those men to Mom's house?" she asks.

"Because you said you wanted to get most of this cleaned out before the full cleaning crew comes through. Manpower helps."

"I don't want them all in here," she says.

"Why? They're my friends. They're here to do us a favor."

"They're here to do you a favor. I didn't ask for them to be here. I didn't…"

"Hey, Cal." When I put my hand on her shoulder, I can feel her shake. "Babe."

She slaps my hand away but is biting down on her lip. "I can't have them all in here. I can't have?—"

I tug her into my arms. I don't know what the fuck is going on, but this isn't Calista. Something has her…terrified.

"Calista, you're scaring me," I admit.

Her fingers dig into my cut as she buries her forehead against my chest. She breathes deeply. I feel the shaking fade. I hear her breath slow. And I try to ignore how fucking good she feels pressed against my body.

Slowly, she unfurls from her position, tosses her hair back over her shoulder, takes a final deep breath. "Don't let them in the house."

"You're being ungrateful, Calista. They came to help."

"I said don't let them in the house."

I don't know what the fuck is going on, but I'm going to drop it.

For now.

"You okay if just me and Switch come in? He was here yesterday. I'll pass shit to you. You pass to Switch in the living room or Halo outside the door on the porch. You can triage what we're keeping."

She glances towards the living room as sweat forms on her upper lip and brow. "Fine."

I place a palm on her cheek. Her skin is so fucking soft, I want to stroke it. "Babe, can you tell me what the hell just happened? It's obviously something big."

She looks up at me, and it's written all over her face just how torn she is. "I wish I could."

The words are whispered.

"I got you, Cal. I promise. All the shit, all the water under the bridge, all the hate you carry in your heart and the hurt I carry in mine—none of it matters. If you were at risk, I'd keep you safe. I promise."

"But you didn't," she says.

"Knock, knock," Switch says, stepping into the hallway. "The porch is cleared. You want to tell us where to start next?"

"The stairs," Calista says. "I'll show you. Just—" She turns to face me. "I think too many people in the house would overwhelm Mom. Maybe just the two of you?"

There's so much more I want to say.

Her words are like a barb to my heart. How can she think I didn't keep her safe when I threw away my own future to make sure she had one? I had to put all the dreams I had of travel and a different kind of life on hold to fulfill an obligation to the Iron Outlaws.

With the hurt sitting heavy in my chest, I head to the door and see the guys chatting and smoking cigarettes.

"Shit, I want one of those," Switch says behind me.

"You forget I saw your ‘stop smoking' chart when I helped you move the bed last week. You and I both know you want what's on that fucking chart more than you want a cancer stick."

"Like you would be unhappy if you got a quit chart with thirty different things to do with rope on it."

I look at him. "Fair."

It takes a minute to get the line set up. Calista doesn't meet my eye as I head to the first step. I'm pretty sure the whole pile is going to collapse into the hall if I start on the bottom step, but I do it anyway.

At first, it's slow going as we all settle into the process. But eventually, we all find our rhythm. I can hear my brothers outside on the driveway, laughing and teasing each other.

Niro keeps calling Halo Daddy .

Clutch teases King about some shit I don't catch, but it results in King throwing a water-damaged book we found at him.

Bates makes arrangements with Niro for the two of them to take Cat and Vi out to some new restaurant Vi wanted to try.

It's the beat of my life.

Other people's stories.

Other people's lives.

Living on the periphery.

But most of the time, I watch Calista. She's quiet, and I almost miss her feisty responses and quick-witted comebacks. She's wearing jeans that hug her ass and a thick sweater. Her long hair is up in a ponytail, and I think back to Switch's comment about rope.

I'd love to tie her up. Shibari is an art form as much as it's arousing to take a woman when she is utterly helpless but to yield. I can see Calista roped in my head. Red lipstick. A thick ponytail that moves all her hair away from the knots. I could hold on to it and make her spin slowly.

When we were young, I never thought of her as more than a friend. When she ghosted me, I tried not to think of her at all. But now that she's back, all I can seem to think of is the two of us naked.

Don't know why I suddenly can't wait to cuff my hand around her narrow and fragile wrists and hold them over her head, even as I remember the conversation I had with the Sicilians this morning.

I stare down at the stack of old National Geographic magazines from 1986 and hand them to Calista. "Should probably think about selling those. Bet your mom could get some money from them."

Calista takes them from me. "She doesn't need the money. She just needs her home back. Plus, if I leave her with a pile of things to sell, she's never going to do it. They'll just get stacked back on the stairs."

"What are you doing?" Mrs. Moray suddenly shrieks from the landing above us.

"They're just clearing the stairs like we talked about," Calista says, coming to stand by my side.

"Why is Tiberius here?" she asks.

"Just came to help Calista, Mrs. Moray. You need to be able to get down these stairs."

"I don't want you here. You made Calista leave."

I shrug, then look at Calista. "Didn't make your daughter do anything she didn't want to," I say.

Tears swim in her eyes. "I saw what you're doing. You're throwing it all away. Don't listen to him, Calista."

"We're not, Mom. I promise." Calista moves closer to the bottom step. "Only ruined things. Things with mold on them."

"My things," Mrs. Moray says. And there's enough hurt in her voice to put aside the cruel words she just threw my way.

It gives me an idea. "One second."

I clear the mess of the bottom five steps where junk has slipped and piles collapsed. "Let me get you down here so you can see better what we're doing."

Once the pathway is cleared, I jog up the steps and help her down them and into the living room, where a small but considerable pile is neatly stacked by the window. "Look, Calista saved all the good things."

Mrs. Moray looks at the pile and then out of the window at the skip.

Calista steps between her and the window. "We found some copies of an old National Geographic. I can try and sell them for you to see if you could make a few dollars from them."

Mrs. Moray is distracted as easily as a four-year-old when someone offers them a candy. "We can sell them and make money?"

"Yeah," Calista says. "I can help you."

She looks at Switch. "You piled them nicely."

"Yes, ma'am. Wouldn't want to break any of your nice things."

Mrs. Moray leans a little to look around at the skip. "But those things…"

"Wait," I say, and then I tug on my boots, jog to the skip, and find the nastiest, moldiest piece of crap I can find. Then, I take it back to the house. "This is the kind of thing we're throwing out, Mrs. Moray. Nothing you'd be proud of owning. Nothing that will make your house nice. Nothing that would make any money if you tried to sell it."

There is a long pause, and then, Mrs. Moray sniffs and tugs her long cardigan around her middle. "Okay."

I see Calista's shoulders drop in relief at the word. She puts her arm over her mom's shoulder. "We're doing the stairs first, and then we would like to do the spare bedroom. Do you think that would be okay?"

She looks at the pile of things we saved. "And you'd keep the good things. Because I've had some things a really long time."

Calista leads her to the kitchen. "We would. Why don't you help me make some coffee?"

Switch rubs his hands over his face and blows out a breath.

"You okay?" I ask him.

"Just thinking of Mom. She's being a trooper through her chemo, but the idea of her one day getting…" He points in the direction of the kitchen, where I can hear cupboards being opened and closed.

"Yeah. Same. Can't imagine what it will be like without either of my folks."

Calista comes back into the living area. "Thank you," she says. "For helping her settle. For doing this."

"It's what friends do," I say, and the look I give her dares her to tell me we're not friends.

But she doesn't.

She simply nods and goes back to the pile in the hallway.

"Let's go," I say as I follow her.

Through the doorway, I see Niro toss his cigarette butt into the skip, and King hit him over the back of the head.

He rubs the back of his skull. "What was that for?"

King shakes his head. "You just tossed a lit cigarette into the skip."

"So?" Niro says.

"Basic chemistry one-oh-one," Clutch says. "Fuel is one of the basic requirements for a fire."

Niro pops his head over the skip. "Oh, fuck." He jumps into the skip, stamps around a few times, then jumps out. "I mean, it would make more room for garbage if we burned it."

Halo chuckles. "Let's get this done."

And so, we do.