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Bad timing, but the thought popped into my head just the same. He passed his exams when we were only halfway through the school year. Incredible.
Focusing back on his last comment I asked, “How would we do that?”
“It turns out my parents weren't always so careful to stay within the law when working some of their deals. Dom didn't go into detail, but he's working on a few things, enough maybe to give us leverage to get them to back down. What they want more than to manipulate me is to continue to live their extravagant lifestyle.”
“I hate this.”
“I'm so sorry you were dragged through all of this, but I will be coming back for you.”
“I'll be waiting.”
“I'll call you once I get settled.”
We hadn't spent any time together in the past few weeks, but I got to at least see him every day. Now he was leaving. I was thinking on this when he said. “I'd understand if you didn't want to wait…if you didn't want to deal with all of this shit.”
“That's a fucking stupid thing to say.”
He grinned. “Agreed. Let me know when you get settled in Maine. I'll visit, repeatedly.”
Pressing my forehead into his chest, I nodded my reply since speaking was impossible.
We spent the next few hours just being together before he followed me home. He walked me to the door and kissed me: a kiss so bittersweet my eyes stung from the tears I valiantly held back. I watched as he climbed back onto his bike and rode off into the sunset. I stood there long after his taillights had faded in the distance, unable and unwilling to move.
Chapter Eleven
The weeks that followed Bastian's departure were difficult, but not nearly as hard to handle as I feared. As promised, he wrote to me with his address, but then there was nothing. I suspected that he was focusing on learning the ropes and getting acclimated to his temporary home.
Every day I missed him, but knowing he was off doing what he wanted made it easier to handle. Still his absence hurt and that pain had me churning out painting after painting which were, according to Ms. Whitney, some of my best work. Everywhere I looked reminded me of him. In school I was there, but I wasn't really there. No reminder felt more poignant than the sight of Bastian's empty chair in English.
The Rosses had fallen disturbingly quiet, but Cal's garage was still his, so at least there was that. His garage became a regular hangout for me, because I felt closer to Bastian there, so it wasn't really a surprise that Caden and I grew close.
On one of these visits, Caden and I sat in the breakroom sharing a pizza. It was true, he was a bottomless pit—eating two slices to every one of mine, because he could fold a slice and stuff half of it in his mouth in one bite. He swallowed and asked, “Have you heard from Bastian?”
“Only that he arrived safely.”
“Yeah, I haven't heard from him either. I was taking it personally, but if he hasn't called you, he's clearly busy.”
Whether his observation was true or not didn't matter. I liked hearing it. “Can I ask you something, Caden?”
“Shoot.”
“Why aren't you in school?”
“Got my GED. I'm not much of a student. I'm better with my hands, and besides I need the money for rent.”
“You don't live with your parents?”
In response, his easy smile faded. He wouldn't look at me as he answered, his eyes staying fixed on his pizza. “They died.”
My heart twisted in my chest. There was something about Caden, under the affable exterior, which called to me. He seemed a lost soul—I’d suspected there was something dark in his past, because every once and a while a devastating sadness would come over him, but I hadn't expected that.
“I'm sorry Caden, I didn't know.”
“It's cool. It was a long time ago.” Despite his words, I knew he wasn't being honest with me or himself. I touched his arm and he lifted his gaze to mine.
“If you ever want to talk about it...”
He nodded in reply, then changed the subject.
