This is my first story. I'm posting because a friend encouraged me. I'm going to post all parts today and hope for the best despite my nervousness. If it goes over well, I might post some of my other stories. I'd appreciate knowing your thoughts.
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Twin waterfalls cascaded over Heather's cheeks as she hastily swiped at them, attempting but failing to prevent them from blurring her vision as she drove. Her head throbbed with a dull ache as she took the next exit off the highway. Sniffling in relief, a small smile curled her mouth, she was almost there. Almost free. Colton would help her get on her feet. She needed to stop thinking that her world was ending and adopt the mindset that a new one was just beginning.
~ ~ ~
Colton sighed as he wiped his grease covered hands on the dirty rag hanging out of his back pocket, his eyes on the setting sun in the distance. Shoving the rag back into place, he frowned as he turned back towards his work in progress, debating whether to change out the Dodge Challenger's calipers tonight or save it for another day. Given the fading daylight, and the grumbling coming from his stomach, Colton opted for the second, thinking a microwaved 'Hungry man meal' and the book he'd left on his coffee table sounded a hell of a lot better than more physical labour.
Meticulously organizing his tools back onto his workbench, Colton allowed himself only a moment to glance at the picture he'd stuck to the whiteboard over his bench, his gaze tracing the contours of his sister's beautiful face with pained eyes. How long had it been since he'd seen her? Called her? Four months? Five? Sighing he turned away, lowering the garage door, turning off the lights and locking the man door of his detached garage before heading into the small two-bedroom bungalow he'd bought the previous year.
Toeing off his work boots, he made his way to the kitchen, thoroughly washing his hands before reaching into the freezer for his meal. While it cooked, he gathered his book from the living room, pointedly ignoring the wall of books opposite the couch, a remnant from his time under his father's rule he hadn't been able to shake in his exile.
Grabbing a fork from his utensil drawer, Colton carelessly tossed his meal and his book down on the small dinette table and pulled out his seat. Threading his fingers through his shaggy black hair, he reminded himself to get a haircut soon as he opened his dogeared book. He'd been reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance for the last few days, finding the text both engaging and thought provoking. He made it another thirty pages deep when a short passage made him pause.
"Dad?"
"What?" A small bird rises from a tree in front of us.
"What should I be when I grow up?"
The bird disappears over a far ridge. I don't know what to say. "Honest," I finally say.
Colton grimaced, wishing his father was even half the man the character in his book was. Setting the paperback aside, he shoved a final forkful of thawed mashed potatoes and green beans into his mouth. Colton's father had never cared about the content of his character, only the number of facts in his head and the awards on his walls. If he were to pose the same question, he imagined his father would reply with 'successful'. What was success though? Colton would never possess the wealth his father had, yet he felt more fulfilled now than he ever had living with the 'privilege' money had once afforded him. Sighing, he set his fork down and stared absently at the empty seat across from him. He may feel more fulfilled, but he was certainly lonelier.
Placing his hands on his muscled thighs he sighed again, loudly, annoyed with himself for thinking about her. Colton was nothing if not disciplined and letting his mind wander was something he'd fiercely attempted to train out of his system. His little sister was his one exception to everything though. Closing his eyes, he pictured her radiant smile the last time he'd seen her, the way she'd rushed into his arms upon spying him after the last violin performance he'd attended. The feel of her long, wavy, dirty blonde hair tumbling over his forearms as they braced her back, squeezing her to him. The vanilla peony scent of her creamy skin in his nostrils as she stood on her tippy toes to kiss his cheek in greeting with her full red mouth.
The twitch below his belt forced his eyes open, thrusting him out of the memory and back into his small kitchen. Picking up the empty box his meal came in, he shoved it in the trash, disgusted with himself. If his father's disappointment hadn't been enough to keep him away from his family, his unnatural feelings towards his sister certainly did the trick.
Leaving the kitchen, he forced himself into the bedroom adjacent to his, set on punishing himself despite the ache he already felt in his muscles. Stripping out of his Henley, Colton positioned his large body under his weight bench, adjusting his grip before pushing up against the heavy weight holding the bar in place. Exhaling, he lifted, grunting as he lowered the weight to his chest. Pumping his arms rhythmically, he thought of his father's furious face when he'd told him he was dropping out of biochemical engineering to pursue automotive mechanics. It didn't work though. All he saw was his sister's horrified face, her green eyes and heart shaped face pleading silently with him not to do it, not to leave her alone with their father.
Grunting, he shifted his thoughts to martial arts and his embarrassing defeat the last time he'd competed. His father screaming from the sidelines to push through the pain in his knee despite the fact he felt he could barely stand, let alone fight. Reminding him that he'd always been a trophy and never a man. That did it. Furious, Colton punched out an extra set, slamming the bar back into place a moment later before he let his hands fall to his sweaty chest and panted his exhaustion.
He had almost fallen asleep right there on his bench when the doorbell rang. Cocking a brow in curiosity, Colton frowned. He didn't get visitors. He'd burned too many bridges. His friends consisted of the people he worked with and Marisol, the old French woman that lived next door to him. Pushing himself to his feet, not bothering with his shirt, Colton made his way to the front door, twisting the lock out of the way before pulling back the heavy wood. He froze, his fingers tightening on the door handle as his eyes widened, his jaw clenching.
"Hey, big brother," Heather whispered with a small sad smile as she looked up at him, a suitcase at her feet. Reflexively, she reached up to smooth her hair, wiping her cheeks with the heel of her palms, embarrassed to see the black steaks transfer from her ruined mascara. "Sorry to just show up like this," she began, drawing in a shaky breath, "I must look..." she trailed off, her eyes welling again. Furious with herself, she closed her eyes and forced back the tears. When she looked up at him again, her gaze was clear, hard, focused. "I need your help."
