Heathens & Hold Ups (Book 2 of the Heathens Duet)

Chapter 31- Callie

         Two whole days. For two whole days, okay maybe a little more than that. It's been at least forty-eight and way less than seventy-two hours. The slip of paper has felt like a weight around my thoughts. I'm not one to believe in signs. That's more my aunt's thing. Still, it's been sitting there, taunting me to just call Kaitlyn Walker. It's not even a scary name, but it might as well be the boogeyman for all the power it has over me. Like just calling would be admitting so much.

That I know the men beneath the masks.

Besides, who's to say she can even be trusted? Yeah, they looked all cozy on her social media, but that picture looked a good four or five years old. People change. God knows I have.

It's a problem I wish I could ask for help with, but I don't want to drag Aunt Rachel into things even though I'm pretty sure she suspects more than I've told her. She's been having more good days than bad lately with her flare ups and I don't want to be the cause of that flipping. I know, at least on a purely intellectual level, that that's not how her diagnosis works. She's always going to be on a declining hill. We just have to be grateful for those plateaus. It just feels like she was racing down the hill without brakes while I was gone. Maya and her tried their best to hide it from me, but I'm not blind.

She could barely hold her cards my first poker night back. She was drinking non-alcoholic whiskey and hoping I wouldn't notice the difference while she pretended things was normal. Everything she did was to make me feel better even while she was struggling.

No. I won't be bringing my problems to her door. I am however, bringing the rest of the boxed wine Nicole left at my place and a hot and ready pizza I picked up on the way.

Mr. Miller answers the door with rosy smiling cheeks. I guess Rachel and him have already started playing. He claps a hand around my shoulder, ushering me in and taking the pizza from me in his other arm. "Trouble's here," he announces with a hearty laugh.

"Get in here girlie," Rachel calls. I search for signs of what kind of day I'm in for, prepared to plaster a smile on for the strongest woman I know, even if her body doesn't always show it.

Her stormy eyes narrow as she catches me studying her. "I can practically hear you over there thinking. I'm fine. Quit your damn frettin'," she scolds. "Set your stuff down and grab yourself a plate. You can get dealt in next hand. We're still waiting on Nicole anyways," she explains as she starts dealing out cards to Maya, Mr. Miller, and herself.

"I'm sure she's not too far behind," I tell them. She was a bit sluggish the morning after our sleepover, but she's had a full day to recover.

I take a seat and watch as my aunt accumulates a healthy pile of chips before she folds a few rounds early to sprinkle them back around the table. Pretty sure everyone knows she threw those, but her playful banter makes it so there's no bitter feelings.

I'm only two rounds in before Nicole rushes in with her arms laden down with her homemade salsa and a bottle of tequila. "I brought your favorite," she announces with a wiggle of her brows. "And myself, of course." I think it's the worm, but I've already started with a glass of wine and been talked into sharing some of Rachel's whiskey. She has yet to make a convert of Rachel, but she swears every week at poker that this will be the day that she brings my aunt over to the light. I think she just loves that my best friend doesn't treat her like she's some frail old lady despite her diagnosis.

"Bring that paint thinner over and we'll get you dealt in on the next round."

"If you want a shot, all you have to do is ask," she laughs while plopping down across the table.