But even with all the reasons in the world, and all that I’ve stacked against her, I’m on my way to pick her up and carry out this mission. She’s on the team, and as much as I’ve tried to hold back, I don’t think I can much longer. Now I just need to convince her that trusting me is a safe bet.
4
Violet
“I think the guns you’ve got are good,” Cas says from behind me, making me turn to look at her. I’m a ball of nerves. Excitement and all kinds of other shit I can’t explain are pumping through me, and I don’t know what to do with it all. I don’t know how I kept a straight face in there through it all when I really wanted to jump up and do a fist pump. Then maybe throw up. I’m feeling way too much crap right now.
“Yeah, and I’m good with both of them,” I reply casually, but she just smiles and cocks an eyebrow at me. We still have a few guns in my truck that we’ve been training with, and even with soft plans in place for where we’re going, I’m not one hundred percent sure what I might end up needing. It’s better to have a few to choose from, just in case. I want to be prepared for almost anything.
“You did good, V. With some time, it won’t be so…” she shakes her head like she’s searching for the right word, making her dark ponytail sway with the motion, “…combative.” She snaps her fingers as she says the word, then takes a few steps towards me, her heavy boots crackling on the gravel beneath us. “You go and do this and show everyone you’ve got what it takes. I fucking know you have it. I can see it. Saw that same look once before when I looked in the mirror years ago.”
She points her thumb over her shoulder back to the door of the clubhouse. “I know it probably took a lot for you to play cocky in there, but I promise you, you don’t have to play. You have every right to be cocky. Now go and show everyone you do.”
I can’t stop myself from closing the distance between Cas and me, pulling her in for a hug. It’s taken her some time to get used to my hugs. I know her experiences in growing up were different than mine and my brother’s. We can barely leave a room without someone wanting to pull us into a hug or lay a few pecks on our cheeks. I ate up the attention at home because it was the only place I ever got it. My family was all I had, but hopefully I’ll have this club, too. I’ll have something that’s mine. That I wasn’t born into. Somewhere I can fit in, because I don't seem to fit in anywhere.
Unlike months before, this hug comes easy to her, and she returns it with a hard squeeze. “Don’t forget it’s going to be more difficult to run at a higher elevation than you’re used to. At higher altitudes, like in Colorado, the air is thin, which means you’ll get less oxygen per breath you take. You’ll have to put in a lot more effort and work much harder to run at the same pace you’re used to,” she says before pulling back. “Be careful.”
“You’re worse than my brother,” I tease, trying to relieve a little bit of the emotion floating in the air around us.
“No one is worse than my Vincent.”
“He must be rubbing off on you.”
“Oh, he’s…” I throw my hand up, not wanting her to finish that sentence. She laughs.
“I’ll tell Scribe you went to pack a bag,” she says.
“Thanks.” I give her one last look before I hop into my truck and take off for my apartment. I go through everything that happened. I know Cas had been saying I would get this, but to really have it, to know I have a shot at being a real member of the Ghost Riders, is better than anything I’ve ever accomplished before.
Prospect. I have my freaking foot in the door. I wonder if this is how Vincent felt when he got into the FBI. I feel a tug of guilt at not being able to call him up and tell him about it. I tell him most things. Before Cas, he was my best friend. My only friend, really, and he had to be. I was his little sister. He was stuck with me. The only person who seemed to get me.
When I hit my apartment, I fly up the stairs, unlock my front door, and then kick it closed behind me. I flip on the light and stop short when I see my brother sitting on my couch, arms folded over his chest looking just like my father.
His dark hair is cut short and he’s built like a freaking tank. A very annoyed-looking tank.
“I’m really going to have to take that key back if you’re going to be all creepy and sit in the dark.” I drop my keys and the folder on the table by the front door. “The least you could do is clean or something,” I joke, but he doesn’t even crack a smile. He just stares…and stares.