Hendrix: Caldwell Brothers (The Caldwell Brothers Book 1)

I laugh as I walk into the bar tonight. Walking by Hendrix, I rub my butt, and a snort slips out unintentionally. ‘Drive him wild.’ Yes, I think I will have fun with these panties tonight.

“Squeak, what’re you smirking about?” Hendrix questions as I continue to rub my butt.

“Nothing at all, Broody Caldwell. Nothing at all.” I laugh again as I finish putting my stuff up and make my way out to the bar.

“Broody?”

“Yes, it suits you most of the time.”

He rolls his eyes then leans down, planting a kiss on my lips. “I don’t like it.”

“I didn’t think I did at first, either, but it’s growing on me.”

Tonight is steady. Not as busy as the weekends, although it certainly keeps me going for a weeknight. The weekdays are tough after being at the hospital all day, but I actually enjoy working here more as each day passes.

My period hasn’t come, but the lines on the stick said it was negative. I can’t help being a little disappointed that I’m not having a baby, even if I shouldn’t be. Really, this isn’t the best time for me to have a baby—for us to have a baby—when we are still getting used to being an ‘us.’ I have never been half of an ‘us.’ Heck, until Hendrix, I have never actually been on a date. Having a baby wouldn’t be good for either of us, but would it really have been so bad? I guess we will never know.

I smile thinking about being with Hendrix. Those panties. His panties. His piece. Sure, it isn’t accolades of love, it certainly isn’t hearts, chocolates, roses, or cupcakes, but it means something to me. My panties are my empowerment. Give and take. What’s more, Hendrix gives me that balance. I am proud to be his piece.

Thinking about his panties, I add a little more sway to my hips as I move around behind the bar. I look up and see Jared walking in. I am ready for him.

I set his beer on the bar. “What did Jay-Z call his girlfriend before he married her?”

He looks at me, smirks, and then shakes his head.

“Feyonce.” I laugh, and he cracks up.

He takes a drink then leans in. “Do you wanna hear a joke about my dick?”

“Oh, um…”

“No, she doesn’t.” Hendrix appears beside me.

“Fine, it’s too long, anyway.” He chuckles, and Hendrix starts laughing.

I don’t get why they are laughing, or why Hendrix is laughing when he was just being, well, broody.

He looks at me and smiles. “I don’t have to kill one of my favorite customers, Livi, and that was funny.”

“I don’t understand.” And I don’t.

“Livi, his dick was too long?”

I shake my head. “Still don’t get—oh.” I laugh and then snort as I put his shot in front of him. “That is funny.”

An hour later, my phone vibrates in my back pocket. As I pull it out, I recognize the number displayed on the screen.

Chills run through me, and I drop the bottle of bourbon in my hand. It crashes to the ground, shattering loudly as my body begins to shake.

Immediately, Hendrix is by my side. His arms surround me before he literally scoops me up and carries me away from the mess.

Once the phone stops vibrating, I can finally breathe again. Hendrix sets me down on a counter in the back of the kitchen, but the phones starts vibrating again before I can get a word out.

With trembling hands, I swipe the screen to answer my phone. I have to be strong.

“H-h-hello.”

“Olivia, your father is in the hospital. He’s asking for you,” my step-monster’s voice comes through the phone.

“Okay, I … ummm … I can’t make it out right now.” I panic. My dad has never wronged me. He doesn’t know what happened. No one does. When it comes to his wife, though, she does no wrong, nor do her children. Therefore, I could never tell him the truth.

“We know you don’t have money, Olivia.” The disdain she has for me is laced in her voice every time she says my name. “I’ll email your plane ticket. I have to get Bryce one, as well.”

At the mention of his name, the phone slips from my hand and clatters to the floor. Hendrix picks it up.

“This is Olivia’s boss, Hendrix Caldwell. What is going on that has her so upset?” he questions into my phone.

Unable to hear what she is saying, I merely sit helplessly on the stainless steel counter in the back of the kitchen. I try to summon courage from songs. I try to recount every piece of motivational lingerie in my arsenal. Nothing is working, though. The thoughts bouncing around in my head are too deafening for anything else to get through.

Bryce needs a plane ticket. Where is he? Why isn’t he back in California? Has he been following me?

My gut twists as fear overtakes me.

I don’t even know how long I sit there in stunned silence before Hendrix’s voice brings me back from the depths of the darkness I had plunged into.

“No need to get her a ticket. I’ll make sure she gets there for him.”

Without another word, he swipes the screen to end the call and begins watching me. I can feel it even though I refuse to look up.

Needing to focus my attention on something other than my dad and his family, I begin counting the tiles on the floor.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six…

“Livi, talk to me,” Hendrix commands.

“Nothing to say.”

He cups my chin in his hand to make me look up at him. “You’re not a bull-shitter, Livi, so don’t start bein’ one now.”

“You ever lose a part of yourself, Hendrix? Really lose something you can never get back?”

“Was it lost or taken?”

Tears fill my eyes and I shrug. “Maybe both.”

“Talk. To. Me. Stop dancing around everything for once. You may not feel strong, but you are, and you aren’t alone.”

I blow out a breath. Can I share my deepest, darkest secret with him? Can I drop my past on him?

“I can tell by that phone call, you got issues with your dad or your stepmom, but he’s sick, Livi. He wants you to come visit. It’s obvious this isn’t something you’re comfortable with, though.”

“I would have to fly to California. I can’t afford that.”

“Livi, you’re testing my patience here.”

I roll my shoulders back. “Fine, you want the story, you got it. Hope you’re ready.” I glare at him for pushing me. “I was fourteen. Bryce was sixteen. I was a late bloomer, but I was developing, and I had more than buds. Bryce noticed.”

I can see Hendrix grinding his teeth in front of me. The anger is building inside him, while the disgust grows inside of me.

“He would come in my room, and at first, he would touch me and be gentle.” As the tears roll down my face, Hendrix moves his thumbs to wipe them away. “Sometimes, it wasn’t so bad. I know I’m sick and twisted, and it’s all wrong.”

“Nothing wrong with you. He found you young and vulnerable, and he took advantage.”

I shake my head. “I thought he would stop. Like, oh, it was a one-time thing. Heck, maybe I imagined it, I would tell myself. Only, he kept coming back. Every time I would visit my dad, he would find his way into my room. He was gentle in the beginning … kind of…” I hiccup as the sobs break through.

Hendrix rests my face against his solid chest and holds me as I cry.

“The first time, my shirt ended up over my head because I wouldn’t move for him to take it off. After that, my face was always covered. Then everything escalated. I felt suffocated, Hendrix. When I would say ‘no, please don’t,’ he would cover my head with my shirt and then a pillow to keep me quiet. He was so big over me. I didn’t dare fight.” I shake against Hendrix as I mumble all of this into his chest.

“I would beg my mom not to send me to my dad’s. It became my nightmare after I learned how wrong it was. I have lived in fear that if he gets a chance, he would do it again.” I breathe in the scent of him while I cry within the safety of his arms. My body shakes as the memories flood. “Consent wasn’t given, it wasn’t even asked for.” I sob more.

“Your stepmother, Victoria, said your dad had a stroke. He’s asking for you, only you. The doctors say he is having mini-strokes behind it, and they can’t seem to stop them. This may be your only opportunity. Do you want to see your dad? Take away the fucker who touched you, do you want to see your dad? I promise you on all that I am, Livi, no one is ever going to hurt you like that again.”

Do I want to see my dad? I don’t know.

Pulling back, I grab the bar towel out of Hendrix’s back pocket. I blow my nose into it, knowing I am a complete mess.

“Fuckin’ crazy,” Hendrix says from beside me at my actions.

“I”—hiccup—“don’t know.”

“I’ll go with you. This way, you can see your dad and stay safe.”

“Really?” I question, unbelieving.

I blow my nose again as Hendrix merely shakes his head at me.

“Livi, please don’t question my word.”

Jagger walks in the kitchen. “Everything okay?”

“You and Morrison are gonna have to step in here for a few days,” he tells him. “Livi and I are gonna go see her old man.”

“He okay?” Jagger asks, coming up to rub my back.

I shake my head.

“He’s in the hospital in California,” Hendrix explains, pulling me against him.

“You sure you can—”

“I’m one hundred percent sure I can trust you two to deal with this place, starting now. I’m taking Livi home, and we’re gonna get some sleep. One of you two can take us in the morning.”

“Of course, you know that’s a given, man,” Jagger says. “Go.”

When we get back to Hendrix’s place, he leads me upstairs, strips me down, throws a shirt over me, and then pulls back the covers.

“Get in bed, babe. I got it from here.”

*.*.*.*

I absolutely hate flying. Whoever decided climbing into a tin can and propelling yourself into the air was a smart idea was completely off their rocker. The Wright Brothers and all their genius—whatever.

Butterflies flutter in my stomach as my nerves overtake me. I run to the bathroom and empty the contents of last night’s dinner. Immediately, Hendrix is beside me, holding my hair back.

“You okay, Livi?”

I nod my head as I try not to think of going up in the air. The climb inch by inch, foot by foot, mile by—

I hunch over the toilet again as now I am left with the dry heaves.

Floating in the clouds, soaring in the sky … I was not meant to be a bird; therefore, none of this appeals to me.

“Livi.” Hendrix doesn’t try to hide his concern in his tone.

“I’m okay. I guess I should’ve mentioned I hate flying.” I snort, laughing at myself, which causes me to lurch with dry heaves again.

Once Hendrix releases his hold on my hair and disappears out of the bathroom, I take the time to push down the rest of my nausea and brush my teeth. He returns with a cup of water and Dramamine. I smile softly as I take the pills and finish getting ready.

Stepping outside, I see Morrison’s shiny sports car sitting out front. Ever the stylish one, Morrison is in black slacks; a gray, button down shirt; and aviator sunglasses. He looks like he just left a photo shoot for a high class fashion magazine. I shake my head at him as he approaches us. It is way too early in the morning for anyone to look that put together.

He nods to Hendrix before wrapping his big arms around me in a hug. Hendrix practically growls, while I laugh until I snort. I am a goober, but oh well.

Taking my bag, Hendrix loads everything into the back of his classic Chevy.

“Look, man, she’s powerful, but she isn’t made to hug those curves in a drift like your foreign, aluminum can, excuse for a car, Morrison. Don’t drive it like you stole it, fucker,” Hendrix orders.

Boys and their toys.

I shake my head and let out another giggle as I settle into the backseat, surprised when Hendrix joins me rather than sit up front and be a passenger seat driver to his brother.

Nerves consume me the closer we get to the airport. Am I really going back there? Why does my dad want to see me so badly?

I really wish I could puke again; only, the medication is doing its job.

Hendrix laces our hands together as we make our way through the airport. The only time he isn’t touching me in some form of comfort, guidance, or possessiveness is when we have to pass through the security checkpoint individually. I find his attentiveness to me simply another reason to love him.

Gasp.

“Livi, are you okay?”

No, I am not okay. I am in love with Hendrix Caldwell. He surely isn’t ready for this admission. I can’t tell him any of this.

Pushing it down, I swallow hard.

“I’m good. Nervous about flying, that’s all.”

After about seven hours, we make it safely to California. Thankfully, Hendrix knew I wouldn’t want to inconvenience my stepmother nor would I want to be indebted to any of them, so he rented a car for us.

Pulling up to the hospital, I am full of mixed emotions. I do this for a living. I deal, day in and day out, with patients in the same situation as my dad—medical emergencies and not being prepared for them.

Has my step-monster already signed a DNR? If one of these mini-strokes were to be more, is my dad’s paperwork in order? Are his affairs in order? Does my step-monster understand the need and the importance of a medical power of attorney? Should he lose his ability to be cognizant of his surroundings and unable to make sound decisions, someone needs to have a medical power of attorney to handle his healthcare and wellbeing. Does he have a living will? How does he truly feel about life support?

The more I allow my brain to work through all the questions I don’t have answers to, the more I realize I don’t know anything about my dad.

For the first time in forever, I know that giving up control is exactly what I need. More importantly, I know Hendrix Caldwell will deliver on his promise. I just hope someday I can be half as important to him as he is to me.