Taivon: Book Three of the Cantrell Brothers Series

Chapter Four

Taivon woke with a start, his breathing the only sound in his bedroom as he sat up. The sheets were too warm, their light texture getting tangled with his sweaty legs. For a moment, Taivon thought he was having a heart attack. His chest felt like something was trying to beat its way out, his entire body trembled, and his throat felt raw – as if he'd been up all night screaming.

They happened almost all the time, these awful nightmares that gripped with such an intensity he sometimes cried when he woke up. They were always about her. Always about Holly dying in his car, and him shaking her, trying to wake her up, but to no avail. She always ended up feeling cold in his arms, her eyes wide open, glazed with the look of death; until, he would finally wake up and shut himself down.

Only, he couldn't shut himself down today. Today was important. Today was his first “date” with the woman who could take all the pain away – the woman who was his only source of salvation. He hoped Alix could do it, he really did. He prayed that she would act just like Holly had, so that he could resume the life he'd lived those years ago.

Wiping the tears that were in his eyes, he padded out of bed, feet slapping against the light blue carpet floor. The first thing he did was go to the kitchen and down his medication before heading back to his bedroom. The warm air surrounded him and was too thick with humidity, but he embraced it, changing into his pair of compression and then athletic shorts before slipping on his running shoes. He stopped only for a second to slide on a t-shirt before heading out the door.

His Nikes hit the pavement a second later, and he just ran. He ran past the old bakery that wasn't even open yet, past his middle class neighbors' houses that were still dark with the pre-dawn lack of light, and into the valley of Cayman Park.

Wind, wet with the air's thick moisture, whipped against his face, and he found himself sweating with every breath that went in and out of his lungs. The giant trees around him provided Taivon no protection from the rough breeze, but he didn't mind. His shoes crunched against the gravel paths, and his thighs felt that familiar burn as he trekked up the steep incline of hills. He reveled in all of it. From the burning in his body and the sweat that soaked into his shirt and shorts, he couldn't get enough.

When he crested the top of the hill that was only two blocks away from his house, Taivon slowed his steps, until he was at a comfortable walk. A few other people were on the sidewalk, some walking their dogs and others running. They didn't wave to him, and he didn't reciprocate anything back, only stretching out his legs, torso, and arms as he used his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face.

It had been established quite some time ago, ever since he first moved here and just like at Yellowstone, that he wasn't that one neighbor guy who you invited over for Super Bowl parties just because it was a neighborly thing to do. No, most of them, except for a few of the older women, who he liked simply because his mother and father had taught him to be respectful, probably wouldn't even call if his house would start on fire. Taivon didn't blame them. He'd been less than friendly when he'd been forced to settle down in the middle of Silver Gate.

After he'd moved from Florida to Wyoming, he'd looked all over for a place up in the mountains, away from everybody. Unfortunately, his income hadn't allowed it, which was why he was here, staring at his one story home that was surrounded by so many others. With its yellow siding, white trim, and shutters, it was the picture perfect image of his and Holly's old home.

If he still saw them, his therapists would have killed him.

The thought brought a bittersweet, half-smile to his face, and as he walked up the concrete front steps, he noticed the chipped siding that showed signs of age and once again heard the creak of the rusted hinges. He'd been planning on getting them fixed, so that he could at least tell himself he was trying to forget her, but that had been four years ago, and Taivon was just done. Even the living room walls were the same shade of beige that they'd been at his old home, but they were different. Instead of a collage of pictures, the walls were bare.