by Marie Harte
It all seemed so normal, a long-ago life belonging to someone else.
So strange to remember that time as if it were yesterday, a clear and present echo of better days.
Because just a year later his life had changed, and everything he’d once thought about himself had gone out the window. He hadn’t been a good boy at all; he’d been bad. The worst son a parent could have. Shitty and worthless, except in Reid’s eyes.
His brother used to look at him as if Cash could do no wrong, no matter what their father said. Until Cash had fucked up one too many times in high school and been kicked out of the house. Fourteen years later, he’d been booted out of the USMC. Fired from one job to the next until Reid had created Vets on the Go! to help Cash.
Reid had fixed everything, the way he’d been trying to fix everything throughout their childhood. What kind of life was that for a young boy who’d never put a foot wrong?
Standing here, in the place where Charles Griffith had made it his mission to teach Cash how useless he was, brought it all back.
He sifted through more photos, all of him and the family in the “golden” years, that time before life had turned upside down.
Footsteps neared. “Wow. Is that you?” Jordan lifted a picture from the table to study it closely. “You were so cute,” she teased. “What happened?”
He shrugged and started stuffing the old photos back into the box. “Good question.” After a moment of silence, he glanced up and saw her watching him.
She handed him back the photo, her gaze soft. “I was just kidding.”
“I know.” He stuffed it back in and closed the box. “Put this with the throwaways.”
“Do you think Reid might want some?”
Cash glowered. “Who the hell knows?” Though the plan had been to go through everything and give Reid a chance to look through some things, Cash didn’t want to remind Reid of a time that had never been real, or of Cash’s youth, back when he’d first shown signs of being such a fuckup.
I’ve grown since then, done a few good things with my life. Hell, I even saved a few guys from enemy fire.
The thought of having done some good meant shit because here, in this house, he was nothing but a loser who hadn’t amounted to anything.
“I’ll take care of this,” he said to Jordan, unable to face her, sure she’d see the truth he always tried so desperately to hide.
He grabbed the box and stacked it in the disposable section.
He didn’t know what to say to her. How to feel. Because it made no sense to be feeling depression and grief for a family that had never really existed, for a boy who’d been nothing but worthless his whole life. Shake it off, man. Let it go, he could hear Reid telling him. They’re gone.
Almost three decades had passed since that stupid picture had been taken, and Cash knew better than to expect happy thoughts from this hellhole.
He cleared his throat and announced, “We’re almost done, Jordan. Let’s wrap up soon.” Reid should be here doing this with me, damn it. Then he went back to the bathroom to clear out the cabinets and cupboards.
It was as he was cleaning out the linen closet that he found himself suddenly unable to process it all. Tucked between some dusty towels on the highest shelf in the closet, a small ceramic lion with uneven legs, a too-large brown mane, and googly eyes stared up at him.
A project he’d been assigned to make in elementary school. Silly Cash had thought to make his mother something special for Mother’s Day. But when he’d given it to her, she’d pushed it aside to make room for the new radio his father had purchased. His father had tossed the lion, breaking off its tail.
Cash stared at the thing, confused, because he could have sworn Angela had dumped it in the trash. Instead, the lion and its raggedy, glued-on tail sat protected. And next to it, the elephant Reid had made for her two years later.
He sat in the hallway, staring at the things, wanting to throw them against the wall and watch them shatter. Wanting to know why. Why had everything changed so suddenly?
He felt Jordan’s hand on his shoulder, but he couldn’t speak. His eyes felt dry, his throat scratchy. Yet he was frozen, so unworthy and so unlovable.
So why had Angela kept his lion?
* * *
Jordan felt for Cash. She kept piecing things together from what he’d told her and what she’d witnessed in this house.
How awful to have parents who hated you or, worse, who didn’t care.
Granted, she knew her family clearly favored those who gave them no trouble—namely, Leanne. Yet she couldn’t fault them completely; Jordan had tried her best to earn their displeasure. Still, that her parents favored Leanne wasn’t fair. Should she ever have children, she’d love them all unconditionally, equally. Like Rafi, who merited a second and third chance. He was her brother—family.
Watching Cash stare at creations only a child could have made, looking so lost and hurt, pained her deep inside.
She sat next to him, saying nothing, wanting just to be there for him. They sat in silence for some time until she carefully took the ceramic figure from him and placed it in the box he’d wanted to get rid of, the one she’d tucked away so Reid and Cash might have something from their childhood to remember.
Yeah, it wasn’t her place to interfere, but screw it. Cash deserved some decent memories.
She returned to see him lying in the hallway, staring up at the ceiling. His big body took up a lot of room, and she had to carefully ease around him.
“I hate popcorn ceilings,” he said in the sudden stillness. “They really date a house, you know?”
Shocked he’d even know what a popcorn ceiling was, she sat perpendicular to him, her back propped against the wall. Then she made a bold move and lifted his head to rest in her lap.
He didn’t resist her, but he did tense. “What are you doing?”
“Shut up.” She didn’t look down, instead stared at the walls, studying some fugly wallpaper as she stroked his hair. “I hate lime green.”
That startled a chuckle out of him. “Me too. I used to stare at that nasty wallpaper for hours when they sat me in the corner. Fucking lime-green vines and ass-pink roses.”
She blinked. “Ass-pink, huh?”
“Well, I had a few other words for it, but ass is the nicest one I could come up with in mixed company.”
She chuckled and continued to stroke his hair, taken with the softness on a man with such an unbending will. She heard him sigh and, out of her periphery, saw him close his eyes. Touching him felt right, as did the notion she’d brought him some comfort in a place made up of painful memories.
She couldn’t have said how much time had passed, but he shifted beneath her. She glanced down, saw him staring at her, and stared back.
“Why did you do that?” he asked, only the sound of a clock’s ticking heard between them. As if they both held their breaths, anticipating her answer.
“Because I can?” A stupid answer, but it was light enough that Cash didn’t bolt. He smiled.
So damn pretty was all she could think. Then she leaned down and kissed him with a tenderness that surprised them both. She drew back and caressed his hair one final time. “Time for me to go.”
He nodded, lifted his hand to her cheek, and stroked her with a callused finger. “Yep. Time to go.”
By mutual agreement, neither spoke about what had happened. Cash locked up behind him and headed to his car, blocked by hers in the drive. He leaned against the driver’s-side door. “So, your brother?”
She nodded, not wanting to deal with Rafi but needing to stop ignoring the situation. “Can you come over tomorrow night? We’ll do a mini-intervention. Fair warning though. He’s a smartass and won’t appreciate your time.”
He snorted. “Like his sister.”
“Hey.”
But Cash ignor
ed her pique. “No problem. I remember being an asshole when I was younger.”
“Remember being one?” she said, not quite under her breath.
“Be nice or I won’t give you the leftover donuts.” He held out the box and didn’t appear surprised when she darted close to nab it.
Before she could go, he grabbed her by the shoulder. Then he shocked her by kissing her on the forehead. “Thanks, Jordan.”
She blushed. “Um, sure. But consider yourself repaid. Between these donuts and Rafi, we’ll be even.”
“Nah. I figure I’ll still owe you.”
She couldn’t read the look he shot her, but the warmth in his gaze was impossible to miss.
Flustered and not sure why, she hurried into her car and left. “Must stop thinking about that man. He’s just a friend. Nothing more.”
So why then could she still feel his soft hair under her fingers? And why was she reliving that kiss over and over, feeling his lips against hers as if he’d just touched her?
* * *
“For the last time, I’m not telling you about Saturday morning. Yeah, you’ll just have to imagine it.” Jordan glared at the guys during lunch. A major move Monday morning had five of them working together. They only had two days to get everything packed and shifted to the big truck for a four-bedroom house. But the owners were also hurrying to help, so they might just make it before the Fourth of July.
Outside, dining on top of the hood of Lafayette’s old truck, Heidi, Jordan, Lafayette, Finley, and Cash hurried to eat.
“It was a mind-opening experience,” Heidi offered, her voice soft and, to Jordan’s ear, amused.
“I can’t believe you went back for more,” Jordan muttered.
Cash remained silent, but the wide grin he wore said what words didn’t.
Heidi tilted her head as if in thought. “I found it…instructional.”
The guys laughed. “You’re cruel for holding out on us, Jordan.” Finley wiped an imaginary tear. “I can only imagine you and Miriam and the other ladies getting…instruction.”
“And Miriam wanted me to provide inspiration,” Cash had to add. “Can you imagine how awestruck Jordan would have been to have seen me inspiring the crowd?”
Finley perked up. “I wonder if she’s still looking for help.”
Jordan and Heidi shared a grimace, and Heidi said, “Ah, no thanks.”
Finley shook his head. “Oh, not for you, Heidi. We know you dig chicks. I mean for poor, sad little women like Jordan who have no life and might not remember what the male form looks like.”
Lafayette grinned. “You know, Finley, I bet there’s a male empowerment class we could get you into. I’d be willing to take it. You know, in this light, you look a little like my cutie, Simon.”
Finley turned bright red, and Jordan laughed and bumped fists with Lafayette.
Finley raised a brow. “You think I won’t do it?”
“Oh God. I can’t handle the thought,” Heidi groaned.
“Me neither,” Jordan agreed but winked at Finley to salve his ego.
Cash saw and raised a brow, but she ignored him.
“Come, let’s finish. I have a race to train for,” Heidi reminded them. Meaning she would be off for most of the next month while she geared up for a summer marathon she intended to win. “We have Wednesday off and two more moves scheduled for you guys for Thursday without me to help.”
“Good point.” Cash nodded. “We only have Heidi today and tomorrow. Let’s get this house done.”
The group broke up and headed back inside.
Cash always acted like a seamless addition to the team. Jordan watched him when he wasn’t aware, noticing how he fit in. He pulled his own weight, joked with the guys, and kept gossiping with Heidi about wacky housewives and reality TV.
As much as he’d hated all the drama his mother had indulged herself in, he didn’t seem to see the irony of his own interests. She had no intention of mentioning the comparison, but she wondered about his passion for chaos.
He seemed like an orderly type of guy. His handwriting was always legible and tidy. He kept his spaces at work neat, his locker too. She had no idea what it would be like at his home though. Thoughts like that had her heart racing, wondering if he kept his bed tidy and made. Or messed because he’d gotten some exercise between the sheets…
Someone cleared his throat by her, and she jumped, bobbling a box of linens.
“Easy, Scrappy Doo. It’s just me.”
She blinked at the sexy bane of her existence. “Excuse me? Scrappy Doo? More like Daphne, I’d say.” She looked him over. “I’d peg you as Scooby Dum.”
“Huh. I thought for sure you’d make me Old Man Smithers or something.”
“More like Miner49er.” She grinned, bemused that Cash knew about Scooby Doo of all things. She’d loved the canine detective and his friends as a kid, a passion that had never waned. Sometimes when her brother wasn’t around, she secretly streamed the old animated episodes, getting a kick out of them, especially as an adult.
“Hey, you two, quit flirting. We have work to do,” Lafayette reminded them as he passed by, carrying two boxes.
“No one’s flirting, Romeo,” Jordan hit back. In a low murmur to Cash, she said, “Quit flirting. I’m busy.”
“Please. You want me. It’s a curse being this fine.”
She tried to hide a smile. “Whatever.” She whispered, “Seven o’clock tonight. My place—for Rafi.”
He lost his smile and nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there.” He paused. “You cooking?”
“Yes. Now shut up and get back to work.”
He moved back and in a loud voice said, “Yes, boss. No need to crack the whip on me.”
Finley snickered and made whip-cracking sounds. Which got everyone talking about who was really in charge of the team.
“I’m not getting any younger,” Heidi informed the team. “Hurry up. I have ten miles to run later today.”
Today, they all agreed.
Heidi was in charge.
* * *
Cash felt nervous as he approached Jordan’s door later that night. He had no idea why. It wasn’t a date. He hadn’t needed to go home and shower and change before meeting at her place for dinner. Bringing her a box of the chocolates he’d overheard her mention to Heidi was probably a stupid move too. But he figured she could use the boost.
No one knew better than Cash how family could cause you to lose it.
Reid, big surprise, was once again spending the night with Naomi. It didn’t bother Cash as much tonight though, because he had other plans. Like helping his friend and coworker handle a family problem.
He knocked and waited.
And knocked again.
“Hold on,” a young male snarled from behind the door.
He heard arguing between the male and Jordan. Then the door opened and a male version of Jordan gaped up at him.
“Shit. Bigfoot has arrived.”
“Rafi,” Jordan admonished from behind him. “Be nice. Hi, Cash. Rafi, this is my friend from work, Cash Griffith. Cash, come on in. This is Rafi, my brother.”
Cash stepped inside, handed off the chocolates to Jordan, and stared down at an almost pretty young man. Thick lashes covered dark-brown eyes that snapped with impatience. Rafi stood a few inches taller than Jordan but a head less than Cash. Whip-lean and strong, no doubt from carrying around so much attitude.
“Yo.” He nodded to the kid.
“Hey.” Rafi gave him a wary nod.
Jordan tugged Cash further into her apartment. “Thanks for the chocolates.” She shoved Rafi out of the way since he hadn’t budged, staring at Cash.
“Nice, Jordan,” Rafi sneered.
“Move next time, knucklehead.” She crossed her eyes at Cash, who grinned. “Kid is fifteen going
on forty. Want something to drink?”
“Shouldn’t we be sober for an intervention?”
The kid stared back and forth between them. At the word intervention, he’d stiffened. “What’s he talking about?”
Cash had thought about how to handle the situation, wondering how he’d have responded to some random guy when he’d been fifteen.
Jordan glared at Cash, and he shrugged. “Hey, I’m not your guy for subtlety. I’m a straight shooter.” He ignored her mutterings. “Rafi, I—”
“It’s actually Rafael,” the boy said, stiffly.
“Rafael,” Cash emphasized, “your sister tells me you need help. It’s pass summer school or you go to some shitty military academy. And your attitude ain’t helping.”
“Please. What does some ex-military asshole like you have to say to help me? Be all you can be?”
Cash wanted to laugh at that, but Jordan’s tight-lipped expression told him not to.
“Nah. That’s Army, kid. You don’t want to go there.”
Rafael blinked. “No?”
Jordan placed her hands on her hips. “Why not? What’s wrong with the Army?”
“Please. What’s not wrong with the Army?”
She gasped. “You’re such an asshole.”
Rafael looked from her to Cash and let himself grin. “You know, I think this guy’s not so bad after all.”
“Buddy, I was Marine Corps. All the way. It’s a great institution, well, minus the shitheads and politically correct bullshit everyone’s peddling nowadays.”
Rafael just stared at him, so Cash moved deeper into the living room and took a seat on the couch. His casual attitude had Rafael following him while Jordan shot daggers his way.