by Skyla Madi
“So this will be an ongoing thing?” I ask. “You’re going to see them as regularly as you can.”
“I think so. I made a lot of progress last night. They make me feel different, like I was before. Wade is…” She scratches her nose. “I know why they love him. He’s kind and considerate and intense. He’s not without his own demons, that’s for sure, but he loves the girls deeply and takes care of them.” Flicking her stare from the road to my face, she adds, “He saved their lives, did you know that? When he was in the Australian army, he saved them from human traffickers.”
I balk. “Bullshit.”
“What’s bullshit?”
“Does Australia even have an army?” I wonder aloud.
“Yes, Cassia. Australia has an army. What kind of question is that?” She flicks her attention between me and the road again. “I tell you your neighbor saved two women from being trafficked by gross criminals and your only question is whether or not Australia has an army?”
I shrug, nervousness flipping my tummy as we approach the airport. “I don’t believe you.”
“About Australia having an army?”
“About Wade and his girlfriends,” I clarify.
“I’m serious.” Fiona flicks on her indicator and merges into the airport’s entrance. “I don’t know the specifics, but they’ve been through more shit than I could ever handle. He even has a gunshot wound on his stomach.”
“Really?”
She nods. “I swear to you.”
“I had no idea.” I wonder if Caleb knows… I reach for Fiona’s gum in the center console and pop two tiny rectangles into my mouth. “I just thought they were a bunch of kinky weirdos Caleb lived with.”
“They are.” She laughs loudly, taking her foot off the gas as we come up on slight traffic build up. “But what they have goes so much deeper than that.”
Turning my head, I smile at her. There’s a twinkle in her eyes I haven’t seen in a long time. Even her laughs sound genuine and not forced. When we moved to New York, I put everything I had into healing her, into giving her back what she lost, but the harder I tried, the deeper into herself she fell. I tried not to take it to heart. Her pain was often directed at me, but I had to remember it wasn’t about me, so I gave her space when she needed it and I was patient with her. When she wanted to leave New York, I didn’t fight her. I wanted to beg and scream for her to stay, to not leave me alone with Nick in such a big city, but I didn’t. I let her go because I knew she was the only one who could heal herself, who could recapture what she lost. To this day, I don’t know how people like Caleb and Fiona, people who carry so much trauma with them, function daily.
I couldn’t.
“Can we take a minute to discuss Nick, please?” Fiona asks, turning down the volume dial on the stereo even though no music is playing.
I groan. “If we have to.”
“Why didn’t you tell me how miserable you both are?” she demands, slapping a hand against her wheel. “How long has it been like this between you two?”
I look out the window, thinking back over the year. It wasn’t the worst experience of my life and, for the most part, it’s been pleasant. “Not long. I mean, we’ve argued a lot over the span of our relationship, but it’s only recently started getting out of control. Maybe he could feel me pulling away? I don’t know.”
“What did you argue about? Money? Space?”
I stuff my hands into my hoodie pocket. “We argued about pointless shit—and sex, mostly.”
“You two haven’t—”
I shake my head as Fiona pulls into the drop off lane. “No. I told you that.”
“I thought you were being modest.”
“No. It’s easy with Caleb. I take one look at him and I want it. I don’t care how or where; I just need him. It’s the opposite with Nick. It never felt right, and the thought alone made me feel…I don’t want to say nauseous, but yeah. Nauseous.” I unclick my seatbelt and shove the belt to the side as it retracts. “I don’t know why he dragged the relationship on for so long. He swatted every attempt I made to return things back to the way they were before we started dating. He wanted to continue, despite my protests, despite our sexless predicament.”
Turning in her seat, Fiona snatches my hand and holds it between hers. Ahead of us, a man in a fluorescent vest waves for us to hurry up. “I want you to know I had no idea before last night, and although Nick is my friend, and I’ve known him since I was fifteen, you are my best friend—my sister.” She stops to rake her teeth over her lower lip, then rushes her sentence out. “He slept with other women.”
I raise my eyebrows, my lungs shrink, and I rip off my sunglasses. “What?”
“Yep. He admitted it to my face after you left last night.”
That gross scumbag! I’m not hurt at all by Nick’s acts, but I’m pissed I didn’t know sooner. I could’ve used it as ammo. What an asshole. How dare he act all high and mighty after stooping so low? It’s no wonder he became paranoid about Caleb. He was projecting his own guilt because he’d fucked other people.
“That’s fucked up,” I utter, looking out the windscreen, through the traffic control guy.
“He claims it didn’t mean anything, that he only wants you, but being patient has been hard for him.” Fiona grimaces. “Men are pigs, but you know what? I’ve never seen him act the way he did last night, Cassia. Ever. You dodged a bullet.”
I laugh once. I’m not hurt by the news, but Lord, my pride is aching right now. Regardless of how strained our relationship is, it doesn’t feel good to be cheated on. I emotionally cheated on Nick and he physically cheated on me. I’m having a hard time deciding which is worse. Fiona did say women, though. That makes what he did so much worse than what I did.
“Is Caleb—”
“Ugh.” His gorgeous face blows to the forefront of my mind, and I’m reminded of a particular Sunday morning in church. He’s mesmerizingly perfect in a boyish way with smooth skin, pink, kissable lips, and dark, beautiful, clear green eyes. His hair, blond and unkempt, brushes over his forehead and my fingers twitch with the urge to flick it away. Caleb. That’s what Father Andrews called him. I drop my head back against the rest and look out the window at the throng of people who scurry about, toting luggage. “I love him.”
Fiona releases my hand. “I know you do.”
“I really love him.” I roll my head in her direction and stuff my sunglasses into my hoodie pocket. “He’s so…” I try to think of something to say. A million words bombard my brain—unique, fun, kind, intense, goddamn passionate—but I can’t seem to articulate a damn thing. “He’s so…so…you know?”
“Sarcastic?” she deadpans, and I chuckle.
“Yes.”
“Brash?”
My heart swells. “That too.”
“Inappropriate? Reckless? Vulgar? Broody? Fucking chaotic? Honestly, I could go all day, but then you’d miss your flight.” She pulls the emergency brake, and I reach for the door handle.
“I’m happy you came…” I tell her, and she leans in for a hug. I happily give it. “I’m referring to your visit to see me. Not the orgy you had with my neighbors last—”
Scoffing and laughing, she pushes me away with a palm in my face. “Get out!”
*Caleb*
Exhaling, I sit in the plastic seat and lean back to wait for my flight to be called over the speakers. I hate I’m catching it alone, but at least I’ll have an empty space beside me the whole way. Shuffling my ass forward, I lean back on the uncomfortable chair, pull my gray cap off my head, and cover my face with it, hoping to catch a few minutes sleep since I didn’t get much of it last night. Between sex, my anxiety running rampant, and the noises coming from Wade’s room, there wasn’t any room for it. Cassia, however, slept like a log the second she got the chance. She always does.
I close my eyes and try to zone out the sounds of rolling suitcase wheels, ringing cellphones, the constant drone of conversation, and the occasional disagreement
s with airport staff. In Phoenix, it’s not hard to drown the sounds out. In New York? Good-fucking-luck.
I startle as my hat is whipped off and a soft mouth crashes to mine. My eyes fly open, and I go rigid. A familiar smell wafts over me as long hair curtains around my head. What the hell? I cup the woman’s face and ease her away from my mouth.
The further her face gets from mine, the more focused it becomes. Perfectly manicured eyebrows, excited ocean-blue irises, a cute button nose, and pink pouty lips. I blink. Did I fall asleep? No. She’s too vivid. Too real. Her blonde and pink hair spills through my fingers, tickling the skin on my hands and arms. My girl. “Cassia?”
“Hi.” She smiles, exposing her perfect, straight, white teeth.
“Hi,” I say back, unable to bring myself to loosen my hold on her pretty face. “What’re you doing here?”
Hope builds in my chest, and I feel my body lighting with excitement, like a kid in a candy store. Somehow, I manage to rein it in. Cassia touches her slender hands to mine, and my fingers twitch under her freezing skin.
“I’m coming with you.”
I launch forward, swallowing the distance between us, and kiss her until I’m sure everyone in the room is uncomfortable, and the old woman a few seats down from me curses and moves away. Suddenly, this trip isn’t so suffocating. The pain in my ribs ease off, and the unrest in my turbulent stomach ceases.
Breaking the kiss, I keep my hold on her face. “What about your job?”
Her eyes darken a shade, her jaw flexing under my palm. “I was fired this morning.”
I lift an eyebrow, confused. She was asleep when I left her. “How do you get fired while sleeping?”
“The danger of working for your ex’s cousin, I suppose.”
I bristle and release her face as anger twists my veins. “Are you kidding me?”
“Afraid not.” She moves to sit into the seat beside me and takes my hand. She smiles widely at me and it’s genuine, but there’s a glimmer of disappointment in her gaze too. “But it worked out. Now I can go to Paradise Valley with you.”
Taking her other hand, I tuck them inside my hoodie and close my hands over the top to warm her up.
“We’ll figure it out,” I say. “When we get back to New York, we can find us a new place and then job search. It’ll be fine.”
“Us?” She tilts her head. “What about Wade? You can’t move out and dump your half of the rent on his shoulders.”
“I don’t pay rent.”
Cassia frowns. “What do you mean?”
“Wade won’t let me pay a cent toward any of it. He covers it all, heat and electricity too.”
I’ve tried to pay Wade. Hell, I’ve tried paying my portion directly to the landlord, the bank too, but it always ends up back in my hands. I still put it to the side, just in case, and there’s a hefty sum in there, enough to support both Cassia and me. If my paintings keep selling at the rate they’re selling, we’ll get by just fine.
“Why?”
I shrug. “He tells me he has a penchant for troubled souls. Whatever the hell that means.”
“He takes care of Lara and Lauren too. How’s he so loaded?”
I push my ass to the back of the chair and relax. “Wade was in the army for a little while but had to leave due to injury. When he got back to Melbourne, he went to work for his crazy rich business tycoon father and ran a few of his Fortune 500 companies, then retired early.”
I picture Wade in my head, sitting around Caleb’s parties, wearing that stupid onesie. I try to imagine him carrying a rifle or wearing an Armani suit, but it doesn’t…fit. “I don’t see it.”
Caleb laughs. “Neither do I, but it’s true.”
“If he’s so rich, why does he live in a small apartment?”
“He alluded that Lauren doesn’t cope well in the lavish lifestyle Wade grew up in. Plus, he wants to avoid attention.”
Cassia looks at the floor, trying to make sense of it all. Eventually, she exhales and lifts her gaze back to me. Her features smooth out when we make eye contact. “I got your obscene drawing, your note, and the gift card. Thank you.”
I laugh. Drawing the stick figures on the flyer was immature, but too good to pass up. I thought she’d get a kick out of it.
“You’re welcome.” I stroke my thumb over her hand. “I figured if you’re going to get free coffee, then it’s because of me.”
She arches a brow and bites back a smile. “How do you know I get free coffee?”
“Because I’ve seen the cute back and forth you two do.”
“Are you jealous of Robert? The barista?” she asks, leaning closer to pepper kisses along my jaw.
“No,” I say, but it’s hardly convincing. “He’s old as fuck and he’s a brunette. It doesn’t work.”
Cassia lifts a shoulder and simpers. I feel it against my skin. “I like brunettes.”
Bullshit. I cut my eyes at her, our noses almost grazing. “Take that back.”
She rakes her teeth over her lower lip, making me want to bite it myself. “I love brunettes. They’re so dark and mysterious.”
I lean back to see her whole face, my expression challenging her to say more, all while keeping my pride in check. There’s a shimmer in her eyes, a playful sliver that tells me she’s joking, but still…fucking brunettes? I don’t think so.
“I love a blond more, though.” Pulling her hands from my hoodie pocket, she pushes her long, slender fingers through my hair and squeezes gently. “A dirty, dirty blond, to be more specific.”
Our lips brush, my blood burns, and I inch forward to seal the kiss, but her phone rings. Loudly. Grinning, Cassia takes her hand out of my hair and puts my cap back on my head. Turning away, she reaches out for a pink suitcase, much too big for a trip to Arizona, and opens the handbag that sits on the top. Plucking her phone out, she stands up and answers it.
I watch her as she paces back and forth in her sexy, comfortable outfit, laughing as she speaks to Fiona, if I heard correctly. As I watch her, pride surges inside me. When I left Paradise Valley, I didn’t know what was going to happen between Cassia and me, but I was going to try my damn hardest to win her back. I knew she’s shun me, that she’d do anything to bury whatever was between us. The old me would’ve let her too. He would’ve left her to her life and punished himself for fucking everything up and hid behind his wall of pain and trauma.
That’s not me anymore.
I’ve tasted happiness, felt it come alive in my blood. It’s too potent, too addictive to swallow deep and forget. So, with Agnes, Bree, and Penelope’s help, I chased it. I chased what made me happy, and I held myself accountable for the promises I made.
All of them…
…except the three-part promise I made to Agnes.
Paradise Valley
Fourteen months ago
“Aggy?” I shout, slapping my hands along the front hall of her little home.
All the retirement village houses in this block are tiny, but Agnes’s is especially small. She doesn’t mind it, though, even considers herself lucky since she doesn’t have to walk far to the toilet in the middle of the night.
“What in the world?” I hear her exclaim from the dining room. “Caleb? Don’t come in here making a racket, boy, and you better’ve taken off your shoes before stepping on my carpet.”
I glance down at my clean, white socks as I exit the hall and step into the open layout of her living, dining, and kitchen areas. She’s a minimalist, Agnes. Besides the necessities, she doesn’t own much and likes it that way. I smile at Agnes as she sits at her small, round dining table, a stack of romance novels in front of her. Ah, today is library day. Her favorite.
“I always take my shoes off,” I point out as I approach.
“Do you? Then who left a shoe print by my bathroom?”
I shrug. “Ask the nursing staff. They never listen to your house rules.”
I hug her.
“Good morning, love,” she says, kissing my cheek.
“How are you?”
“Good.” I drop into the seat next to her. “Have you been behaving yourself?”
Agnes’s thin, textured lips quirk. “The building is still standing, isn’t it?”
I laugh. Over the past few months, I’ve really made an effort to see Agnes on a regular basis—even more so now I’ve lost my job. Words can’t describe the way she lights up when I arrive or her obvious pride whenever her friends ask her about me. They think I’m her grandson, and she never corrects them. Besides me, her niece, Bree, is the only other person who visits her. The rest of her immediate family have passed away, and she doesn’t have any children. Sometimes, I worry I’m not enough to keep her loneliness at bay.
I arch an eyebrow at her reading selection. On one of the spines, an almost naked man holds a busty, semi-naked woman, the both of them draped in flowing white sheets after an obvious fuck session.
“You’re getting adventurous with your reading material, I see. Do I need to find you a man, Aggy? There’s plenty of good-looking guys around here.” I point over my shoulder. “I saw Philip watering his sunflowers with his shirt off. He doesn’t have abs, but he knows how to handle his hose—”
“For goodness sake.” She swats me away, grimacing and complaining. “Don’t be vulgar!”
I splay my palms in surrender. “All right, all right! I’m just trying to help.”
“I have a man—God—and He is all I need, thank you very much.” She points a skinny, crooked finger at me. “You’d have a man too, if only you showed up on Sundays.”
I chuckle. “I don’t need a man, Agnes.”
I don’t need God, either. I need a woman—one woman—and I need her badly. Cassia is all I see when I close my eyes. Sometimes full clothed. Mostly…not. My wild imagination is wearing me thin.
“You need Jesus. Everyone needs Jesus.”