by Kelli Warner
“You’re the best babysitter ever,” she whispers.
I smile and pull back. “Good night, Lily. Sweet dreams.”
By ten o’clock, Tanner heads toward the stairs with his guitar and the new sheet music Cade brought for him.
“Hey,” I call. “I thought we were gonna watch the ball drop.”
“I’ll come back down later. I want to work on this song,” he calls over his shoulder.
“Okay. I’ll give you a shout when it gets closer to midnight.”
We settle onto the couch, and Cade slips an arm around my shoulder. “Thank you so much for doing that,” I say. “I’ve never seen Tanner so energized about playing his guitar. The last time I got him to play for me, he was so frustrated, he threw a music book across the room.”
“He’s a cool kid,” Cade says. “Although he sure was desperate for me to tell him if playing the guitar will make him a chick magnet. I think he asked me that question at least four times.”
I clear my throat and confess, “I might have told him that girls like guys who play in bands.”
“Well, that explains it, then.” Cade fingers a strand of my hair, and my cheeks warm.
“How long have you been playing?” I ask.
“About eight years.”
“Do you play any other instruments?” He gazes past me and jerks his chin toward the baby grand piano in the corner. I stand, taking his hand and leading him to the piano. He slides in next to me on the upholstered bench. With a quick wink in my direction, he places his long fingers on the keys, and they move over the ivory as fluidly as they take to the strings on his guitar. Soft, harmonious sounds float up from the piano as he plays a song I don’t recognize. When he finishes, he turns and flashes me a smile.
“I’m no Bach, but I can hold my own.”
“Where did you learn to play?”
Cade drops his hands into his lap, and his gaze rests on the keys. “My mom taught me.”
“I’m sorry; I didn’t know.”
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. She was a great teacher. I don’t play much anymore, but when I do, I think about her.” His eyes lock with mine, and they sparkle like broken glass, reflecting the sharp remnants of loss. “What about you? Do you play?”
I quickly shake my head. “Oh, no. Not unless playing ‘Chopsticks’ counts. That’s the only piano playing these fingers can do.”
Cade takes my hand in his and he raises it to his lips, kissing my fingertips and subsequently snatching the breath from the back of my throat.
“What time will your dad be home?” he whispers in my ear.
I clear my throat. “Jay and Connie don’t get out alone much. They won’t be home until after midnight.”
Cade raises a questioning eyebrow. “How come you don’t call him your dad?” he asks. “I mean, you have no trouble calling Tanner and Lily your brother and sister. That doesn’t make a lot of sense. Isn’t it kind of the same thing?”
It isn’t the same thing at all. And what confuses Cade makes perfect sense to me. It’s one of the few pieces of my life that actually does fall into some recognizable pattern that my brain understands. “Because Tanner and Lily don’t expect anything from me,” I say. “Their titles are harmless. There are no expectations with having a brother and a sister.”
“But having a dad—that comes with expectations?” Cade asks. He’s trying to figure me out. “Am I being stupid for not getting this?”
“No, of course not,” I say. I stare at the family portrait framed on the wall above the fireplace. It was taken a couple of weeks after I arrived in Mystic. Connie had insisted on it and made the arrangements. She even had the photo professionally framed. I study each of the five faces in the photograph. Which one of these doesn’t belong?
“Finding out I suddenly had a father, and trying to figure out exactly how that’s supposed to work, is a lot to handle. I’ve had so much to deal with over the past three months. I’m just not there yet, I guess.”
He nods. “And how are you doing dealing with everything else?”
“I wish I could say it’s getting better, but honestly, I’m not sure it ever will.”
“It will. Trust me,” Cade says, playing a series of soft notes, then stopping abruptly. “It just won’t happen as fast as everyone around you wants it to. I think that was the hardest part of losing my mom. Everyone wanted to help me through it, but they didn’t get it. It takes time. Years. Maybe forever, I don’t know. I don’t think I’m really there yet. And sometimes, when people think they’re helping, they’re not.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, when people offer you words of comfort that aren’t the least bit comforting? Like—when I was at my mom’s funeral, and my uncle put his arm around me and told me that I should be happy that my mom is in a better place.” Cade’s voice tenses at the memory. “She’s in a better place? What the hell was I supposed to do with that? She was in a perfectly fine place with me when she was alive.”
I squeeze his hand, and he releases a deep breath, tipping back his head to stare at the ceiling. “I know now that he was just trying to comfort me in the best way he knew how, but—at that moment, and for a long time afterward—I was so angry at him for saying that to me. I get that it wasn’t intentional, but those words made me feel small, like my grief was something I would get over and move past.”
I nod as a tightening in my chest begins to grow. “Yeah, I’ve had my fair share of that. If one more person tells me that everything happens for a reason, I might lose it,” I say. “I mean, what reason could there possibly be for a drunk driver taking my mom’s life? I feel so helpless when people say that to me. There’s nothing I can do with a comment like that. It’s useless.”
He raises our entwined hands and places another soft kiss on my knuckles. I move my free hand to his arm, sliding a finger down his biceps to the edge of his T-shirt sleeve, where just a fragment of black ink is visible on his inner arm. “What does your tattoo say?”
Without a word, Cade draws back his sleeve to reveal three words: Live Every Day.
“These are the only words that matter,” he says. “Forget what others say. What’s important is what you say to yourself. But you have to be louder than the rest of them.”
I stare at each letter, tracing them with my fingertip, my voice lost somewhere deep inside me. I lean in, wrap a hand around Cade’s neck and pull him toward me. I kiss him. Oh boy, do I kiss him—softly at first, but then something powerful shoves the docile me aside and consumes what’s left. The fierceness of our connection grows until both my arms are wrapped tightly around his neck. His warm, gentle lips are so soft and willing against mine. His arm tightens around my waist, and with that one movement, I feel secure and wanted. Cade sees me in a way that most people don’t, like there’s more to me on the inside, and even though it’s buried deep, under a mountain of crazy at times, he’s willing to make an effort to search it out. And for some unexplainable reason, the openly flawed, emotionally wrecked, baggage-laden me doesn’t scare him one little bit. He should get some kind of a medal for that.
I breathe in the scent of him, a hint of soap mixed with whatever he put on after his shower, and I want to drown myself in it. After watching him earlier tonight with Tanner, so patient and attentive, I like him even more. He gave up his New Year’s Eve to help a thirteen-year-old kid learn to play the guitar. Who does that? There are so many better ways he could have spent his evening. I stroke his cheek with my fingertips. He’s a good guy. A good and honest guy—and he wants to be with me. If this is a dream, I never want to wake up.
“What the hell is this?”
I fly off the piano bench so fast, I would have knocked it over if Cade hadn’t been there weighing it down.
Jay stands frozen in the entrance to the living room, his cheeks a light crimson and his eyes narrowed accusingly on us. Connie stands right beside him, her eyes wide with surprise.
“Damn.” Cade exhales
under his breath. The legs of the heavy wooden bench scrape against the hardwood floor as he slowly stands, the hard lines of his face shutting out all the gentleness that was there just seconds ago.
Damn is right. This is not going to be good. Not by a long shot.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Cade
I should have been prepared for this, but I honestly didn’t see it coming.
“What are—what are you doing here? I thought you were going dancing,” Paige sputters.
“Connie wasn’t feeling well, so we came home.” Mr. Chapman’s voice is nearly a growl, and his icy gaze is cemented on me. “What the hell is going on here?” His wife grabs his arm.
“I’m outta here,” I say.
“No!” Mr. Chapman points an accusatory finger at me. “You stay right there until someone gives me an explanation.”
“It’s no big deal,” Paige says. “I asked Cade to come over tonight.”
“Jay,” Mrs. Chapman warns, tightening her grip on his arm. “Calm down.”
“Paige, I made it perfectly clear that I didn’t want you hanging out with him. And now I come home to find you sneaking around? In my home?! Where are the kids?”
“They’re upstairs. And we’re not sneaking!” Paige protests. “Cade came here tonight because—”
He cuts her off with an outstretched palm. “Save it. You were supposed to watch Tanner and Lily, not—”
“Not what?” she demands, her cheeks reddening, and I want to say something to defend her, but I don’t.
Mr. Chapman shakes his arm free from his wife’s grasp and steps into the living room, his fists planted on his hips. “How could you defy me like this?” he demands of Paige while pointing his finger at me. “I told you, he’s trouble.”
Paige’s mouth gapes in horror as my fingers clench into fists. There’s so much I want to say right now, but there’s no point in it. I will never get a fair trial in front of this man. Instead, I step past Paige, grab my jacket off the back of the couch and sling my guitar case over my shoulder in one swift movement. I glance back at Paige, but the wave of disappointment shooting through every nerve ending in my body prevents me from forming even a single word. All I can do is shake my head in defeat.
Paige lunges forward, clasping my wrist in her trembling fingers. “Please, don’t go. Cade, please,” she begs. “I know I messed this up. Please, just—explain!”
I twist free from her grasp. “It’s pretty clear what’s happening here. I don’t have anything to say.” And I don’t. I just want to get the hell out of this house. Now.
“Cade!” Paige calls after me, but I’m out the door and down the front walk without another glance behind me. What did I think was going to happen? That Mr. Chapman would accept me? Welcome me into his family with open arms? I’m an idiot.
“Cade, wait!” Paige calls from the door, and she races after me, catching my elbow just as I reach the sidewalk in front of the house.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry I didn’t tell him about us. I know I promised you I would, but I didn’t and—I’m sorry!” Her glossy eyes are wide and panic marinates her words.
“Who does he think you’ve been hanging out with the last two months?” I demand. Her lips part and her gaze drops. “Why didn’t you tell him about me?”
“Because,” she says frantically, “I was afraid Jay would stop me from seeing you, and I couldn’t do that. I just couldn’t. You are so important to me. Please, Cade, you have to know that. I can’t lose you, too.”
“If I were that important, you would have said something to him. The only thing I ever asked you to do was to stand up for me. But you didn’t. Dammit, Paige, I’ve had enough people in my life lying to me. I didn’t think you’d be one of them.”
“Let’s go back in, right now,” she says, tugging urgently on my arm. My feet remain firmly planted on the concrete. There’s no way I’m stepping foot back in that house.
“I’ll tell Jay what happened. He can’t blame you for this. None of this is your fault. It was me, it was all me!”
“Just forget it.” I turn to go, but her desperate grasp on me tightens, her fingers digging into my flesh. “Please stay! Why won’t you let me talk to him?”
I lean in but stop short, just before our foreheads touch. We’re close enough that I can smell her body spray and yet, at this moment, it feels like we’re miles apart in so many ways. I sigh as frustration and disappointment collide in an elite-caliber wrestling match inside me. With a two-second pin, defeat wins out, and I say, “Because he expects this of me, not you.”
Never have truer words been spoken. After all, I’m the one with the reputation for being irresponsible and defying authority. A total disregard for the rules—that’s my specialty. I will never be welcome in this house. Maybe it’s better if Paige figures that out now.
“Please, let me fix this!” she begs.
I shake my head. “Just let it go. It’s not worth it.”
“Don’t say that,” she whispers, pressing a hand to her stomach as if she’s going to be sick. I want so badly to wrap my arms around her right now, but maybe this is for the best. I mean, who were we fooling? I will never be able to outrun my mistakes. Because there’s always someone there to remind me where I’ve been. If it’s not Mr. Chapman, it’ll be someone else. And I can’t deny that they’re right—Paige shouldn’t get mixed up with me. I’ll only drag her down, and that’s not fair to her. She has enough problems. She shouldn’t be expected to carry mine, too.
I brush my lips against her forehead, lingering for a few seconds just to feel her skin against mine one more time. Even though it kills me to see the agony on her face, the torment glistening in her eyes, I step away from her and head for my bike. I slip on my helmet and kick-start the engine into a snarl, grasping every ounce of willpower I have not to turn back. If I meet her eyes, I’ll break, I’ll give in, and that’s not what she or I need right now. I need to put some distance between us before I say something I’ll regret.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Paige
I’m not sure how long I stand on the curb, staring out into the blackness and praying with everything in my being that Cade will come back. When the sprinkle of raindrops hits my cheeks, I reluctantly head back toward the house. With each step, fresh anger reignites inside me. It percolates until, finally, it explodes, and I slam the door behind me and storm into the living room.
“I hope you’re happy,” I seethe. “Cade’s gone, and he probably wants nothing more to do with me!”
“I don’t think that’s a bad thing,” Jay says, more reserved than he was just a couple of minutes ago. He’s taken off his coat, but Connie still stands in the same spot, wearing hers. She hasn’t even set down her purse.
“Why did you have to be so mean to him?” I demand. “He didn’t do anything to deserve that. He came here tonight to coach Tanner on the guitar.” I fling a hand at the ceiling. “Your son is miserable right now because he thinks he’s awful at it. Cade helped him.”
“I’m going to go check on the kids,” Connie announces, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anyone leave a room so quickly. When she’s gone, I turn my accusatory eyes back on Jay.
“You barely know that boy, Paige.”
“So?”
“That kid has been in a lot of trouble. He spent three months in juvenile detention.”
“When he was fourteen! I know all about it. He told me.”
Jay snorts. “And you honestly think he’s told you the truth? Don’t be so naive. People with something to hide are never what they appear.”
You would know.
“You’re just as bad as everyone else. It’s no wonder the rumors about Cade refuse to die,” I say. “But you don’t know him like I do.”
I’m just getting warmed up, preparing to make Jay feel some kind of remorse for being so awful to Cade, but my perfectly planned monologue dissolves on my lips when he says, “That boy vandalized the school. Did he tel
l you that?”
I stare blankly, my mouth agape.
“I’m guessing by your reaction that that topic of conversation never came up. Can’t say I’m surprised.” Jay’s words are drenched in disdain, and that ticks me off even more.
“And when exactly did this alleged crime take place?” I demand. As far as I know, there’s been no incident at the school. And with the way gossip flies around that place like a witch on a broomstick, I’m pretty sure I would have heard about something that big by now.
“Three years ago,” Jay says. “A group of kids broke into the school through the roof. Cade was with them. They didn’t realize they tripped a silent alarm. By the time the police got there, they’d done nearly ten thousand dollars in damage.”
“You’re lying,” I accuse, shaking my head in an attempt to deflect his words, but I can’t shake the dread curling in my stomach. Cade told me that there were a lot of things in his past he regretted, but he’s never shared any of them in detail, and he certainly never mentioned vandalizing the school. That one I would have remembered.
A new swarm of unanswered questions buzzes wildly through my mind. Is Jay making this whole school thing up? Would he do something like that just to keep Cade and me apart? And if what he’s telling me is true, why didn’t Cade tell me himself? I feel sick, like I’m stuck on the tilt-a-whirl at the fair and there’s no way off.
“I don’t want that boy in this house. And I want you to stay away from him. Do you hear me, Paige? He is no good for you.”
Jay’s words slice deep gashes into my heart, and maybe, under other circumstances, this is where I would fall to the ground and surrender, but my good old pal anger refuses to let me tap out and let Jay win. Instead, I narrow my eyes and take aim. “Cade is not mixed up in any of that anymore. He’s a good student. Check his attendance records, Principal Chapman!” Jay grimaces. “I thought that you, of all people, would be open to second chances, but instead—” I dig deep into my arsenal for something that will wound him. “Instead, you’re treating Cade exactly the same way my grandfather treated you!”