by Kelli Warner
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said when I didn’t respond. “Look at you; you’re so grown up. How tall are you now?”
“Just stop,” I said, holding up my hand. “This isn’t a family reunion. I need some answers.”
He nodded, staring down at his clasped hands on the tabletop. “I know you do. I’m just so happy to see you, Cade. I’ve missed you.”
“I said enough!” I barked and shot out of my chair. The guard in the corner shifted his footing. I took a deep breath and sat back down. “You can’t destroy a family and then expect to pick up the pieces like it’s no big deal. It doesn’t work like that.”
My father closed his eyes and sighed. “You’re right. You have every reason in the world to hate me for what I did.”
“You destroyed me, you selfish asshole!” I spit. “Do you not get that?”
“Cade, please calm down.”
“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down,” I said through gritted teeth. Our gazes locked, my father’s wavering and uncomfortable, mine steely and focused. I wouldn’t let him play the victim. “Are you even sorry for what you did?”
He rubbed his forehead. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Cade.”
I shook my head, my jaw clenched to prevent me from erupting again. “You have a funny way of showing it.”
“I’ve written you dozens of letters. You’d know I was sorry if you’d opened them. But your sister says you haven’t. Son, it’s hard to ask for forgiveness when you won’t give me a chance.”
“Are you serious?” I seethed, astonishment colliding with cold anger. “You have no idea what you did when you decided to crap where you ate.”
“Where in the world did you hear that expression?”
I leaned into the table, anger pulsing in my chest. “I’ll tell you exactly where I heard it. From Mr. Sloane. Right after you were arrested and right before he kicked me out!” My father’s face paled, and his shoulders collapsed, as if I’d just leveled him with a punch to the gut. “I ended up on the streets because I was no longer welcome in his home. Because of you!”
My father ran a hand over his bowed, shaved head and a strangled squeak escaped from his lips as his shoulders shook. When he lifted his eyes, they were filled with tears. “I’m so sorry.” His immediate remorse affected me in a way that I wasn’t prepared for. I didn’t want to see him broken. I wanted to see that all of this was just an act, like I’d convinced myself it was. It’s easier to hate a liar than a man breaking apart from years of regret.
“When your mother died, I—” He shook his head at the memory, and my chest grew tight. “I was lost, Cade. I don’t expect you to understand that, but I didn’t have a clue how to go on without her. She was everything to me, the reason I got out of bed in the morning. When I lost her—I was so wrapped up in my grief, it consumed me. So much so that I didn’t see that you were grieving, too.” Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them back and stared at the ceiling, refusing to engage him.
“For that, I am sorrier than you will ever know. It doesn’t erase what I’ve done. I have to answer for that, and I am, I am doing that, and I will be for a long time. I don’t expect you to forgive me, Cade. I don’t deserve it, and I won’t ask you for it.” He paused, and silence filled the space between us, so heavy that I finally gave in and met his gaze. Pain swirled in his gray eyes. “I know that I failed you on so many levels, and if I could take it all back, I would. All of it. But you and I both know that’s not possible.” He closed his eyes, taking a moment to expel a deep breath. “But what I can do is make sure that I grab every opportunity I can to tell you that, no matter what, I love you. I always have and I always will.”
I look up when Paige shifts in her bed. Clearing my throat, I wipe at my eyes.
“How are you feeling now?” she asks.
“I’m fine.”
“Fine is not a feeling,” she says, then a smile turns up the corners of her mouth. “That’s something Aunt Faye always says to me.”
“I’m all right.”
“Really?”
I nod. “Yeah. One visit doesn’t fix everything, but I feel like maybe I left some of my anger behind in that room. Not all of it, because I’ve been angry at my dad for a long time.”
“Are you going to see him again?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. Maybe. I think I just need to let this first visit sink in, you know? We have a lot more we need to talk about, but this was a start.” She raises her hand and motions for me to come closer, patting the mattress beside her. I lower myself onto the edge of her bed.
“Visiting your dad couldn’t have been easy, but it’s huge that you did it. Things will get better from here.” I lean down and press my lips to hers in a kiss that’s clearly too short for her liking. Paige frowns.
“I need to tell you something that I should have said to you a long time ago,” I say, swallowing hard and gathering my courage. “I lied to you.”
Worry creases her forehead. “Lied to me about what?”
“I do believe that things happen for a reason,” I say. “Not everything. Not losing your mom—that was a horrible accident. It shouldn’t have happened. But I think everything after that did happen for a reason.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you and me. Meeting in the airport that day, as ridiculous as that was.” I laugh softly at the memory of the girl who’d so adamantly accused me of being a suitcase thief. My expression draws serious once more. “My life hasn’t been the same since the moment I met you, Paige. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever known. You accepted me for exactly who I was, flaws and all, and you forced me to be honest with myself for the first time in a long time. None of that was a coincidence.”
Paige tilts her face to the ceiling. Tears leak from the corners of her eyes and I swipe gently at the wetness with my thumbs. “Why are you crying?”
“I’ve been so lost since my mom died,” she whispers. My heart aches at her pain, and I want to make things better for her. But sometimes things just hurt and there’s nothing you can do about it.
“I was angry at her for sending me here. For not warning me. For not even telling me about my dad in the first place,” Paige says. “But most of all, I think I was angry because she never gave me a chance to have a say in any of this.”
I tighten my hold on her hand, and she meets my eyes. “The truth is, if I’d had a say in it, I never would have come here,” she admits. “I would have stayed in San Diego with Aunt Faye, and I would have missed out on so much. I would have missed my chance to get to know my dad and Connie and the kids. And you and I would never have met.” She stares at my lips. “Honestly, I can’t even imagine that. For so long, you were the only thing in this town that made any sense to me.”
“You called him your dad,” I say, and she smiles and nods.
“Yeah. We’re okay now. It’s a long story, and I’ll tell you about it later.” Paige rubs at the spot on her wrist where her watch used to be, it’s absence now marked by tan lines.
“Your watch,” I say.
She glances down at her wrist, her sigh heavy with sadness. “I lost it. I don’t know where, but it’s gone.”
“No,” I say. “Paige, it’s not gone. I completely forgot to tell you, I took it.”
“What?” Her brows lift, then drop as her eyes cloud with confusion. “Why? Where is it?” She sits up immediately, wincing at the discomfort that follows.
“When I was holding you on the ledge, waiting for the rescuers, I saw that the glass was cracked. Before they got to us, I took your watch. I gave it to Macy to have it repaired. She’s working on it.”
“Oh my gosh, Cade! Are you serious?” she squeals, flinging her uninjured arm around my neck and wrenching me into a hug.
“Take it easy, you have a hurt shoulder,” I remind her.
She squeezes me harder and cries into my neck, mumbling, “I don’t care. This is the best news! Thank you, thank you so much!” When she pulls back, sh
e’s laughing through her tears, and even after everything Paige’s been through, she’s as beautiful as ever. I stroke her cheek.
“I know how much that watch means to you.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not just talking about the watch. You saved me.”
“I think the Coast Guard gets the nod for that one. And Shawn was the one who called for help.”
Paige smiles and squeezes my hand. “I’m grateful for all of that. But that’s not what I’m talking about either. Cade, you saved me long before you ever rescued me from that cliff. And I will never forget that.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Paige
The doctor released me from the hospital with strict instructions to rest and take it easy. I think I’m going to have a nasty scar. Tanner says I should tell everyone I got in a bar fight with a biker gang and that I won. That kid cracks me up.
Quinn, Zoey and Sam have come to visit me so much, Jay felt the need to enforce strict visiting hours. At first, he allowed them only one hour each evening until I was back on my feet. Fortunately for them—and for me—that only lasted a week. Now, I’m back in class, but still moving slowly while all my bruises heal. Jay has been much more lenient with Cade, and he’s stopped by the house every day to check on me.
Aunt Faye extended her stay to keep an eye on me. She took a couple of days to visit Tyler at the university, but then she returned to oversee my recovery.
“Maybe you should have been a nurse,” I say as she tucks me into bed after dinner. “I think you missed your calling.”
“I don’t know,” she says, fluffing the pillows behind my back. “I only have patience for certain people. You happen to be one of them.” She picks up a few stray articles of clothing from the floor and tosses them into my hamper.
“You don’t need to clean my room. Can you just sit with me?” She does as I ask, and I make room for her on the bed.
“How’s your shoulder?” she asks.
“Much better.” I no longer have to wear my sling, and the soreness is lessening with each passing day. “I’m hoping I’ll be back to normal pretty soon.”
“Don’t rush it,” Faye says. “What’s your hurry anyway? Looks like you’re getting out of a lot of chores in your condition.”
I try to suppress it, but a hint of a smile appears. “Yeah, that part’s not so bad.”
“Uh-huh, that’s what I thought,” she says.
“The truth is, I want to get better because I have some things I need to do.”
“Like what?”
I take a deep breath. “I want to start dancing again. There are some advanced classes starting at Lily’s dance studio, and I want to enroll.”
Aunt Faye is quiet, but her eyes instantly sparkle with tears. “I think that’s an amazing plan.”
“You were right,” I say. “I miss dancing. And I can’t give it up.”
“And there she is.” Aunt Faye reaches out and pats my hand. “I knew she’d be back.” She hands me a cup of tea from the nightstand.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
“That little spitfire I’ve known all my life. She got derailed for a little while, but I knew she was still in there,” Aunt Faye says. “You’re just like your mother.” That’s one of the greatest compliments she’s ever paid me.
Faye kicks off her shoes and hoists her legs up to sit cross-legged in front of me on the bed. Just like Mom used to do. “So, what changed your mind?”
I want to tell her that she did. And Cade did. And remembering my mother and how much she loved me changed my mind. But instead, I say, “I guess I just realized I don’t want to be in a world where I can’t dance. That doesn’t work for me.”
“Abby would be so proud of you right now. Do you know that? All she ever wanted was for you to be happy. I can’t count how many times she wrote that in her journal.”
I stare down into the mug.
“Paige?” Aunt Faye asks. “Did you read her journals?”
“I read the first one, the one she wrote in high school,” I say. “That was really hard for me, and she wrote it so long ago. But the other one—that’s the end, you know?” I say. Faye nods with understanding. “Does that make me a coward?”
“Not at all,” she says.
“But you’ve read it, and Dad’s read it, and you both say I should.”
Faye touches my leg. “How about we read it together? Would that make it easier?” Hope, anticipation and unease swirl together into a tight ball that settles in the pit of my stomach as I nod. “Okay,” she says softly. “Where is it?”
I motion to the nightstand drawer, where she’d first put the journals nearly two months ago. She retrieves the leather-bound book, and I carefully ease myself over just enough to make room for her on the bed beside me. Faye stretches out, and I lean into her, resting my head on her shoulder as she opens the journal. She flips through the pages to my mother’s last entry, which is dated September 14. I close my eyes and try to ignore my racing pulse. Aunt Faye begins to read.
Today was another long day at the studio. I’m so proud of Paige for how hard she’s working. I know I’ve been intense with her these past few weeks, and I’m pushing her really hard, but it’s because I know what she’s capable of. I don’t want to jinx us, but I think she’s going to nail her audition. Any company would be lucky to have her. But even if they don’t choose her for whatever reason, it won’t matter. She’s such a gifted dancer, she will find her place and opportunities to amaze people with her talent. I am so impressed by her drive and tenacity. I wish I could say she gets them from me, but I don’t think I ever possessed those traits as strongly as she does.
Faye hesitates, her voice cracking. I lift my lashes, seeing fully for the first time the pages she holds in her hand. My mother’s words swirl before me as Faye swallows and continues.
It’s hard for me to believe Paige is seventeen already. When did that happen? My spunky little girl is now a strong, kind, talented young woman with an incredible head on her shoulders. Sometimes I think, “Way to go, Abby, you must have done everything right.” But I know it wasn’t me at all. Paige is an extraordinary person to her core. I am truly blessed to be her mother. I can’t wait to see what she will do next, and all the lives she will touch in big and small ways.
Tears slip from my eyes as Faye places two fingers to her lips and then presses them to the page. She closes the journal, and we sit in silence, holding hands as we each think about my mother in our own ways. I miss Mom so much, and I will always feel as if a piece of me is missing. The pain ebbs and flows, and sometimes, like now, the wound is as fresh as it was all those months ago. My world has been permanently altered, and I feel cheated by that. Compounding my heartbreak is the new realization of how much my mother lost when her life was snatched away from her.
Mom wasn’t a perfect human being—none of us are—but in my eyes, she came pretty close. She was selfless, always trying to do the best she could for me, even when I didn’t appreciate it or even notice. She impacted my life in a million little ways by merely being a part of it. When I think of it like that—I finally get it. I finally understand the one thing I didn’t before. I thought my grief was a punishment for all I had done wrong, for not being able to save Mom. But the truth is—my grief is proof that I loved her, and that she loved me in return. And that, by any measure, isn’t a punishment. It’s a gift.
EPILOGUE
Paige
I glance at my watch again and grow more anxious as each minute passes. The dance studio is deserted except for the receptionist, who sits behind the desk out front, playing solitaire on her phone. The last class ended at seven, but I begged her to keep the doors open. When I confessed to her the reason for my request, she was more than happy to oblige.
It’s now almost seven thirty. I stand squarely in front of the big mirrored wall and tap my pink-toed foot nervously on the hardwood floor. When I hear muffled voices out front, I turn with anticipation. It’s not
long before Cade appears in the doorway, shaking the rain from his hair. His smile is wide when he spots me.
As I nearly skip across the room, my heartbeat quickens. I’m used to the sensation by now. Since the day we met, it’s how my body reacts each time he looks my way. Cade studies me carefully, his eyes taking in my black leotard. “You look great.” I reach up on my tiptoes and give him a kiss. “Are you ready to go? I brought Macy’s car so you wouldn’t get drenched on the motorcycle.”
“Actually,” I confess, “I don’t need a ride home. I have my car.”
Confusion clouds Cade’s eyes. “No? Then—?”
I take hold of his wrists and draw him farther into the room. “I asked you to come here because I want to show you something.” Cade raises an eyebrow. When he looks at me like that, I nearly melt like an ice cream cone in the summer sun. “I want to show you what I’ve been working on.”
“Really?” His smile is bright, almost radiating a warmth that floods the space between us. I nod. Cade’s never seen me dance. For months, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Now that I am back in the studio and trying to make up for all the time I’ve squandered after losing my mom, I’m finally ready to share this piece of myself with him.
I draw a full breath, filling my lungs with courage, and turn to the stereo. “Keep in mind, I’m still a little rusty,” I call over my shoulder.
I cue up the music and press Play. As the song bleeds through the speakers and out across the large room, I stroll to the center of the space, facing the determined girl in the mirror and trying to forget about the deep, copper eyes watching my every move. I begin to dance, letting the music guide me, my arms and legs executing the movements just as they’ve been trained to do for so many years. It feels incredible to be here in this space, doing what I love more than anything else in the world. My injuries have completely healed, and I’ve spent the last several weeks getting back into shape and trying to recover the flexibility that once came so naturally. I’m getting there, although it hasn’t happened as quickly as my impatient self would like. It’s true that muscles have memories, and mine, even though I’d abandoned them for months, seem to have snapped right back into form when I started training again.