by Addison Fox
“What do you want me to tell you?” Her voice was still low, the echoes barely making a dent in the lobby acoustics, but he didn’t miss their fervent punch.
“I want to know why you fake your way through conversations with me. It’s like your voice says one thing but your eyes and your body language says something else. It’s like you’re mad at me.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
He had no idea why he was pushing this. It was stupid to question her or accuse her of ulterior motives. Jasmine was his sister’s friend. And while he’d always considered her his friend too, now that he had the bit between his teeth he seemed unwilling to drop it.
But what did he hope to gain? Yes, the urge to kiss her had started this all, but was there something else there? Could there be?
Did he want there to be?
“Why do I always feel like there’s something you’re not saying? Or worse, like I’m some bug you just want to squash underfoot.”
“This conversation has now gotten stupid. What are you talking about?”
Cade laid a hand on her forearm. “I’m talking about why you seem to count the minutes until you can get away from me every time I see you.”
“I don’t—”
“You do.”
The stiffness that had ridden her shoulders when he cornered her in the elevator seemed to expand, straightening her spine as her head tossed back. The protesting was gone, replaced with something he’d never seen on her before.
White-hot anger.
“What would you like me to tell you? That seeing you, whether you were with the flavor of the month or not, hurt? Or maybe you’d like me to tell you how I had to sit and watch you touching other women, running your hands over their skin and brushing your fingers through their hair, and how I spent every fucking moment wishing it was me!”
Her voice finally broke on the last notes. “I was fine, Cade,” she tossed his word back at him, “because I had no choice.”
And there it was.
The subtle disdain he’d struggled to understand. The airy answers she always gave him that never seemed to carry any weight or depth. And, most of all, the reason he felt himself lacking every time she looked at him.
He’d flaunted his life in front of her. It hadn’t been intentional—he’d swear to that—but it had been true all the same. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” She waved him off, taking two steps back when he made a move toward her. “We’re friends. We’ve always been friends. It’s not your fault I wanted there to be something more.”
Misery stamped itself in the drawn lines of her mouth and the way she wrapped her slender arms around her waist, as if protecting herself.
He’d done this. And after years of making her think he hadn’t noticed, how did he begin to repair the damage? He did see her, and he had noticed her. He hadn’t understood it at the time, even as he now cursed himself for something so obvious.
Something so tangible and real.
But the acknowledgment now couldn’t reverse years of ignorance and a general sense of obliviousness that hardly showed him in the best light.
As the oppression of the moment weighted him down, a small kernel of memory sparked in the back of his mind. A summer afternoon at the New York Aquarium. His mother had finally tired of the bored kids lying around her living room and had taken them there for something to do. Once there, he and Jaz had been chosen to take part in the aquarium show. They’d both stuck their hands in a slimy bucket of fish, tossing pieces to hungry sea lions and happy dolphins, laughing at the animals that surfaced to greet them.
He didn’t think he’d been back since, but the memory of that afternoon struck him every time he encountered the smell of cold, raw fish. Funny how he could still remember the bright smile on her face and the way her dark, often serious eyes had lit up with laughter behind her thick glasses.
“I know what we’re going to do.”
“Cade, come on.”
“No arguing.”
“I’m not arguing. I’m just—” She broke off on a heavy sigh. “I just spilled my guts, and you’re acting like it’s no big deal.”
“It is a big deal. But it doesn’t change the fact that you and I need an activity this afternoon. And while I can think of several activities I’d like to do,” he added with a wink for good measure, suddenly giddy with the possibilities for their afternoon, “I think that may be jumping the gun a bit.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Let’s go feed the fish.”
* * *
Jasmine wasn’t sure if she should scream or laugh or find a quiet area to roll up into a ball and cry. She’d flirted with each option and instead found herself on a half-full F train headed for the aquarium.
Let’s go feed the fish.
Cade’s comment still lingered, the reference one she not only recognized, but also a memory she’d always kept close. A hot afternoon and the general pissiness that had descended over all of them as summer vacation had made its inevitable shift from fun and carefree to unstructured and boring. Giavanna Rossi had little tolerance for boredom and had herded her children and any extras lying about out of her house and off to the aquarium for a day of learning and something different to do. Boredom had quickly turned to fascination as they’d visited the various animals.
But it was the aquarium show that had provided the true highlight of the day. Jasmine was already giddy to be spending the day with Cade, but to get to do something with just him . . .
It had been amazing.
She’d been back since—several times, including just the month prior, with Gardner, for a cocktail party that had transformed the grounds—but not one of those visits had compared to the day she and Cade had fed the animals at the big show.
The subway announcement called their stop, and Cade gestured her toward the doors. The two of them hopped off and headed for the exit.
“I’m not sure I pegged you for an aquarium sort of guy.”
He was nearly through the turnstile exit when he stopped and turned to face her, something she couldn’t quite read hovering in his dark gaze. “Why not?”
“It’s, well . . . pedestrian.”
“You mean because we’re walking here?”
She hit him lightly on the shoulder before pushing him through the turnstile and then following. “You know what I mean.”
“Actually, I’m not sure I do. What’s so dull about an afternoon at one of the world’s best aquariums?”
“It’s not dull. In fact, it’s a great suggestion. It just doesn’t seem like you.”
“For starters, I think it will be fun. And to your point, maybe I’m sick of what seems like me. I know I’ve got a certain reputation, but until recently I didn’t quite realize how boring and uninteresting it makes me seem.”
His assessment brought Jasmine up short, and she had to acknowledge her own role in that.
Why do you brush me off like that?
His earlier words at the precinct rambled around in her mind, unable to find purchase.
She wouldn’t apologize for the pain she’d felt watching him with other women, but she did have to own her judgment and behavior toward Cade. Whatever else she hoped for, he was her friend and had been for the majority of her life.
And she’d allowed her anger and jealousy to color that and, worse, to color her behavior toward him.
They came out on the sidewalk, the bright summer sunshine nearly blinding them.
“I’m sorry, Cade.”
He reached for her hand and tugged her forward, out of the line of other riders escaping the station. “For what?”
“I’ve been so horrible to you. I knew it, but until this moment I didn’t realize how awful I’ve been. I thought it was you.”
The words tumbled out like a flood, remorse swamping her as it swirled around her belly.
The attitude she’d given him. The subtle—and not so subtle—s
nide comments. Even the general moodiness that had accompanied every encounter they’d had for the past decade.
She loved him, but she hadn’t acted in love.
“Whoa. Wait.” Cade gripped her hand harder as he pulled her away from the main rush on the sidewalk. “What’s this about?”
“I’ve been unkind. Worse, I took out my anger on you.”
“I’ll survive.”
“Yes, but—” Without warning, her words were smothered by his mouth as he pulled her into his chest, using his handhold to drag her forward.
Just like the night before, coherent thoughts vanished from her mind as her body reacted to his touch. To his lips.
To him.
Warm and wanton, they gave and took from each other as the kiss expanded into mutual exploration. His lips were firm, his tongue domineering—and totally Cade—as it swept through her mouth.
But it was the feel of his hands on her body, one large hand resting over her back while the other sat at her hip, which completed the feeling.
She was safe. She was forgiven. And in this moment, in his arms, everything was perfect. The rest of the world stopped so that there was only the two of them.
It was heady. And the fulfillment of every longing she’d had for the past two decades.
For today, that was enough.
* * *
“You really thought this was pedestrian?” Cade wrapped an arm around Jasmine before reaching for a fingerful of cotton candy off the colorful spool she carried. They’d hit most of the exhibits and even gone back to see the penguins for a second time before stopping off for the sweet treat.
“I didn’t say that. I said it was pedestrian for you.”
“Spoken like a true lawyer. Context inside the context.”
Jasmine smiled, a small patch of blue sticking to the corner of her mouth. “I think I resent that?”
He leaned in and licked the small spot off, closing with a firm kiss before stepping back. “Don’t.”
“Okay, I won’t.”
He grinned at the breathy undertones of her words before adding what he’d always thought. “You’re a damn fine lawyer.”
“Thank you.”
“You and my sister are quite a pair.”
“Landon recently started calling us Law and Order.”
Cade laughed at that; McGee’s reference was spot on. “He nailed it.”
“I suppose he did. We’re sure a long way from that gangly group of kids your mother brought here one summer afternoon.”
“Are we?” For all the time that had passed, Cade knew some things hadn’t changed. He was still firmly grounded in Park Heights. His family still surrounded him, wild and crazy, at times happy, and at others loud and cantankerous, but always there. Despite having his own apartment, “home” was still his mother’s kitchen.
“You don’t think so?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I know I’m an adult, so my perspective has changed some, but are we really that different from that gangly group of kids? All that I am comes from here. My roots. My family. Even my desire to be a cop. Brooklyn’s my home, and I want to protect it.”
The happy smile that had ridden her face as they moved through the aquarium faded, replaced with the same remorse he’d seen earlier outside the subway station. The beautiful depths of her eyes were troubled, a small line playing between her eyebrows. “I really do owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
“I’ve misjudged you. Worse, I’ve let my frustration blind me to the man you’ve become.”
Whatever anxiety or concern he’d carried over the two of them exploring a relationship seemed to hang in this moment. Cade felt it—knew it—and tried to breathe through the sudden burst of adrenaline and the racing heartbeat that galloped beneath his chest.
“What have you misjudged?”
“You. I’ve equated your dating life with your attitude and vision of the world. The serial dater with little in his head besides the next time he can get laid.”
She wasn’t entirely off the mark, but he chose to let her continue. There was time for explanations later. For now, he wanted to know what she thought.
More than that, he wanted to see if he had begun to change her mind.
“And what do you think now?”
“I think you still want to get laid, but you’ve made me see a few other things, too.” Her smile had returned at the tease, like sunshine coming out from behind clouds. “I think you do an incredibly difficult job yet find the strength inside to persevere. I think, despite how they frustrate you, you love your family to distraction. I knew these things, but I never gave you the proper credit for it.”
“And now you will?”
“Yes.” On her own, she leaned in and pressed a candy-flavored kiss to his lips. “I’m also not worried about what comes next.”
“You’re not?”
“No.” That smile remained and with it, Cade felt the hope spark in his chest. The adrenaline-fueled fear faded, replaced with something light and giddy.
Something happy.
“Whatever happens to us, we’ll need to figure that out on our own,” Jasmine continued. “But whatever happens, nothing can change the fact that you’re my friend. More than that, you’re family to me. I’ve been blind to that for too long, and you have my promise I won’t be anymore.”
“That means you want to try something?”
“I did ditch my boyfriend a few hours ago in the precinct lobby.”
Although her affectionate actions that afternoon had indicated as much, the news that she had broken up with Gardner felt good to hear. “I need to make a similar trip over to Sarah’s house myself.”
“So we’re going to try and see where this goes?”
“I know where it’s going. It’s keeping it where I usually seem to fall off the tracks.”
Jasmine pressed her lips to his once more, her smile imprinting itself against his mouth. “Let’s ride the train together.”
Where this exact moment would typically incite panic, all Cade felt was a gentle, soothing comfort. No need to escape. No exit strategy forming in his mind.
Just a warm, lovely floating that suggested he could stand there forever.
He answered her smile with one of his own, gratified when her lips opened for him, so insanely responsive and warm.
Cade allowed himself to drift, the sounds of the aquarium fading as he focused on the woman who was rapidly becoming the center of his universe.
Who could be the very heart of it forever.
So it only made the intrusion that much more difficult. Harsh, discordant notes of anger interrupted the kiss, a sucker punch to the warm cocoon he’d built around him and Jaz.
“Look at what we have here. More uppity-bitch moves, looking to get above your station. And soiling New York’s finest while you’re at it.”
Chapter Nine
The world went from soft and lovely to hard and ugly in the span of a heartbeat. One moment she was in Cade’s arms, their kiss a clear sign they were both ready to explore their future, and the next, her past had climbed out of the sewer, prepared to attack her.
Cade had gone very still, his arm crossing her body as he used a firm hand to press her behind him. “Barrow.”
“I’ve got no complaint with you.”
“I sure as hell have one with you,” Cade shot back. “Harassment. Breaking parole. How the hell did you get out?”
“I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Nothing wrong?
Jasmine nearly gasped at the sheer magnitude of his words. She knew Barrow was violent—his visits with his daughter had been limited because he’d abused his ex-wife and child—but to stand there and act as if he hadn’t yelled those vile things at her or touched her in such an intimate, filthy, violating way?
What was he?
And what circumstances possibly made such an animal?
“You verbally and sexually assaulted me.” The words were st
iff and formal, but Jasmine took heart that there wasn’t even a hint of quavering in her voice. She would do this. Would stare down her attacker and stand for her own worth.
“I did not.”
“You touched me.”
“You asked me to. Thinking you could get something outta me if you crawled up a notch.”
Cade practically quivered as he stood there, and Jasmine settled a hand on his waist, holding him still. Barrow saw it, his already beady eyes narrowing as a sneer filled his lips. “Clearly you’re still doing it, trying to trap another white man.”
She’d known from the start of her career that working in the legal system—in the public defender’s office, no less—would expose her to some of the worst aspects of human nature. Even with all she’d seen and the knowledge of what she would still see, Barrow’s words struck like bullets.
Did he actually see the world that way?
One look in his cold gaze and she knew with certainty that he saw the world exactly that way.
She wasn’t immune to the realities of life as a black woman. She’d lived nearly thirty years understanding there were subtle lines of demarcation in the world and where she was expected to stand. With her parents’ support, she’d fought it where she could. She’d also been fortunate to have a bigger support system who saw her for exactly who she was, and who believed in her.
Daphne Rossi and her family sat at the top of that list.
But to stand there and be so summarily dismissed—worse, to be assumed to be somehow less—stung more than she could even begin to process.
He’d assaulted her in the worst way and seemed to suggest that his attention was something of an honor.
Fuck him.
“Whatever you think you are, the only thing you and this man have in common are skin color. You’re a sniveling piece of shit, and you’re a criminal.”
Barrow’s face grew red, his chest puffing up. She got the sense of a bull waiting to leap the way he shuffled his weight from foot to foot, but he held still, his gaze darting repeatedly to Cade.
Jasmine had nearly convinced herself that she’d waved that red flag a bit too hard when Barrow turned on his heels and ran.
Before she could even think to stop him, Cade followed.