by A. J. Pryor
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” she says with a trembling voice.
“So you lied?” I ask, lifting a brow.
She hangs her head and my chest tightens. “Hannah, look at me.” Her eyes rise to mine, our faces inches apart, our naked bodies close but not touching. “I don’t understand what you were protecting me from. You lied to me.”
“It was a really bad situation, Cage. You would have gone ape shit had I told you the truth, Gone after him. I wanted the entire day to go away. I’m sorry. I should have told you.”
I stand and pull on a pair of sweats, run my hands through my hair, pulling the ends until I feel a pinch of pain. “I’m going ape shit now. What’s the difference?” I say glaring at her.
“The difference? You’re mad at me, not him.” She pulls on my T-shirt and stands on the other side of the bed, her chin raised, her arms across her chest. “You don’t want me near your father? Well I don’t want you near him either. And I’ll do anything to keep you away from him. Anything. Even if it means I have to lie to you over and over again.”
She’s practically screaming at me, her chest is rising with deep inhales, her bottom lip quivering, her eyes misting with tears. It’s breaking my heart. I want to protect her, to love her with everything I have, but I need to know what she’s so afraid of. “What did he do to you?”
“He didn’t do anything to me.” She spits out.
“Hannah, what did he want?” I try to calm my voice, try to relax the stiffness of my shoulders, the harshness of my gaze.
“He wanted me to stay away from you.” She yells. “To stop seeing you, to stop digging into your past.”
I turn and press my hands to the wall, banging my forehead against the cold material. I breathe deeply through my nose and close my eyes. God he’s such an asshole. “Is that all?” I say through clenched teeth.
She doesn’t respond.
I face her and look directly into her eyes, watch as a tear falls down her cheek. “Hannah, is that all?”
She stares back, her face tortured but she finally nods.
I push off from the wall and walk around the bed until I’m standing directly in front of her. If I could, I’d go to Tom Cage’s house, and make sure he never goes near Hannah again. But I can’t leave her in this state, and I need to make things right between us. I can’t lose her. Not over my dad. I won’t ever let him win.
She looks up at me, another tear dropping down her cheek. I use my thumb to wipe it away.
“Hannah, my dad can’t come between us. I won’t allow it. Stay away from him; he’s up to no good.”
“You have to make the same promise.”
“He’s my dad.”
“I don’t care. Promise me you’ll stay away from him. That you won’t go near him.” I hate that she’s asking me to let this go, but I’ve always wanted a reason to keep my distance, now I have one.
Reluctantly, I make the promise.
We stare at each other for a breath before we both move at once. I tear the T-shirt over her head and capture her lips with mine. She digs her fingers into my hair, pulling my face close to hers, biting, sucking, moaning. We fall onto the bed, an intense ball of heat and tension.
Using her toes to push my pants down my ass, my cock is barely free before I push it inside of her. We groan in unison. She’s so fucking wet, so warm and everything about her feels fucking good. I don’t stop, don’t slow, she takes it all and gives back just as fiercely. Her hips meet mine, thrust for thrust. She moans out unintelligible sounds, her toes curling into the back of my thighs, her head falling back, and her lips parted in ecstasy as she comes quick and fast.
Rising on my hands, uninhibited and primal, I let loose and thrust over and over until she’s falling apart again, her insides gripping me tight and I lose all control. Searing heat shoots down my spine to my toes. I roar out her name, my body shaking my heart pounding.
We’re breathing hard, our eyes locked, our faces inches apart. I take her lips, kiss her with force, dive my tongue inside and claim her mouth the same way my cock just took her body.
The intensity is extreme, all my emotions poured into this kiss, and she devours it, wrapping her arms around my neck, keeping my body close to hers, my cock still inside her body.
“Don’t lie to me again, Hannah,” I finally say. My body pressed against hers, barely any part of us untouched, our lips brushing, our breaths mingling.
She turns and straddles me, her full breasts bouncing, her hands skimming my chest as she rotates her hips, my cock hardening inside of her. “Can you be a little late to practice?” Her voice is innocent, but I can read the dirty meanings behind that question.
How the fuck am I supposed to say no to that? I spend the next hour making sure Hannah knows exactly how much I love her. It isn’t until I’m deep into practice that I realize she never made that last promise.
Is there something she’s still lying about?
I should have told him. He’s never going to forgive me when he finds out the truth. It was the right time, it was the perfect moment, but I couldn’t force the words from my mouth. He has a mantra tattooed on his body. He believes in the good of people. He believes in me.
I should have told him. A thousand pounds of guilt weighs me down.
Tonight. I’ll tell him tonight.
I call Gwen. “When are you back in town?” She’s been in Seattle on a business trip the past week. She missed everything.
“Tomorrow, and we’re having dinner. Tell your boy toy he’s taking a night off.”
I laugh. “Um, I think he’s a little, I mean, a lot more than that.”
She sighs heavily. “Tell me what’s changed in the seven days I’ve been absent.”
Taking the next half hour to fill her in on my relationship status, I don’t realize Larry is lingering in my doorway. “Gwen, I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Larry takes that cue to enter my office. “Hannah.” He shuts my door before taking a seat. “I need an update. I’ve let you run with this, haven’t pressed you for much, but it’s time to show your cards.”
I knew this was coming, and he’s right. He’s seen me in the papers with Derek, he’s watched me walk into this office and has never asked to see my notes, or even an outline.
“I’m almost done, Larry. I’ve been writing for the past week. I just have a few loose ends to tie.”
“I need to see the rough draft.”
“I’ll have it to you by tomorrow morning.”
He twists his lips skeptically. “Don’t promise something you can’t deliver, Hannah.”
“You’ll have a draft. I promise.” I can’t tell Larry that the largest pieces to my story won’t be in that draft, that I still haven’t figured out what Lily discovered. But he’ll get to see a side to Derek that’s hidden from the public. He’ll see the veins of the story I’m creating.
It’s time to get the missing piece. Briskly walking through the office, I head straight for Chandler. “Grab your coat. We’re going out.”
“We are?” Looking at all the work piled on his desk, his phone to his ear, he hesitates.
“You coming, or am I doing this on my own?”
“Gotta go, Momma. Love you.”
Grabbing his wool coat, he follows me to the elevators.
“Call Solomon, tell him you’re with me today.”
“On it. Where are we going?”
“Back in time.”
“You should have warned me, you know. High school was a traumatic experience.”
Pulling into the parking lot of Walter Payton High School, Chandler prattles on about being the odd gay man out.
“You were bullied?”
“Moi? Puhleeze! I ran this school.”
“So what’s your bitch?”
He attempts to fix his hair in the visor mirror. “I’m pale and pasty today. Not the way one wants to go back to his alma mater.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” I laugh. “We’re
at your old high school, not college.”
I get out of the car. The school is old, with white plaster on the walls, blue lettering, and faded blue trim. It’s desolate and dingy.
“How many kids did you graduate with?”
“About four hundred.”
This place feels more like a jail than a school, and I’m surprised Tom Cage allowed his son to attend.
We open the doors, and Chandler leads me to the front office.
“Chandler Woods. Is that you? Oh my gosh, it is you. Come over here and give me a hug.”
The women are all in their late fifties and sixties, and large, like they don’t get out and walk around much, but happy and smiling at Chandler while they drag out stories from years past.
“And who’s this? Is this—? Are you—?”
“No, Betty, I am not straight. Hannah is a friend, and we were hoping to have a word with Principal Sutton.”
Betty pulls up a calendar on a computer. “I don’t see an appointment, Chandler. You usually need one to see him, but let me see what I can do.”
Twenty minutes later, we walk into Principal Sutton’s office. Whether it’s from his big smile, his dimples, or ears that are too big for his head, I like this man right away.
After he and Chandler get through their pleasantries, I ease into the conversation. “I know it has been eleven years, Principal Sutton, but I was wondering if you can tell me anything about Derek Cage and Lily Harold? I’m also a friend to Derek Cage, trying to put the puzzle pieces together.”
Sutton’s face falls. He takes off his glasses and rubs them with a cloth, inspecting them for any remaining smudges. “Two bright kids, two lives ruined.”
“Ruined? One of them is dead, but the other seems fairly well off if you ask me.”
“Derek Cage died the day we buried Lily Harold.” Sutton stares at the bookshelf behind me. “That kid loved life. My guess is that’s what his mom taught him before she died: to live with vitality, knowing her time was short-lived.”
I lean forward, not wanting to miss a word. “Why do you say that? Why do you assume she knew she was going to die?”
Sutton averts his gaze. “This is a small town. Small towns talk.”
“What were they saying?”
Choosing his words carefully, he shrugs. “It was a long time ago, Ms. Black, but the Cages were well-known. Mrs. Cage wasn’t supposed to be driving that night, and everyone knew it. Derek was devastated when she died.”
“Losing Lily a few years later . . . it was too much. Derek changed from class clown to silent. Straight As and football. That was it.”
“Do you think he saw something the night Lily died?”
“No, I don’t. He was sad. The boy had a broken heart.”
“Some people think he killed Lily.”
Shaking his head, he says, “A shame what people will do to keep the drama going. Lily’s death was tragic. I don’t know who killed her, but after that day, Derek Cage became a loner, a successful loner, but it must have been a sad existence.”
My heart bleeds a little. “What about Reggie Maddox? Wasn’t he there for Derek?”
”No! Reggie Maddox was bad news, always in trouble and constantly looking for his next adventure. I don’t have much to say about him except that he was the best left-handed quarterback this state had ever seen.”
“Reggie Maddox? Don’t you mean Derek?”
“No, Ms. Black. Reggie was the star football player at this school. But he lost his college scholarship when he was caught with cocaine in his system a few days before the season started. Derek’s not a troublemaker, and yes, it’s rare to have two left-handed quarterbacks on one team, but stranger things have happened.”
My heart picks up pace. Reggie Maddox. Is he the glue that sticks this all together? Derek trusts him. Could that faith be misguided?
“Was it possible that Reggie was also in love with Lily?”
He shrugs. “Ms. Black, you’re talking about seventeen-year-old boys with raging hormones. Anything is possible.”
He’s right. Anything is possible.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Sutton.” I stand. “Is there anything you’ve said today you’d like me to keep off the record?”
“No. I’ve been waiting for the day someone brought this subject up. This story’s been dormant for too long.” I knew I liked this man.
Chandler and I start to leave, and Mr. Sutton clears his voice. “I do have one request, Ms. Black. Keep Derek Cage happy. Wins like this past weekend make this city stronger.”
Smiling, I promise to try.
Chandler and I walk out of the school, and I grab his arm. “When Lily died, did anyone question Reggie Maddox as a possible suspect?”
“Sunshine, everyone was a person of interest. But the only one they were truly interested in was Derek. Until Tom Cage squashed that.”
Chandler and I both slam the car doors at the same time. I blast the heat, trying to unfreeze from the five-minute walk across the parking lot.
“Sunshine, it’s not that cold outside.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“What do you know about Reggie?” I ask.
He flips the sun visor down and fixes his windblown hair. “I think the better question, Sunshine, is what do you know about him?”
“I’m not in the mood for games, Chandler.”
“And I’m not playing any. Have you ever seen Derek and Reggie together?”
“A few times, why?”
“Notice anything in particular?”
“Like?”
“Jesus, Sunshine, sometimes I think our roles should be reversed. Besides the difference in their coloring, does anything stand out to you?”
I haven’t seen Reggie in a few weeks and can’t remember the details of his appearance. I pull out my phone and Google his name, and then press on images. There are a few photos of him at press events, but the ones that catch my eye are photos taken with Derek. Side by side, there is a familiarity between them. Their noses mimic the same straight angle, and their eyes are both almond in shape with thick black lashes. Where Derek’s jaw is chiseled, Reggie has a more boyish roundness to his face, but they both have the same pointed chin that is prominent on Senator Cage. And the sexy cleft in their chins, it’s present in both of them. Nausea bubbles in my gut, and I roll down my window, needing air. “Holy shit, Chandler. Who else knows about this?”
“Probably no one. Unless you’re looking for it, it’s hard to tell.”
“How did you figure it out?” I ask mystified.
“I was a lonely, homosexual teen, Sunshine. I spent my free time studying those two boys when we were in high school. One day it dawned on me that they were related in some way.”
I stare at the photo again. They’re no doubt related, maybe cousins. But if they were cousins, why keep it a secret? They could be brothers, but they’re too close in age to both be Madeline’s . . . which can only mean one other thing.
Tom Cage’s office is as I would imagine with its dark wood and brown leather furnishings, similar to an opulent cigar club with a scent of orange spice. His pert assistant is standing in the doorway, refusing to leave me alone while we wait for his arrival. I can’t say I blame her. The itch to snoop through his drawers is tempting.
“Hannah, I’m sorry to keep you.” I swivel in the chair and watch as Tom Cage breezes into the room. He mentions something to his assistant. She leaves, closing the door behind her.
Briskly, he walks up to me with an outstretched hand. I stand and take it.
“I trust our agreement is still intact?” he asks with an air of authority.
“Who is his mother?” I’m breaking my promise to Derek by coming here today but I need to see if it’s true. How many lies has this man told his son?
He steps back, losing the smile. “Who are you talking about?”
“Reggie Maddox. Who’s his mother?”
He blanches and runs a hand through his hair. His lips form a t
ight line of disapproval, his tone no longer friendly and welcoming. “Take a seat.”
I return to my chair and watch as he sits across from me. Surrounded by all this extravagance, I expect him to exude power and strength, but he looks old and weary.
“First, Hannah, tell me how you know.” He sits in his chair, one ankle resting on a knee, like the discovery of a second family is an everyday occurrence. But he can’t hide the fear in his eyes. The distrust. The manipulation.
“How I found out isn’t important.”
“I disagree.”
“I realize to your reputation, keeping this secret is vital, but I can promise you, my source is not going to tell anyone that Reggie Maddox is your son. So, it is unimportant.”
He sits forward, resting his elbows on the desk, clasping his hands in front of his face.
“The last person to discover this fact died, Hannah. How did you find out?”
Is he referring to Lily? “I pieced it together.”
“Does Derek know?” he asks.
“I don’t think so.”
He nods. “Good.”
No, it’s not good. It’s anything but good. It’s horrible, and you are a horrible person. I want to scream this, but I need him to talk to me. I need answers.
“Maybe if you came clean with Derek, he wouldn’t hate you.”
His brows rise. “I can assure you, he would never speak to me again if he discovered the truth.”
He’s never going to speak to you again anyway. But at least he’ll know about his past. At least he’ll finally be able to move on and live a life worth living.
“Does Reggie know you’re his father?” I ask.
He nods, and my heart climbs into my throat. I can’t keep this from Derek. He can’t be the only person left out of his own life. I have to tell him.
“How long has he known?”
Somberly, Tom Cage reveals the story of his second son. “I had an affair with Reggie’s mother, Kelly Maddox. She worked for me. One day, around the time I found out Madeline was pregnant, Kelly quit her job and moved to a different city. I assumed she was upset about Madeline’s condition. Kelly returned fourteen years later, broke, battling cancer, and with a son who was obviously mine. I rented them a house, paid all her medical bills, and bribed them to keep this a secret.”