Fighting Fate (Endgame #4)

by Leigh Ann Lunsford

  I pick up Julie, distracting her while Deacon gets his bearings. I’m sure it’s hard for him. A girl who he loves, and a girl who destroyed it . . . both still in his heart.

  There are some hiccups. Deacon seeing Saylor. Deacon comforting Emberlee, against her actions to him. I see a glimpse of the girl who was my best friend. Her mask slipping and it mends a slice in my heart.

  I listen to Emberlee drown Deacon in truth regarding her actions. He’s struggling for control, while I’m wavering. The depths of her deceptions are deep . . . then his hand finds mine and I can breathe. Saylor approaches and he shuts her down. I let my head rest against Caden, nothing out of the ordinary, so we don’t draw attention. She’s begging and Deacon ignores her defenses. Understandable . . . but heartbreaking.

  Caden lets me go and walks to a different room. He calls for Deacon and I have no doubt he’ll try to infuse wisdom and forgiveness in the situation. I sneak to the edge of the garage where they disappeared, shameless in my eavesdropping. Hearing Caden reiterates why I fell in love with him. “I heard everything you said to her. I watched her absorb your words. Now, you look at this and tell me, is this the girl you want to give up?” As he moves, I peek through the window and see Saylor taking Mr. Winchester down. Thanking God he survived, praying to God to fix all of us.

  The rest of their conversation I don’t hear. My mom appears and pulls me to the bathroom. “Spying?” She teases. The catastrophe is over so we’re all seeking those we love.

  “Busted.” She takes me in her arms. “Where did things go wrong?” I need her to tell me so we can heal.

  “Lies.” I grumble at her blatant wisdom. “This whole lot of adults has kept secrets, lies, and feelings quiet too long. This is gonna bust shit wide open.” I thought she was referring to me. I sigh in relief until she continues. “Seems your group is following suit.” Her pointed look has me singing like a songbird. We’re all close to our parents, with the exception of Emberlee, so spilling to my mom isn’t a surprise.

  “And you haven’t told me everything.” I emptied my heart and she wants more. She’s crazy. “I heard about Emberlee. Saylor. Deacon. The toll it’s taking. The lies and webs you all weaved. I haven’t heard why you and Caden are hiding.” I gasp. “I’m not blind honey.”

  I contemplate lying to her, but my mouth opens. “I love him.” She nods. “But he made this stupid rule. None of us were allowed to fall in love . . . stupid boy. With all that’s happened, we’ve been lying to everyone. I swear, we were gonna tell them . . . at Christmas.” Her eyes close, her arms hold me while I purge my soul in tears.

  “Avery, I can’t tell you what to do. I know you and Caden won’t hurt each other. You two have this unique bond. I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it. It’s the glue that holds your dad and I together. I understand your reasoning, but I have to warn you. Don’t put others ahead of your love. It may be too late when you realize your mistake.” I stay in her arms, absorbing her wisdom and love.

  He crawls in my bed, Emberlee stayed at home and Saylor is gone. Fixing herself so she can fix Deacon. “My mom knows.” I whisper in the dark.

  He chuckles. “Mine, too.” I gasp. “I told her months ago. I’ve been in knots. This love I have for you— I want to shout it from the rooftops and keep it close at the same time.”

  “I don’t want to make a mistake by telling everyone too soon and I don’t want to damage us by hiding.” I’m terrified.

  “Nothing will damage us Avery.” He’s hovering over me, staring into my eyes, making me believe every word. “Nothing.” His lips capture mine.

  “Almost a year.” I whisper.

  “I’ve got this.” He lies down and pulls me to him. “A year of my life with you needs to be recognized. I’ll handle it and we’ll celebrate.” I worry how we’ll cover until his lips find my temple. “I’ve got it, Picasso.” And I know he does. “Deadline is summer. If people don’t have their shit together by then, I don’t give a fuck.” He’s asking me if I’m okay with it, and making a rule in one. I can’t answer because I’m unsure. I don’t want to sacrifice him for anyone, but how is it fair to sacrifice four other people for us? He just told me nothing would damage us.

  I fall asleep in his embrace. One I’m always serene in and dream of vivid colors, a canvas of love, filled by what Caden gives me.

  Ruthian: Go along with whatever your mom says.

  Good morning to you, too. The girls are having breakfast with our moms, and Saylor is along for the ride. Finally, things are good. She’s as good as moved into Deacon’s, regardless of what she says. Her grand gesture was sure as hell a grand slam and we can all breathe easy. Granted, a work in progress is what we’re dealing with regarding Emberlee . . . Deacon the toughest to crack; with understanding. It’s a whole new ballgame when you have a kid involved.

  “We leave in the morning at eight, Avery.” I glance at my mom, previous text in my mind.

  “Where are you going?” Emberlee asks, so I look to my mom— I’m clueless.

  “A girls weekend. It’s a surprise.” My mom throws me a wink and I bite my lip to stifle the laughter. He’s dirty . . . and good. Got my mom involved.

  “Sounds fun. We should crash, Mom.” Emberlee says. No. No. No.

  “Sorry, baby. We have counseling.” I sigh in relief. Not because Emberlee’s family is in counseling and in turmoil, but because I know this is Caden’s anniversary treat.

  Saylor gets engaged in her routine with Julie and we all sigh in relief when we know things are still good. “Shopping?” Lee Lee asks when we finish eating.

  Glancing to Saylor for her approval, she gives me a nod. “Sure.” I need to get some stuff for my surprise. It’ll be hard, filled with lies, but worth it. Our relationship is still stiff and what’s funny, Saylor tries as hard as Emberlee but I’m still leery. Emberlee hasn’t fixed herself— she knows she’s wrong. She knows she hurt us. She knows it was for the wrong reasons. But, she still must forgive herself . . . without our help.

  Dodging questions is easy when I purchase lingerie. Saylor’s checking in with Deacon, so I tell Emberlee it’s a gift for Saylor. Saylor peeks at my haul when Lee Lee is in the bathroom and I tell her it’s for Emberlee . . . a pick me up for her. It’s like feeding candy to a baby . . . which Mason does frequently.

  The twinge of guilt isn’t enough to make me spill the truth, feel bad, or rebuke my weekend with Caden. Sorry. Not sorry.

  I opt to spend the night at my parents so it’s easier for Caden to pick me up. I haven’t seen or heard from him but I did text him with my plans so he’ll know where I’ll be waiting for him. Seems like I played into his hands when he picks me up. “Glad to see you can play along smart girl.”

  “What?” He kisses me in my foyer and it’s nice to be in the open. My dad shoots me a wink and acts like he’s hiding his eyes.

  “I stayed at my parents.” He flashes a grin. So close . . .

  “You should have snuck in.” I tease.

  “Still in the room.” My dad bellows. Not with a hint of anger. I think he’s excited I’m with Caden . . . someone he trusts.

  “Oh, I didn’t think your hearing was still that good.” I toss at him.

  “Best of luck, son.” He speaks to Caden. “I’m sure her dowry will bankrupt me, but at least I’ll get to live in peace when I offload this troublemaker.” I giggle at my dad.

  “Bye Daddy.” I kiss his cheek and follow Caden to the car. He slings my bag in the trunk and waits for me to buckle up.

  “I love you.” He kisses me. “In twelve hours, one year ago is the day I stopped being a pussy and made you mine.”

  “Best day of my life.” His eyes dance in mischief, his lips lift . . . causing my heart to soar.

  We joke, fight over the radio and I eat the road trip snacks he brought me. I stuff my face with Twizzlers, chips, chocolate . . . washing it down with Coke. He rolls his eyes and a tad bit of guilt creeps in . . . baseball season. He can’t indulge. I shrug as I pop a Goober
in my mouth. Crossing over the Missouri state line, I sneak a look at him. “Where we going?”

  “Surprise.” He doesn’t give me anything. “After we check in we’re going to lunch and you’ll have to wait for the rest.”

  I’ll let him have this . . . he went through all the trouble planning and whisking me away for the night. He pulls into The Raphael Hotel and my jaw drops, excitement pouring through me. I’d wanted to come here over the summer while seeing the sculpture exhibit at The Nelson-Atkins Museum. “Really?” I squeal.

  “Saw you looking at this. Anything for you.” I don’t get time to maul his face because the valet is at my door and Caden meets us on my side to hand him the keys. I stand back letting him check us in and he takes my hand when he’s done. “They’ll bring our bags up. After, we’ll go eat.” I nod, staring in wonderment at the paintings and artwork scattered in the lobby area.

  “It’s unreal.” I sigh. He snickers, kissing my head and dragging me to the elevator. He leads me to the room . . . Presidential Suite, no less. “Holy crap, Caden.” I sigh as I take in the room. There’s a living room, which I bypass to go into the bedroom. A high king sized bed sets off the center of the room, with white linens and a tufted head and foot board. It screams elegance. Romance. Love. I turn with tears in my eyes.

  “No tears, Picasso. This is for you. For us. I wanted everything to be perfect.” He kisses me, soft and gentle, in no hurry to stop.

  “It is perfect,” I sigh as I pull back. There’s a knock at the door and it’s our bags. He tips the bellman and shuts the door. Returning to me, he smiles and opens the closet to reveal a hang up bag.

  “Your mom, and mine, helped.” I make a beeline to the garment bag and he stops me. “Later.” I nod. “Let’s go to lunch.”

  We stroll hand in hand down the streets until we find a seafood restaurant we decide to try. “When we get back, I need you to change and get ready for the evening with no questions.” I tilt my head. “Please?”

  “Yes.” I can’t deny him. I’ve got butterflies in my stomach and I want to ask him a million questions, instead we eat and discuss the turning point for our friends.

  “I bet they’ll be married in six months.” He’s so sure of himself.

  “Married?” I choke. I contemplate that and wonder what my hold up is.

  “Married, Picasso.” He narrows his eyes. “What?”

  “Aren’t we a little young?”

  “You think?” I nod. “He has a baby. Saylor is there day in and day out caring for her— as her own.” I mull his words. “So if I dropped to one knee right now and asked you, you’d say no?”

  “I . . . I don’t think so.” He smiles.

  “Relax. Don’t think it won’t happen one day, though.” He acknowledges.

  Exhilaration. Anxiety. “You want to marry me?”

  “Not today. But someday.” I can picture it. “I’ve been thinking. I’m not ready to tell anyone else, but I don’t think I’m gonna pursue the draft when it’s time.” I gasp in shock.

  “Why?” It’s still two years off but I know he loves ball.

  “I want to go to med school.” This is a dream I hadn’t heard.

  “Since when?” He lowers his eyes and I swear he’s nervous.

  “Always. I never said anything because the game was always the bond between us guys. I love it but I want something else. Medicine fascinates me. Healing. The compassion. All of it. I mean, Deacon isn’t gonna go pro anyway. Mason has a hell of a shot.”

  “So do you, Caden.” I wonder if this is doubt in his ability.

  “I know.” He winks. Definitely not self-doubt. “I love ball. I love being on the field with my friends. But it isn’t the life for me. Not anymore.”

  “Wh-where are you thinking for school?” I know we have years before that moment comes.

  “Vanderbilt. There’s also a med school in St. Louis.” He inhales. “What are you gonna do?”

  Let’s face it . . . I’ll never be a starving artist due to being a trust fund baby, but I want to try it. The only aspect of art that doesn’t get me going is photography. I paint, sketch, sculpt . . . “I want my own studio.”

  “No Masters?” I shake my head. “Tennessee would be perfect for you.” He announces. And it’s settled.

  “I think so, too.” He stands and drops bills to cover the check. “In a hurry?” I tease.

  He checks his watch. It’s three . . . shit we sat here for two hours. “Yes. You have to get ready and we have somewhere to be at five.”

  The dress waiting for me is stunning. I don’t think I can do it justice but I try. It’s Persian blue, cap sleeves, hangs to mid-thigh with a dip neck that shows a bit of cleavage. Underneath is my own surprise . . . white lace. I put my hair up, pinning it off my neck— for him. I step from the bathroom and drink him in. I’m breathless at the sight. Slate gray suit, a tie the perfect shade to match my dress . . . he wears it well. There’s a saying about wearing the clothes and not letting them wear you— it was coined with Caden in mind. His single dimple appears and I want to lick it.

  “Fucking beautiful, Aves.” His mouth . . . it makes mine water.

  “Can you say a compliment without a cuss word?” I shake my head.

  “If it doesn’t involve you— maybe. But baby, I need a new vocabulary to describe you.”

  Puddle.

  On the floor.

  “Yeah . . . you’re pretty fucking hot yourself.” His laugh rumbles from his chest and I slink over to him. “Wanna tell me where we’re going?”

  “Nope. But let’s go.” He distracts me with questions and landmarks during the short walk . . . We stop at the entrance to The Nelson-Atkins Museum of Arts. “Surprise.”

  “Holy fuck.” I whimper. This is a dream. “Really?”

  “Yes, Aves. It closes at five . . . we have a private tour until then.” He winks. “And the rest of the night is still a surprise.” Our escort appears and leads us around. I take in the American Indian exhibit . . . the craftsmanship is extraordinary. The bright beadwork, sturdy baskets, and beautiful pottery . . . it’s all eclectic and exquisite. The sculpture park is located outside and we walk through that. I’m sure he’s bored but he’s listening with apt attention, studying my face. A smile hasn’t disappeared since we arrived. The woman who was escorting us takes her leave and nods at Caden. “We have two hours. Do your worst.” I sigh. One hundred and twenty minutes isn’t enough time . . . but it’ll do.

  He steps back when I study paintings, waiting for my explanation or interpretation. He’s by my side when I explain the lines of a sculpture. He holds my hand as I ramble on, showing him the tombs from the Egyptians and holds me as I discover the contemporary art.

  “I don’t want to leave.” I inhale and close my eyes. Our escorted tour lasted an hour, until closing time. The fact he somehow arranged for two hours, uninterrupted and on our own is no easy feat and I’m beyond grateful.

  “This way.” He doesn’t lead me to the exit doors . . . instead to the Rozelle Court. A table for two is set near the fountain with candles floating in it. Lights are strung and twinkling while a small quartet plays about fifty feet from us.

  “Caden.” I expel. “How? Why?”

  “Easy. And because I love you.” He makes it that simple.

  Love.

  Sure, it could be complicated. Met and deterred with obstacles galore.

  Not with him.

  Not for us.

  He won’t have it.

  Our secrecy could be a hurdle for many . . . he makes it part of the course. We don’t have to climb over anything to get to one another— because he holds my hand the entire way, leading me around the boulders threatening our path.

  “I love you. And back to your question at lunch— I’d say yes. To anything.” His happiness is fast. Complete. Lighting me aflame and keeping me tranquil.

  “Dance?” I grin and take his offered hand. ‘Wherever You Will Go’ is being played— instrumental— but I know it.
“I will. Wherever. However. Forever.” The words are whispered in my ear . . . but they’re loud enough to overtake my heart. If there was one inch, one iota he didn’t own . . . he does now. And if anyone is deserving of my love— it’s Caden Brock Monroe.

  “I love you. I’d follow you anywhere.” I declare.

  “Just to Tennessee. Where we make our home. Together.”

  Arriving back in the room, he leads me to the chaise lounge and stares in my eyes. “Beautiful. No matter what you wear— but in blue it’s extra . . .” I know he’s referring to the night during Spring Break. He holds my hands as I slip my shoes off. His hands skirt down my sides, entwining our fingers and lifting my arms up. He removes the dress in one upward stroke and I’m standing in front of him— wearing white lace.

  “Fuck.” See, there’s his mouth. Wasting no time, he strips my panties down, my bra off and I’m resting in the chair, legs draped over his shoulders. “Slow.” He says. His mouth encloses my core, licking, sucking— feasting on me. He tilts his head and leaves open-mouthed kisses down the inside of my thighs, alternating sides and pushing me to ecstasy. His fingers hold me open, and his tongue brings me to orgasm. Gentle flicks, easy nibbles and light sucking. Coming down, he picks me up and brings me to the bathtub, filled with scented water and rose petals.

  I’m placed in the perfect water and he climbs in, settling me to his chest. Kneading my muscles, pressing kisses on my skin, I’m pampered and loved— like only Caden can do. Our skin is pruning and he extracts us, holding me in his arms as he walks us to the bed. It’s been turned down and candles burn in here . . . he’s pampering me. “You’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

  He shrugs. “There won’t be anyone else.” His body descends to mine. His lips overtake mine. His heart beats a rhythm same as mine. “Slow.” And that’s what he gives me.