He smiled. “Little bit of syrup.”
“Oh. Uhm,” I said, while I stared at him. Temporarily distracted, I tried to think about what I was going to ask. “So, why do you say the military was better than the family you left?”
He took another bite of bacon and glanced through the window. I couldn’t tell whether he was stalling, but the look in his eyes hardened for a minute. When he turned back to me, still chewing, he didn’t seem any more eager to answer.
“You don’t have to answer,” I said, trying to diffuse that rather personal question. I wasn’t sure why I wanted to know. But it seemed like if we were sitting in a diner in the middle of nowhere discussing our lives, then it was fair to ask given his statement earlier.
“I don’t drink if you haven’t noticed.”
My eyes had been solidly on the plate in front of me until he said that. Glancing up, I shook my head.
“Well, I did. Eh, start over. My parents were alcoholics.”
“Okay.”
He shrugged. “So, I didn’t have the best childhood. Some neglect, some abuse, alcohol thrown into the mix, and it wasn’t the place I wanted to be. And since my parents thought it was okay to intoxicate their kid, and later on just didn’t care when I developed a taste for it, I became an alcoholic too. Genetics at its finest. But there was a lot of abusive conditioning that sort of led to that inevitable fucking conclusion.”
“But you don’t drink anymore?” I asked tentatively.
“No. Haven’t had a drop since,” he thought for a moment. “Jesus. In years. Not since the military anyway.”
I tilted my head, considering his answer. “But you work around alcohol all the time. In bars and clubs. Isn’t that kind of hard?”
He nodded. “Every damn day. But I’m good at it. I don’t frequently sub as a bartender. Only if I’m honestly forced to due to lack of employees like tonight.”
“Fuck,” I responded, unsure of how he managed to control it.
“I would rather be doing that with you right now, if you’re asking,” he said, with a mischievous look in his eye.
I rolled my eyes. “I just don’t know how you do it.”
“Discipline. I find other things to be addicted to. Like the gym, and healthy eating. Although, I might have found a new addiction.”
“Please don’t tell me it’s the pancakes. Your healthy eating being ruined over pancakes, will be my fault, and I can’t live with the guilt.”
He laughed, flashing a wide smile at me. “Yeah, no. This was my one and only walk on the wild side for a long time. I’m swearing off Snickers pancakes for life.”
“Chili cheese fries?”
He grinned. “Maybe next year I’ll have some, but they’ve got to be really, really good if I’m going to break my rules.”
“So, what have you found to be addicted to now?”
“You.”
A tingling sensation started in my belly and spread like wildfire. It was the most surreal experience. Cade, addicted to me. It was quite a rush.
Chapter Eight
I was still pondering that rush three days later, and how it could possibly be true, when I woke up early to the smell of coffee. I found myself wondering yet again, if I’d dreamed up some elaborate fantasy starring Cade.
Cade. Alive. I still couldn’t wrap my mind around it.
Not only alive, but kissing me with those panty dropping lips of his. I couldn’t remember being kissed like that in my entire life. Not even by the loser boyfriend I thought I wanted to marry.
I lay awake for a long time, just stretching in bed. My mother had filled my old room with the things she collected. Everywhere I looked, there were shelves stuffed with something she’d found at garage sales and kept. Teapots, figurines, baby shoes and a hundred different other items. The books were outnumbered significantly. She’d even packed up some items before I’d come home. They were in boxes stacked in the closet to the point where my clothes couldn’t be hung.
To say that she had an issue with throwing things away was an understatement. She wasn’t at the “hoarding” level yet, but I could see her slipping that way if I didn’t make regular visits. It'd just gotten worse since my dad passed.
Whenever I visited, it was the same routine every time. She would pack some things and make some room, then we'd go through the house throwing away things together. Then every time I came back, there would be new things to throw away or donate.
We'd spent the first two days I was back doing what we normally did. Clean, throw away junk, and talk. Eyeing the closet, I wondered if I could get away with throwing out two boxes without her noticing.
I sat up and yawned. Time to get a new job.
Cade had made me promise not to go back to the bar after our impromptu late-night pancakes. If it had been anyone else asking, I would have just blown it off. But there were some good reasons not to go back. All very logical.
First, Cade. I wasn’t sure working with him was a good idea until I could get my head around the fact that he was alive. It wasn’t that I had a hard time pushing through my confusion and just doing my job. I’d already done that. It was trying not to stare at him every five seconds, wanting to throttle him.
That, and his kissing. I shouldn’t have kissed him. Or he shouldn’t have kissed me. I wasn’t sure who started what at this point.
Then there was that whole thing with the serial killer. The entire reason he’d left in the first place. Which, to any normal person, in any normal situation, should outweigh my reservations about seeing Cade again at the club. Oddly, it didn’t.
He said I was his. I’m not sure what I was, other than a woman with no job, and confused beyond belief about what I was going to do with Cade.
I couldn’t figure out whether I wanted to hit him or let him kiss me again.
My phone chimed. Message from Unknown.
Unknown: Emergency phone. Or if you need to talk.
Cade. I saved the number in my cell and set it on the bed.
He said he would try to stay in contact as much as he could. He’d gotten my phone number, address, and email before we left the diner.
I wasn’t sure if he was still away or back in the city. Would we see each other again before he possibly got switched to a different place? He hadn’t said.
Suzanne: Okay.
I stretched again and grabbed a pair of jogging pants off a box beside my bed. After putting on a sports bra and a shirt I wandered into the kitchen.
Mom was sitting at the kitchen table with a piece of toast and a cup of coffee reading the newspaper. Her normally small frame had shrunk in the last year after my dad’s death. She appeared tiny now. Apparently, grief affected both of us in the same way and our appetites bore the brunt of our emotions.
“Hey, Mom.” I said, giving her quick kiss on her head as I passed. “How about some eggs this morning? You want some with cheese?”
She smiled up at me. “Not today, sweetie, my stomach hurts.”
She gave me the same answer every morning.
“Okay, tomorrow then. With pancakes and a lot of syrup. I know you like the sweet stuff.”
She nodded and turned back to the newspaper. “I ate a lot yesterday.”
“Mom, you skipped breakfast, had some yogurt for lunch, and soup for dinner.”
“No,” she said, with a confused expression. “I had the lasagna yesterday. The one we bought from the store.”
Sighing, I moved closer and rubbed her back. “Mama, we haven’t eaten any lasagna since the last time I was here a couple of months ago. Remember?”
“Are you sure? I thought we had salad and a bite of that for lunch.” She shook her head and smiled. “I guess I forgot. Well, we’ll eat something later.”
I grabbed my phone from the bedroom, put it in an arm band and secured it before walking back to the kitchen.
Fiddling with the earbuds I’d plugged into my phone, I glanced at my mom.
“I’m headed out for my jog. I’ll be
back in about thirty minutes or so. Maybe a little longer. Then I’m going over to that bar downtown to see if they have any openings.”
She looked up and smiled at me. “Stop by the college. At least consider some courses.”
“Okay, Mom,” I said as I walked out the door. Casting her one more look, I reminded myself that we had an appointment to see her doctor in a couple of days. Something just felt off.
The morning was still a little dark and cool enough for my short run. I stopped to stretch for a moment before I started jogging down the sidewalk.
A slight breeze made the foliage of the trees rustle as I made my way through the neighborhood. The only other sound I heard this early was the distant traffic from the main street, and my shoes hitting the sidewalk in a repetitive beat.
My mind wandered as I made my way through the sleepy neighborhood, thinking over the last couple of days. My mom had asked me about college a couple of times while we spent some time together. I was more concerned about finding a job and cleaning her house.
Liv had called back. Finally. She’d refused to take back the money, claiming it was all worked out, then had chatted about her son like the money issue was a dead subject. Kate also called to see how I was settling in and gave me the latest news on everyone. Julia was in New Mexico with Holden’s family and out of cell reach according to her, otherwise she might have called. And Andi was apparently very busy with school. All seemed well.
The call to Muse was interesting. I reached Pete and told him about Rick’s letter of reference. He found that news amusing and suggestively said that he might have gotten a lecture from Aiden. That would have made more sense than his sudden change of heart. But when I got Rick on the phone, he was extremely polite, asked after my mother, and seemed genuine. He’d even offered my old job back if I ever wanted it. Odd, but pleasant.
Established in a good rhythm, I concentrated on my breathing as I took two turns toward the park that lay nestled in the middle of the residential area. It was the same route I’d taken for several days that wound through the quiet middle-class neighborhood.
Passing by several houses, lights flashed on as people began to wake up to a new day. A van passed, then a car, but the only thing my brain registered was my breathing and stride.
When I got to the edge of the park I saw a couple walking around the outskirts and another jogger on the far side.
I stopped to put in my earbuds and turn on some classical music before continuing. My phone started ringing so I uncuffed it.
Cade calling.
My eyebrows arched in surprise.
“Hello?” I answered, slightly out of breath.
“Hey, pretty girl.”
“Hey, I thought this was just for emergencies. Everything okay?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, everything is okay. Just wanted to call. Why are you breathing hard?”
I continued striding down the sidewalk.
“I’m walking right now, but I’m out jogging this morning.”
“Ahh, I was just about to head into the gym. I got back late last night and feel like I’ve been cramped in a car for hours.”
I smiled. “Still trying to work off those pancakes?”
“Hey, it takes years of work to look this good, and those fucking pancakes probably set me back a month.”
A small memory of his chest pressed against me while he held me against the wall of his office flashed across my mind. He certainly was keeping up with everything from what I could tell. And that kiss.
I rolled my eyes and tried to think of something else. “How did your trip go?”
He sighed and lowered his voice. “You know that thing that I told you about the strip club out in west Texas?”
“Yeah.”
“They confirmed it was our guy. Meanwhile, I was digging for some leads in all the wrong places. You see how this is going? I run around doing shit work, while this guy keeps running circles around them. So, we’re back to waiting, I guess.”
I frowned and paused as I reached the corner of the park. The couple I’d seen earlier was sitting on a park bench near the center now, and seemed to just be enjoying their solitude.
“How do they know it was the guy?”
“Certain things. Can’t talk about that right now.”
I heard another male voice on the other end of the phone, and Cade give a muffled response.
“Guess you need to get going.”
“Uhm, yeah. Listen, Mick decided to come back with me. He just got off a call. He wants to meet with you later and make sure we’re on the same page about this whole undercover thing.”
I grimaced. “He does? Did you tell him I already agreed not to say anything?”
“Yeah, I did. It’s better to be transparent with these guys. They’re big into protocol and paperwork. He just wants to make sure. He’ll drop by your house and visit with you later.”
“He knows where I live?”
Cade chuckled. “Yeah, babe. They know. Just giving you a heads up.”
“So, you didn’t just call to talk to me.”
“Kill two birds with one stone. And I did just want to talk to you.”
“Alright,” I sighed. “Have to get back to jogging here, anyway.”
“When Mick comes by just remember that you’re mine,” he growled.
I laughed. “What?”
“Hey, I don’t want you to get all cozy with him. He’ll probably hit on you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Uhm, well, okay. I mean it’s not like he doesn’t have my number at this point. So, I guess he doesn’t have to ask for it.”
“Suzanne, not funny.”
“Of course—”
I felt something hit me from behind. My shoulder stung for a moment and the force of the impact made me stumble.
“Oh!”
I turned around and a hand grabbed me.
“Ahh, geez. Sorry, miss.”
The phone forgotten, I regarded the man that caught me before I fell.
The jogger from earlier. He was wearing a pair of running shorts and a tight black t-shirt over his lean body. A pair of brown eyes met mine for half a second.
“Sorry!” he said over his shoulder as he continued running.
“Yeah, no problem.”
I heard Cade yelling from my phone before I put it back to my ear.
“Suzanne! Answer me.”
I grimaced. “Calm down, it was just another jogger. He ran into me. No biggie.”
“Jesus, woman,” he huffed.
“I’m good, Cade, stop barking at me. I think you need a nap more than the gym. Have Mick tuck you in and he can come see me. I have to finish my run because apparently my asshole boss fired me, and I need to go look for a job later.”
Cade growled. “I may come with Mick.”
“Whatever. Gotta go, big guy.”
“Wait—”
I hung up the phone before he could finish. He was hot, he could kiss, and I wanted him, but he needed to chill out.
Irritating him was just a perk.
I strapped my phone in and turned around to go back to the house. Going around the park was a little useless at this point. My body had already cooled down, so it looked like my plans to have a long run were shot. I really did need to find another job sometime today.
When I got back to the house, I noticed my mom had a pile of boxes on the sidewalk to be picked up by the trash service. At least she was proactively trying to clean without my prodding reminders. I felt bad about having to tell her every other day that she needed to get rid of some things.
“Hey, Mom,” I said as I entered the house.
I walked back to my room without hearing a response. I ducked my head in her bedroom door and found it empty.
Walking back toward the kitchen, I noticed she wasn’t out in the backyard either. I frowned and headed over to the garage door. When I opened it, I found her car was missing.
Fucking Bakersville. Where people still left their front doors unl
ocked when they left the house. I was going to have to have a talk with her about it later.
I stripped out of my sweaty clothes and took a long shower.
When I was dressed, I went to the kitchen to snag the paper off the table. I knew where I was headed, but I wanted to double check if there were a few more places to visit for employment that I wasn’t able to find on the internet.
While scribbling down a couple of places, there was a knock at the front door.
When I opened it, I was greeted by a large vase full of flowers. I could see someone’s legs, and a pair of feet, but nothing else due to the size of the arrangement.
“Uhm, hello?”
A squeaky female voice answered back. “Delivery for Suzanne Porter?”
“Oh, yeah, that’s me.”
“Sorry, ma’am. It’s kind of heavy, would you mind grabbing it?”
I hefted the vase out of her hands, set it on the entry table, and frowned at it. It was a spring mix, which seemed like it belonged in a huge mansion, or in the middle of a banquet hall.
The girl beside me had taken a step in the door while I gaped at the monstrosity. Anyone with even a mild allergy to flowers, would have dropped to the floor in a seizure by this point.
“You’re so lucky,” the girl gushed. I turned to her and noticed she was likely in her twenties. Glasses, dark hair with blue streaks, pulled back into a wreck of a ponytail, and her shirt inside out. The expression on her face, was one of complete awe.
“Uhm, was there a card or something? Are you sure you have the right bouquet?”
She smiled at me. “I’m positive. Rush order. Went in early this morning just to make sure it got to you on time. They wanted it delivered at precisely ten.”
She checked her watch. “And it’s ten on the dot. I need you to sign my paper recording the time, so we have another happy, romantic, satisfied customer out there.”
I frowned as she ran out the door, and came back within seconds, hopping on one foot.
“You okay?” I asked as I signed for the flowers.
“Yeah, I think I tripped on one of your sprinklers.”
My eyes flicked behind her to my mother’s semi dead lawn. We’d never gotten around to installing sprinklers. I handed her the clipboard again, watching as she countersigned it and ripped off a yellow copy for me.
Damage: (Lakefield Book 5) Page 8