Write Me Home

by Crystal Walton

  “Sure he would’ve.”

  Her smile drifted into a pensive stare across the field. “I can’t believe you were here as a camper. You really don’t remember it?”

  “Come to think of it.” He rubbed his jaw. “I do recall this one feisty redhead who smoked all the boys in tree climbing.”

  Lips pursed, she shoved him.

  “Kidding.” He laughed. “It was just one week when I was five. I don’t remember much.” Yet he still felt connected to the camp—to her—more than he could explain. Longing inside him grew as he took in the sight of her beneath the deck light’s soft glow.

  She rubbed her arms.

  “Cold?”

  “A little.”

  He edged closer. If she wouldn’t pull away again, he’d close her in his arms right now. Keep her warm, safe.

  She dodged his eyes and fidgeted with the buttons on her sweater.

  Blowing out a breath, he faced the stars and then nodded across the deck. “Let’s get inside. I’ll make you a fire.”

  At the door, she jerked her hand away from the handle. “Sorry. It’s wet.”

  He cupped her wrist and held her hand under the light.

  Her face paled. “Is that blood?”

  His pulse hammered. He scooted her behind him and opened the door. Sandy galloped down the hall toward them. What was he doing inside?

  Something crashed in the bathroom, followed by a shriek.

  “Ti.” Cassidy shoved around him and sprinted toward the sound.

  “Cass, wait.” He ran after her.

  They both whipped around the bathroom doorway. In her pajamas, Ti sat on her hands and knees while picking up shards of a broken wine bottle.

  Cassidy flew to her side. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Go away.”

  Ethan scoured the halls to check for any indication that someone else was there. Finding no one, he jogged back to the bathroom.

  “Dang it.” Ti dropped a piece of glass and drew her finger to her mouth, careful not to touch a gash on her lip.

  “Leave it.” Cass brushed back the hair matted in blood on Ti’s cheek where she must’ve smeared it with her hand. “Talk to me. What happened?”

  She pushed away. “The same thing that always happens in my non-responsible life.” She rose and stormed past Ethan through the doorway.

  He shot an anxious glance at Cassidy.

  Compassion took over her eyes. With a gentle touch to his shoulder, she passed him on her way after her friend. “Ti.”

  Maybe this was a girl moment, but he wasn’t ready to leave their sides. He leaned against the trim to Ti’s bedroom, heart finally slowing. Beside him, Sandy panted and licked his hands. “Good boy,” he whispered. At least he had some backup to guard the house if he needed it.

  Ti buried a pillow in her arms. “I don’t need to hear any I-told-you-so speeches right now.”

  Cass settled alongside her on the bed. “How about the you’re-not-alone speech?” She stroked Ti’s hair. “C’mon. Don’t make me sing it.”

  Hiding a smile, Ti rested her cheek on Cassidy’s leg. “We’re not twelve anymore, Cass.”

  She curved Ti’s hair around her ear. “Good thing our song’s for life.” Humming at first, she drew circles over Ti’s back with her fingertips. Notes slowly turned into lyrics. “When the lights turn dark and the shadows deep, close your eyes and drift to sleep. To the place of dreams that sweep us away, together we run. Best friends, always.”

  Ti’s tear-coated voice joined Cassidy’s as they sang together.

  Ethan slipped out of the doorway and backed against the wall while the tender song washed over him. Could he fall for this girl any harder?

  The song gradually waned. Ti sniffled. “Everything was fine until they wanted to shoot up,” she said. “I couldn’t, Cass. Hitting me wasn’t gonna change that.”

  Ethan’s jaw twitched. Any man who hit a woman deserved ten times worse.

  “You’re the brave one.” The same level of compassion in Cassidy’s eyes earlier filled her words. “You know that, right?”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s you.”

  Silence stretched. Ethan didn’t move, afraid to interrupt.

  Ti sighed. “Why do the things we long for so much leave us this empty?”

  A squeak from the mattress springs filled the pause.

  “Maybe we’re looking in the wrong places,” Cass whispered back.

  Sandy broke free from his grasp and trotted into the room. Ethan turned the corner, flashing them a look of apology.

  Ti ruffled the dog’s ears. “Sorry about letting him in. I didn’t want to be alone.”

  “It’s fine.” Cass kissed the top of her head.

  Ethan backed up and strode for the kitchen. He hadn’t meant to stand there the whole time, eavesdropping. But the way Cass cared for her . . . He couldn’t pull himself away.

  In the kitchen, he went straight for the coffeemaker. As much as Ti loved coffee, maybe that was one way he could help. He’d poured two cups by the time Cass strolled in.

  She slid him a smile. “That espresso wasn’t enough caffeine for ya?”

  “It’s decaf. I made some for Ti.” He handed her the mug. “Would you mind?”

  Nodding, she took the mug and then disappeared back down the hall.

  Ethan fixed one more cup in case she wanted one, too. Several minutes later, she flitted back in on a path leading to the coffeemaker. He arched a brow. “That espresso wasn’t enough for ya?”

  She shrugged. “It’s like comfort food.”

  Couldn’t argue with that. He set his spoon down. “You’re an amazing friend, you know.”

  “I’ve always kind of played the big sister role, I guess.” She sat on the counter overlooking the mess hall, something unspoken visibly weighing on her.

  “What is it?”

  She let out a breath. “Ti wants you to know about her past, but . . . it’s not pretty.”

  He shifted on the counter beside her, as if there were some position that’d make hearing whatever it was easier to handle.

  Cass cupped her hands around the mug and took a sip. “She stayed over at my house a lot. Her parents were total meth heads. It got to where they’d sell anything for crystal. Even themselves.” She ran her nail over a stain on the rim of the mug. “And whenever her mom got too sick to turn tricks . . .”

  The implication turned Ethan’s blood cold.

  “No kid should have to go through the things she has.” Years of sorrow turned her eyes glassy. “The worst part is, when you’re used for so long, you start to believe that’s all you’re worth.”

  The tremor in her voice shook with such empathy, he had a feeling she was speaking from experience. He almost crushed his mug at the thought.

  “When you can’t escape reality, you learn to make your own.” She set her coffee down and gripped the counter. “She unofficially changed her name from Trina to Treble to spite her parents. But then it became part of her identity, a place to hide. Music spread into photography, writing, anything beautiful enough to paint over the darkness.”

  Pieces of Ti’s story fused together, making so much sense it hurt. And the fact that, yet again, Cassidy’s life had forced her to grow up much sooner than she ever should have carved an ache into his chest he didn’t know how to stop.

  “I’m so sorry, Cass. Thank God for the grace that carried you both through all that.”

  “Grace?” Her eyes hardened. “Where was grace when Ti’s parents left her in a back room with some drug dealer?”

  Didn’t she see? He moved closer and took her hands. “Here. In a friend who was there when she needed someone to help her feel safe and believed in.” Like she was doing for him? His stomach tightened at the realization.

  “I wish I could’ve been enough for her.” With a pained smile, she slid off the counter. “I think I’m going to go bunk with her tonight. As long as Sandy left me some room.” She stopped in the doo
rway and looked behind her. “Thanks for earlier, Ethan. I had a good time.”

  He dipped his head, and she drifted out, taking the undone pieces of his heart with her. He didn’t move. The clock’s second hand ticked into the silence on its way to morning, but he wasn’t anywhere near ready for sleep.

  He wandered out to the deck. Fog coated the quiet field and obscured the line of pine trees, his thoughts just as hazy.

  Ti’s experience burned him. Both of theirs did. He’d rewrite Cassidy’s past in a second if he could, undo the scars it killed him to know she had. At least he could be here for her now.

  He ran his hand over a damaged section of the stucco siding. Maybe Nonna was right about being here for a reason. He might not get to pick his assignments. Or fully understand them. But if some small part of this one included Cass, he’d choose it again and again. Even if it meant he’d end up with scars of his own.

  chapter fourteen

  Alone

  Half-awake, Ethan trudged downstairs toward the smell of coffee. A staccato tapping noise coming from behind the office door stopped him short as he rounded the banister. What was she doing in there, banging on a typewriter?

  He tucked his sketchbook under his arm and rubbed his temples. It wasn’t her fault he woke up this morning with a headache. He was the one who’d stayed up half the night working. Good thing he knew the cure. The vision of sitting on the deck with his coffee and sketchpad drove his feet toward the kitchen.

  Ti handed him a mug as soon as he passed through the doorway. “Returning the favor.”

  “Thanks.” He breathed in the steam, took a sip, and nodded. “Not bad.”

  Ti laced her hands around her own mug and curled up on a chair at the breakfast table. The bruise on her cheek made his stomach churn again, but she simply smiled as though nothing had happened.

  Cassidy’s comment from last night hit him square in the chest. “When you can’t escape reality, you learn to make your own.” Ti had pretty much said it herself the other day. Everyone dealt with pain differently. But that didn’t make it easy to watch.

  “Jax, get off the keyboard already,” Cass yelled from the office.

  The cat bounded down the hall and skidded into the kitchen, claws scratching across the tiles. With huge green eyes, he wandered up to Ethan and meowed.

  “Sorry, dude. I know better than to be a conspirator.”

  “Come here, Jax. I’ll love on you.” Ti scooted her chair back and swept him into her lap. He circled around twice before nestling up to her stomach.

  The typewriter noise echoed down the hall.

  “What’s she doing in there?”

  Ti munched on her cereal. “Crunching numbers. She’s been plunking away on that adding machine for the last hour.”

  An adding machine? That couldn’t be good. Maybe some breakfast would help. He left his sketchbook on the table and got to work at the stove.

  Cass shuffled in right as he flipped the second omelet. Beside him, she opened two cabinets and pulled out a bowl and a box of Cheerios.

  He stretched a hand over the bowl while nodding at the pan of eggs. “Hold that thought.”

  “Okaaay.” She flashed him a curious expression, returned the cereal, and plopped onto the chair across from Ti. The second she sat down, Jax abandoned one lap for the other. He obviously hadn’t been that put out earlier. The cat was loyal to her. Ethan would give him that.

  He slid the omelet off the pan onto Cass’s plate and motioned to Ti. “Want one?”

  “I’m good.” She carried her cereal bowl to the sink. “I’m gonna get a head start on staining the deck.” The side door closed behind her and whisked in a cool morning breeze.

  Maybe work would keep her mind off things. It usually did for him.

  Ethan joined Cass at the table and set a cup of coffee in front of her. She bit into her omelet, lashes fluttering. He tried not to laugh. He really needed to show these girls how to cook before the summer ended. “Good?”

  “Mm hmm.” She nudged a piece of ham off her lip. “You have no idea.”

  And she had no idea how attractive she was. He diverted his gaze from her lips to his omelet.

  “So, what’s with the drawings?” She reached for his sketchbook.

  He hurried down a swallow. “Nothing. Just something I got into as a kid.”

  She flipped through the pages and eyed him like she’d caught him in a lie. “That’s not nothing, Ethan. That’s talent.”

  Between her compliment and his hot coffee, heat climbed up his neck to his ears. He folded his napkin back and forth. “I don’t usually show people my sketches.”

  “Why? They’re incredible.”

  He moved his hands to his lap. His napkin-turned-accordion sprawled open, his insides even more undone. “After working with Habitat, I got interested in architecture for a while. Thought I might’ve had the skill for it. But, I don’t know, I . . .”

  She froze with her fork halfway to her mouth.

  Did he say something wrong? “Never mind. It’s stupid.” He waved it off. “Daydream stuff.”

  “It’s not stupid.” She dragged the last piece of her omelet around her plate with her fork and waited a minute before looking up again. “Why haven’t you pursued it?”

  “I have a job.” He slumped against the back of his chair.

  Her intuitive gaze peeled him apart a layer at a time. He couldn’t hide anything from her.

  He scratched his jaw, the cat dander getting to him. “I almost applied to Cornell once, but my life took a different direction.” He shrugged. “No looking back, remember?”

  Elbows on the table, she angled her head. “You can still change the future.”

  “That ship sailed a long time ago, Cass.” He rose and headed to the sink. He’d made his choices in life. For better or worse.

  She scooched her chair back, sending Jax off her lap and down the hall. Beside Ethan, she turned on the faucet and swirled her fingers over the plate while staring at the backsplash. Her forehead pinched. What was she thinking about?

  “You okay?”

  “Hmm?” She blinked toward him. “Yeah, fine. Lost in thought.”

  Clearly. She’d been off since she came out of the office. He hated seeing her stressed. Especially when she wouldn’t talk to him about it.

  He leaned against the counter. “Why don’t we take the day off?”

  A deadpan stare answered that one.

  “A half day?”

  She squirted soap into the water, the question apparently not needing a response.

  “Okay, fine. At least take a quick walk with me before we start working.” He grabbed her hand, but she held on to the sink with the other.

  “I have to do these dishes.”

  “They’ll be there later.” He tugged again.

  “I’ve never left them undone.”

  “Wait, what?” He studied her guilty face. “You mean, like, ever?”

  She let go of his hand. “In the city, you learn not to leave dirty dishes out, all right?”

  He blocked the image of roaches crawling all over her counters. “Good call. But we’re not in Queens right now.”

  Grinning, she crossed her arms. “Not all of us are slobs, like you.”

  He feigned a look of offense. “Me?”

  “Mm hmm. I’ve been in your Jeep, and I’ve walked by your room, Pigpen. Definite slob material.”

  He returned her grin. “What’s the point of making your bed if you’re gonna get right back in it that night?”

  She rolled her eyes, and he grabbed her hand again. “C’mon. It’s good to let your hair down sometimes.”

  Resigning this time, she followed.

  They strolled side by side toward the softball field. Without her bandana on, her long curls flowed around her face and down her back. Free, no restraint. Exactly the way he wanted her to feel. She had every reason not to take people at their word. He only hoped showing her how much he cared would be enough to earn
her trust. He had to try.

  “So, what was that crazy accountant scheme you had going on earlier?”

  The slightest hint of pink covered her freckles. “Sorry about making all that noise. I was going through the books, trying to get a feel for cash flow. There’s this consistent monthly deposit I can’t account for.”

  She let out a gruff exhale. “We’re not talking chump change, either. From what I can tell, it’s pretty much been floating the camp for the last twenty-plus years, right up until Grandpa died. But there are no records of who it’s from.” She threw her hands in the air. “It’s so frustrating. Why would a donor want to stay anonymous for that long?”

  “Who knows? Lots of people like to keep their finances private.”

  “Maybe. But the person obviously cares about the place. If they’d been willing to support the camp before, maybe they still will be. Lord knows we could use it.” She broke off a twig from a tree lining the driveway and twisted it while they walked. “I put in a call to one of my business contacts to see if she can trace the deposits. Worth a try, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She tossed the twig into the woods. “I mean, it might be a long shot, but . . .” Her feet slowed in front of the path. She darted a glance from the mended bridge back to him.

  Smiling, he pointed ahead of them. “C’mon.”

  She stopped on the other side of the footbridge, wide-eyed. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

  “A little.” A small price to pay to show her she wasn’t alone in this. He walked to the home plate he’d set up after mowing the field.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  He rubbed his cheekbone as she sauntered over. “Most people say thank you when someone helps them out.”

  “I’ve never been very good at that.”

  He faked a look of shock. “You’re kidding.”

  She shoved him.

  Laughing, he stumbled backward into the rock wall. “It’s okay to accept help from people, you know. Not everyone expects something in return.”

  She settled on the rocks and stared across the field. “Guess it’s easier to expect the worst in people. You avoid disappointment that way.”