So, when Cadence was just under four months old, I left with the band for the tour, placing Cadence in the arms of my sister and parents. I knew she was safe and loved, and that was all that mattered. I didn't want to chance anything happening while I was gone. I was paranoid that if I admitted the truth, then the media would stalk my family. And I was honestly afraid to have Grayson find out about it by looking at a magazine that covered the "breaking" news.
Julia saw where I was coming from and completely understood, and Cadence helped fill a void in her heart too. Watching them solidified my decision, even if it didn't make it any easier.
"What are you thinking about?" Mom asked, her sudden appearance in the kitchen taking me by surprise.
"Everything." I sighed, my head dropping into my hands. My hair was tangled and I was still wearing my pajamas. I was a mess, but I was all cried out.
Mom put her arms around me. "I'm sorry about what Grandma said," she said, stroking the hair from my eyes.
"She was right." I laughed, the sound bitter as it echoed throughout the kitchen. "Can't blame her for being right."
"She wasn't right," Mom argued, arching a brow. "You did what you thought was right for Cadence. You made sure that she never went without anything."
I didn't argue with her, even though I didn't agree. What was the good in making sure she never went without anything if I was never there? Cadence spent four years with Julia and she called her Mommy.
I swallowed hard as the memory surfaced.
The town car pulled into the driveway of my family's house. The driver parked and got out, going to the trunk to grab my suitcase for me.
"Thanks, I've got it," I told him, taking it out from his arms. I set off up the walkway, my heart pounding in my chest.
I hadn't been home for eight months. Cadence was a year old. I'd missed her first birthday, although we were celebrating it this weekend. Julia told me that she was starting to walk and talk. I was nervous and excited to see her again.
Pushing open the door, I was greeted with the gentle thumping of Stella's tail against the banister. She was moving slower these days. Stella was suffering from arthritis.
I scratched her ears while I walked toward the living room. Julia was sitting on the carpet, her arms outstretched as Cadence crawled over to her, babbling while bits of drool dropped down her chin and onto the hardwood floor in front of her. Slowly and cautiously, she stood up.
"Mommy, oouk!" Cadence was saying as she took her first tentative steps, straight into Julia's arms, and nuzzled her head into Julia's neck.
Hearing her say that while looking at Julia with eyes wide and full of wonder knocked the wind out of me. I smiled through the pain of my heart squeezing in my chest as I realized that it didn't matter what Cadence called Julia or me. Julia was her mother. Julia was there for the everyday things. Julia rocked her to sleep at night and was there to kiss her in the morning.
Just before our second tour took off, the band was interviewed by Owen O'Malley from the O'Malley At Night show. It was after I'd heard Cadence call Julia Mama. The interview started off harmless enough; Owen O'Malley asked us how it felt to be where we were.
Then, just as I started to relax, I was asked about Cadence. A photo had surfaced of me tearfully kissing her small bundled body goodbye before I left for the first tour, as well as a photo of Cadence and me when she was just over a year old. It was grainy, as if someone had snapped it on their phone. When the photos came up on the screen, I froze.
"Who's the kid?" Owen asked, his white teeth flashing against his tanned skin.
"My niece," I quickly answered, pasting on a smile.
"She looks a lot like you!" Owen pressed, smiling mischievously.
"My sister and I could almost pass for twins." I'd laughed, trying to keep it natural and easy. It was true; we could.
"Well, she's cute as a button and has one incredibly talented aunt! You guys are doing incredible. It's only been a year, and your last two records have topped the charts for months! That's huge!" Owen grinned.
I shook my head, bringing myself back to the present. I blinked up at Mom. She was staring at me expectantly. "Sorry, what did you say?"
"I said, what did he want?" Mom repeated as she crossed over to the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee.
"I don't know." I frowned, my stomach flipping in memory of the feel of his hands and lips on me again. My body hadn't even argued his presence. My body had melted in to him like he'd never hurt me before. But he had hurt me. He had hurt me badly in all the ways that he predicted he would.
I knew that I had only myself to blame, that my reaction to the breakup wasn't Grayson's fault. It wasn’t Grayson’s fault that I loved him as much as I did. It wasn’t Grayson’s fault that his love for me hadn’t been enough, or as strong as mine was for him. I couldn't blame him for leaving if I hadn't been what he wanted.
But still, you'd think after everything he had put me through before, my body wouldn't melt like butter in his hands; my heart wouldn't collapse at his words, desperately wanting to believe them.
"What did he say?" Mom was trying to get me to talk to her, to fill her in on what I was thinking. I knew she wanted me to tell her what the plan was. We had avoided talking about it over the last few days, desperate to grieve and get through the funeral. Now the funeral was over, and the uncertainty of the future loomed over us all.
Grayson's voice invaded my head. My cheeks were warm where his fingers had carefully brushed my tears away. "I know you're going through a lot, and I understand that. I'm not asking you for anything. I just needed to tell you how I felt...I've been carrying it around for years. I never thought you'd come back, but if you did...I just needed to tell you. My feelings for you haven't changed. And I'm here. I want to be here for you."
"It doesn't matter." I sighed heavily. It didn't matter. It didn't matter whether I believed him. It didn't matter because it wouldn't change anything.
I had loved—and lost—Grayson before. I'd experienced the best highs of my life... and the worst lows. It had been a whirlwind love affair that nearly destroyed me. I wouldn't survive a repeat.
"I know you're about to start the tour..." Mom continued as if I hadn't just shut her down. "Cadence is attending school here. Your father and I don't think that it's a good idea for her to move to LA right now. She's just been in an accident and she lost her—Julia." Mom paused, clearing her throat before she met my eyes.
I inhaled slowly, knowing that I couldn't avoid the subject anymore. "I don't want to do the tour." I brushed away a lone tear. "I can't bear leaving, but the venues are already set, the shows are already sold out."
"So what are you going to do?" Mom asked. I had no idea how to answer her question. I knew that if I bowed out of the tour, I would let the guys down...and they didn't deserve that after all they'd done for me. I wasn't concerned about the fines for canceling; I knew I'd lose money if I did it but I didn't care about the money. I had plenty of it—more than enough to cover the fines and still live comfortably. I just didn't want to let them down; they'd be out money too. The whole thing made my brain strain and my stomach tighten with anxiety.
I sighed, massaging my aching temples with my fingers. "I can't think about this right now, Mom. I can't think." I hid my face behind my hands as more tears escaped, spilling onto my fingers. My shoulders shook. Every time I tried to think about what I was going to do, I became so overwhelmed with it all and longed to ask Julia what I should do. It was the worst reminder that she was gone.
Mom pursed her lips, nodding. She understood what I felt.
"Is the truth ever going to come out, Everly?" Mom's question caught me off guard. I took a deep breath, my shoulders shaking slightly. I couldn't meet her eyes.
"My agent thinks it'll be bad for my image for the media to get a hold of the truth. He wants me to act like I took custody of my niece, not re-took custody of my daughter," I said this with a voice void of emotion.
"What d
o you think about that?"
"I don't know, Mom." My brain felt as if it were pushing against my skull, trying to break free and explode everywhere. "I don't care about that anymore. Cadence has always known the truth, and that's always been enough for me."
The cover story I'd given Owen O'Malley was just a way to save my ass and to protect Cadence. And it stuck. As far as my fans knew, I was the aunt and Julia was the mom. Cadence knew the truth—or at least a variation of it. She knew that she came from my tummy and I was her mama; however, she had always referred to Julia as her mommy. We’d never corrected her because essentially, she was right.
It was like a weird version of the game of house we used to play as kids. I spoiled Cadence like a part-time parent would. I invited my sister and Cadence up to LA whenever our schedules correlated. I bought her the best birthday and Christmas presents and I showered her with affection every chance that I got. I truly loved that child more than anything because everything I did was for her. Almost all of my money went directly into a high-yield savings account for Cadence's future.
But Julia was Mommy. Julia was the one who kissed skinned knees and brushed away cranky tears. Julia was the one who was there for all of it; the good, the bad, and the mundane. And she deserved that title.
Mom exhaled heavily. She couldn't think of a solution for our predicament either. None of us could have possibly ever imagined something so tragic happening, leaving us helpless and defeated as to what should be done next.
"Are you going to tell him?" she asked, her voice soft and gentle.
I stared at the remaining contents of my cold coffee. "It wouldn't change anything." My jaw trembled.
"I think he deserves to know the truth," Mom said sagely.
"How do I tell him the truth?"
"By using your voice." Mom shrugged, smiling sadly.
***
I left Cadence with my parents while I drove to the house that Julia had rented. I'd tried to buy them a house, but Julia refused to accept that kind of help. I was headed there to start packing up. There was no reason to keep the apartment; Cadence was going to stay at my parents' for a bit, and so was I. The landlord had been excessively calling my dad, demanding to know what was going to happen to his unit.
Some people had no tact. I decided to handle it before my father had an aneurysm.
I was hit with another memory as I pulled my parents’ car into a free parking spot.
"You're already giving me enough money for Cadence. She doesn't need half of what you give!" Julia argued. We were talking on the phone, miles away from each other.
"The rest is for you, for whatever you need. A sitter so you can go on a date, maybe," I hinted.
Julia laughed, the sound rich over the phone. "I don't need a man. I have BOB."
"Bob?" I repeated, frowning. I hadn't heard of a Bob before. Maybe they'd just met.
"Battery Operated Boyfriend." I could hear her smirking over the phone. I snorted with laughter. "Besides," Julia's voice quieted my laughter as I waited for her to continue, "I don't like bringing too many guys around. It's confusing for Cadence."
"Oh, right." I hadn't thought of that. It just proved in my head that Julia was better suited for the job than I was...
A gentle tapping against the window startled me from the memories. I wiped at my cheeks, startled to see that I'd been crying again, and rolled down the window.
"Are you Tom?" I asked, eyeing the elderly gentleman. Tom Grady was the name of Julia's landlord. He was a short old man, his back curving forward. Gray hairs sprouted from his ears and he wore a brown tweed newspaper boy hat that matched his trousers and jacket.
The man nodded solemnly. He waited until I'd rolled the window back up and stepped outside to speak. "I'm sorry about your loss," he said, his voice gruff and hoarse, as if he wasn't in practice of using it often.
"Yeah, thanks," I said, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. If he was so sorry, he really had a funny way of showing it. "I'm sorry for pressuring you about the unit. But I do need to know what's going on, and I'm sick of taking care of that damn cat."
"What damn cat?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.
"They've got a cat," Tom croaked, using his key to unlock the unit door. "It's an asshole. Keeps scratching me when I try to feed it."
"Sorry," I said, peering around him and looking in to the apartment. Julia kept the apartment fairly clean. There was clutter here and there, toys and discarded sweaters, the usual mess that came when you had a kid. I watched as a tabby darted from under the couch to the hallway off to the left of the living room, disappearing from sight.
Tom left me to it, handing over the spare key and asking me to give him an update on when everything would be cleared out. I stood alone in the middle of the tiny living room, wondering where to begin.
Chapter Six
Grayson
AFTER BREAKFAST, I pulled up to Katrina's house. She hopped out of the truck and stood in the driveway, holding the door open.
"What?" I demanded. I knew I hadn't exactly been the greatest company at breakfast; I'd been quiet, staring off into space and thinking about Everly. When I wasn't lost inside my own head, I was acting like a miserable, antsy prick. I couldn't help it. Knowing that I was so close to her and yet so far drove me absolutely insane.
"I’d better not see you at the bar tonight," Katrina said, her voice dangerous.
"Don't worry, I think I've had enough of your company," I retorted, smirking at the offended look on her face.
She shook her head, smiling as she slammed the door. "Asshole," I saw her mutter as I pulled away.
I had a long list of fuck all to do, and I sort of wanted to get to it. I turned on to the main road and drove for a few minutes before my eyes were drawn to the painted on jeans and long slender legs that I forever pictured in my dreams, wrapped around me while I sank deep inside her.
Everly was carrying boxes out to the silver Subaru parked in the driveway of a house. One of Tom Grady's rentals, from the look of it. I'd done a renovation on the back deck the year before.
She leaned forward, placing the box she'd been carrying into the trunk. I swallowed hard and pulled my truck up to the curb. She didn't look my way until she heard my door slam shut, the sound bursting the quiet early November morning.
Everly brushed her hair out of her eyes, squinting against the sun. Her eyes widened with surprise as she took in the sight of me walking over to her. She was dressed in tight jeans and a soft gray thermal shirt that clung to her breasts and her taunt stomach. I admired the curves of her body, not bothering to hide the desire I knew was apparent in my eyes. I wore it all over my face; there was no point in trying to deny it, and I didn't want to.
The hairs on my arms stood up on end as she returned the coveted look, her eyes pausing on the buckle of my jeans before rising quickly to my face, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks. She shivered, either from the cold or from seeing me standing in front of her. Looking into my eyes didn't seem to help her uneasiness. She turned away, staring at my truck.
"New truck?" she asked. I glanced back at it, the heavy 4x4 quad cab I'd bought to haul my equipment around. It said Dixon Construction on the side.
"Yeah," I answered almost uneasily as I turned my head back to her. I didn't tell her that I still had the old forest green truck, that I'd held on to it all these years...and probably would hold on to it forever. Hell, the halo from Everly's angel costume still hung off the rearview mirror, so I would always be reminded of her when I looked back. As if I could forget.
I swallowed hard. That was the night I realized that my feelings for Everly were more than just lust, although that was definitely there...tenfold. I cleared my throat, trying to draw my thoughts away from the memory of her beneath me, waiting and ready.
"It's nice," she said. There was an awkward pause that came from a million words left unsaid. I stepped towards her and she stepped back; like a prelude to a dark dance.
"What are you doing he
re?" I asked, glancing up to the house.
"My sister rented this place. I'm cleaning it out."
"By yourself?" I asked, my brow furrowing.
She shrugged, avoiding my gaze. "It has to get done," she said simply.
"You shouldn't have to do this alone," I told her. "I can help."
"That's not necessary, Grayson," she said stiffly, turning around and walking back inside. She left the door open, and I followed warily after her, waiting to see if she'd protest my presence. When she didn't, I let out the breath I had unknowingly held at the sight of her walking away from me.
She stood in the middle of the half-packed living room, her back to me as her shoulders shook. She was cradling her face in her hands. The sight of her pain made me ache worse than anything I'd experienced over the last five years...and those years had been hell.
"Everly..." I breathed her name, closing the space that separated me from her. My arms wrapped around her from behind. I brought my hands up to cup hers, holding her tight. She fell apart there, safely tucked into my arms. I lowered us to the ground, amid the furniture and boxes.
I didn’t know how long we stayed there like that, with me holding Everly while she released her grief and confusion. There was more behind her tears than the loss of her sister. That was there, and that was raw and sharp... but there was more beneath that. I could taste her lingering heartbreak just as easily as I could taste mine.
Finally, Everly shifted out from under my arms. She timidly used her palms to dry her cheeks, avoiding my penetrating gaze. We were still on the floor, my legs on either side of her and her legs folded beneath her.
She took a shaky breath. "Thanks," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. I leaned forward, gently brushing her hair back from her face. Although her eyes were red-rimmed from crying and her cheeks were blotchy, she was still the most incredible kind of beautiful. Not only did I ache with desire for her; it was the need of healing her broken heart that resurfaced in my mind. I wanted to bring the smile and the light back into her eyes, the smile that my dumbass seventeen-year-old-self had extinguished.
Reckless Abandon (Damaged #2) Page 6