“Think he torched it.”
Monroe’s smile flashed before she turned and ran toward the grove of pines. The moon lit on her blond hair, making her run across the field look like something out of a fairy tale.
He waited until she was out of sight to begin his less magical limp back toward his uncle Delmar’s flat-bottomed boat. His uncle and brother were arguing in low voices by the time he made it down the bank.
Sawyer stood, rocking the boat from side to side in the shallow water. “Where have you been?”
“Busy,” Cade said shortly, his boots squelching in the mud. He claimed the narrow seat in the front and massaged his knee.
“You okay?” Sawyer asked. Delmar got the engine purring, and they set off in the middle of the river. The slight current pushed them home faster than their approach.
“I will be once I’m home with an ice pack and a beer. What happened to you? Regan catch you?”
“Rabbit handed. She jumped out of a bush wearing a damn cardigan and dress shoes screaming like the church was burning down. The rabbits went nuts, probably expecting her to rip them open with bare hands. And she might have if it wouldn’t endanger her manicure.”
“What did you do?”
“Dropped the mother-flipping rabbits and ran. She was on me like a crazed monkey. I had to pin her to the ground to settle her down.”
“You look fine to me. How’d you manage to escape?”
“She stopped trying to maim me.” Sawyer’s voice turned vague and distant.
After an awkward amount of silence, it became clear Sawyer wasn’t planning to elaborate and Cade glanced over his shoulder at their uncle. “What about you, Uncle Del?”
“Sawyer and Regan raised such a ruckus, I was able to walk right up to that pretty little garden and drop my boys right over the fence. Old Nash Hawthorne was standing there drinking a beer.”
“Did he spot you?”
“Considering he offered me a cold one, I’d say so, but he didn’t raise the alarm. Maybe he still holds a soft spot for his birthplace.” Del pulled a beer bottle from the side pocket of his pants and uncapped it against the side of the boat.
“Did you get your pair into the garden, Cade?” Sawyer asked.
“Nope.”
“Regan said Monroe was out there somewhere. You run across her?”
“Yep.”
“A veritable fountain of information. As usual.” The antipathy in Sawyer’s voice had Cade sitting up straighter and leaning forward.
“What do you mean by that?”
Sawyer sat there for a moment before erupting like the top of a pressure cooker. “I got a call from some stranger about your accident. And only because you had me listed as next of kin on some ancient card in your climbing pack. Once you broke free from Cottonbloom, you broke free from me and Tally.”
The exchange took a detour Cade hadn’t anticipated. “If either one of you ever needed help, I was there.”
“Sure. Free with your money and advice.” Sawyer shook his head and looked to the bank. “I don’t even know you, Cade. Not really. I felt like I lost my brother, too, after Mom and Dad died.”
Cade had closed himself off for a reason—to protect his little brother and sister. A knee-jerk anger sharpened his words. “Look, I’m home now—”
“For how long? Another week or two?”
“I’m planning to stay for a while.” Until that moment he’d existed in a strange limbo between past, present, and future, but now the words were out he felt planted. He wouldn’t lie to himself. Part of why he wanted to stick around longer than he’d originally intended was Monroe, but his siblings made the choice an easy one. “If you don’t have any objections, I was thinking about getting one of my current projects shipped down. Maybe you could help me figure some stuff out considering you’re the one with the fancy degree.”
“I suppose that’d be okay.” He sounded like Cade had offered to pluck his fingernails out one by one.
Their uncle either couldn’t hear them or didn’t want to involve himself. He deftly steered them downriver, avoiding the logs that could catch the motor blades. The enjoyment Cade had felt being back on the river had faded into a headache, Sawyer’s accusations rubbing like sandpaper.
Cade had held Sawyer and Tally as they cried but never cried in front of them. He was the oldest and had to be the strongest. That didn’t mean he hadn’t cried into his pillow more nights than he could count.
He’d cried because he missed the way his mother had brushed his hair before school even after he was old enough to do it himself. He missed the way his daddy had patted his shoulder when he’d brought home his report card and the way the small gesture had made him swell with pride. He missed the ease with which life had flowed, one day much like the last, some better than others but none hard.
Their uncle brought the boat to ground close to where Cade had left the old truck. Sawyer hopped out and was up the bank before Cade maneuvered over the side with his sore knee. “Thanks, Uncle Delmar. You have any more trouble with the engine, you bring it around.”
His uncle chucked his chin in acknowledgement. “Push me off, would you, boy?”
Cade watched his uncle disappear around the first bend, shoved his hands into his pockets, and joined Sawyer in the truck. By the time they got back to the house, Sawyer’s aggression had turned pensive, his answers to Cade’s probing questions monosyllabic.
Tally was inside, leaning against the kitchen counter and popping cherry tomatoes like candy. Sawyer ignored her greeting and disappeared up the stairs. Tally turned to Cade and put her hands on her hips. “What the heck happened?”
He shucked his mud-caked boots and stepped inside. “We got caught.”
She covered her mouth with both hands, muffling her words. “By the police?”
If Chief Thomason had nabbed them, Cade would have fulfilled his youthful lack of promise in the chief’s eyes. “By Regan Lovell.”
“Lord have mercy.” Tally pulled out two long-necked ice-cold beers and plunked them on the table. He limped to a chair, and without him having to ask she opened the freezer and rooted around. He caught the ice pack on her toss, laid it over his knee, and grunted, curving his bad hand over the top. The numbing relief was immediate.
She joined him at the table, and they sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking their beers. This was the first beer they’d ever shared. She hadn’t been legal when he’d left, and the two times he’d flown her to Seattle for a visit he’d never thought about hanging out with her like a friend. Instead, he’d packed her days with sightseeing, joining her if he wasn’t too busy.
Cade studied her from under his lashes. “Do you think I’ve been selfish?”
Without taking her eyes off him, she took a slow draw on her beer before setting it down with a thud. “How so?”
The fact that she hadn’t come out with a No way or Of course not was answer enough.
“You should have gone to LSU.”
Her attention transferred to picking at the bottle’s label. “I wasn’t like Sawyer. My grades weren’t good enough.”
“You could have gotten a track scholarship. If not at LSU, then somewhere smaller.”
Tally was tall and agile and fast. She’d set several school records her senior year in cross-country, but she’d always blown off his suggestions of applying for an athletic scholarship.
“Maybe, but I wouldn’t have been able to keep up with the schoolwork. Gracious, I could barely keep up in high school.”
“What are you talking about? You’re a math genius.”
“One subject. My English composition teacher gave me a C minus out of pity. I should’ve flunked and not even earned my diploma. Social studies, history … I barely squeaked by any subject that required reading. Can I tell you something without you freaking out?”
He wanted to say no. Monroe had already twisted the supposed truths from his memories, and he had a feeling Tally was ready to shatter them. “Sure.”<
br />
“I was diagnosed with dyslexia my junior year of high school.”
He half-rose out of his chair, the ice pack falling to the floor. “Why didn’t I know this? The school should have—”
“They did. I forged your signature on everything. Apparently, mine is mild to moderate, which is why it went undiagnosed so long.” She huffed a sigh. “And I thought I was just stupid all those years.”
He forced himself to sit, mostly because his knee throbbed. What he really wanted to do was pace and lecture and maybe beat up anyone who had made her feel dumb. That wasn’t his role anymore. “Who said you were stupid?”
“No one had to tell me. I watched you and Sawyer read a book in one sitting when it would take me an hour to decipher a few pages. It was easier to not like reading, to find my own thing.”
“Sports.”
“The gym has been good. I’m not an idiot when it comes to business plans and money.”
“You’re not an idiot, period. Jesus, Tally, we could have gotten you more help. I see those services advertised all the time.”
She shook her head and scraped the label off the sweating beer. “I checked into it. We couldn’t afford it. Not without you working even harder, and I couldn’t ask you to do that. You deserved to have a life outside of taking care of me and Sawyer.” The magnanimous way she said it wove a sense of cowardice through the guilt.
“No matter what I’m doing or how far away I am, if you ever have a problem or need anything you can count on me.”
Tally leaned over and gave him a one-armed hug. “I know. But Sawyer and I are doing fine. We don’t want you to sweep into town to fix our problems. Let us help you and just … be our brother.”
His mouth opened and closed. Not sure how to respond, he apologized even though he wasn’t quite sure what he was apologizing for. For leaving? For coming home? For not trying hard enough? “I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for. Have you decided how long you’re staying in Cottonbloom?” She turned her intense green eyes on him. It was like looking in a mirror.
“For a while yet.” He gave her the same answer he’d given Sawyer, and once again his departure, which had seemed set on the end of the month, now fuzzed indistinctly into the future.
The conversation waned and she rose to toss her bottle into the recycling bin.
“There’s something I have to tell you, too.” His voice must have reflected his inner turmoil, because she sank back down, sitting forward.
“What?”
“I didn’t leave Cottonbloom because I wanted to.” The words grew heavier and harder to force out. “I left because Chief Thomason caught me stealing.”
“Stealing what?” Her voice was flat.
“A boat engine from Mr. Wiltshire. Our engine had crapped out again, and I was sick of dealing with it. I should have sucked it up and fixed it, but I saw his row of boats and … I got mad and maybe jealous. What did one man need with a dozen boats?” The silence buzzed like white noise, but he was scared to look up.
“Why didn’t you get thrown in jail?”
“Thomason and Mama were in school together. He let me go because of her. Made it clear how disappointed and ashamed she’d have been if she’d been alive. Told me to get gone and stay gone.” A gash in the wood peeked from under his beer bottle. He and Sawyer had been messing around with pocketknives when Cade was about ten. He’d never seen his mother so mad.
“She’d have given you a good, long lecture and then a great big hug.” Tally reached over and squeezed his hand. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
He met her gaze, finding nothing but understanding. Now that he had told her, he wondered how things might have been different if he had confessed years ago. “I don’t know. Shame, I suppose. I had vowed to take care of you and Sawyer, and I royally screwed up. Some role model I was.”
“You had to leave,” she said almost to herself. “If you had told us we could have helped you.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. Sent you care packages or something.” They both chuckled, but not in a comfortable way. “It felt like you abandoned us, Cade.”
He heaved a sigh. “I know. And I did in a way. Once I was gone, I couldn’t come back. Didn’t want to. Out there—” he threw an arm wide “—no one knew me as a high-school dropout or a swamp rat. I had a chance to reinvent myself.”
“I get it; I do. Sometimes I wonder why I stay.” Tally’s voice held a hint of the bitterness he’d carried around like lead weights. A brotherly worry had him taking notes.
“Is everything all right at the gym?”
“Everything at the gym is fabulous.” She rose and squeezed his shoulder. “Have you told Sawyer?”
The sudden subject change registered as a deflection, but Cade wasn’t sure if either one of them could handle exposing another secret. “Not yet.”
“I’m heading back to my place. Unless you want me to stay as a buffer between you two.”
Cade drank down the last of his bottle. “We don’t need a buffer.”
“O-kay,” she drew the word out, and tossed her purse over her shoulder.
“Hey. Question.”
She turned back with one foot inside and the other out. “Fire away.”
“Monroe’s fund-raiser. You going?”
“Heck no. It’d be like volunteering to be a human sacrifice.”
“You mind if I use your invitation then?”
Her eyebrows rose, but she fished the parchment envelope out of her purse and sailed it across to him like a paper airplane. “Be my guest. Or Monroe’s guest.”
The envelope landed at his feet and still bore his grungy fingerprints from the afternoon she’d delivered it. He picked it up and tapped it against his lips. He would ask Richard to ship some more clothes, his tux included, and his latest project. Playing handyman for his family wasn’t going to cut it, and the deadline for completing the design was fast approaching.
He checked his watch. With the time difference, Richard would still be up, probably enjoying an after-dinner drink. The phone rang twice before his deep, Boston-tinged upper-crust voice sounded on the other end. “Finally, you call. Thought an alligator might have eaten you.”
“I haven’t even seen a gator, I’ll have you know.” Cade smiled, completely at ease with the other man.
“I’ve been worried.” Richard’s tone turned fatherly.
“Is the Simpson deal not going well?”
“I’m not talking about the deal and you know it. It’s going fine, by the way. How’s the hand?”
“Better. Sawyer forced me to see a PT, and she’s really helped.”
“How’s the fight going against your demons?”
The question scrambled Cade’s mind. “What are you talking about?”
“Please. I know what drives you, even if you avoid talking about it. Now what can I do for you?”
“I’m going to be down here longer than I anticipated. I need you to ship me a few things.”
Ice clinked against crystal. Richard was a connoisseur of high-end imported whiskey. “What kind of things?”
“I need my tux. The nice one.”
Richard’s laugh boomed across the thousand miles separating them. “Yes or no answer. Does this involve a woman from your past?”
Damn Richard and his telepathic abilities. “Yes, but—”
“I’ll get it overnighted along with an assortment of other clothes. What else?”
If admitting a woman was part of the reason he was staying longer weren’t bad enough, the next request might prove even stickier. “I’m bored. And Sawyer has a decent setup down here. I want you to ship down my latest project.”
This time the silence was heavier and Richard’s voice held no tease. “What’s going on, Cade? Thought this was more a vacation than a relocation?”
“It’s neither. It’s a rehabilitation. I’m bored and need something to work on. You were after me before I left for El Capitan to wrap up t
his design. You should be thrilled.”
“You’re definitely coming back to Seattle by the end of the summer?” Richard didn’t sound thrilled; he sounded worried.
“That’s still my plan.” His reassurance would have felt more solid if doubts weren’t shooting holes in his words. “I would be an idiot to screw up what we’ve built up there.”
“You would,” Richard said with a hint of warning and another tink of ice.
“Will you see to sending the clothes and the latest design?”
“First thing in the morning.”
“Thanks, Richard.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get eaten by a gator.” The phone beeped.
Cade tapped the phone against his chin, unease binding him. While he hadn’t exactly lied to Richard, he certainly hadn’t been as forthcoming as usual. It wasn’t a matter of trust. Richard had proven himself loyal time and again. He had been Cade’s guide into an alien world.
When the Cottonbloom’s city limits sign faded in his rearview mirror, he’d assumed he’d also left the insular, divided mind-set of the town behind. But like the river mud caked on his boots, he only tracked it into the next city and the next. Even to Seattle.
The same socioeconomic barriers that had kept him apart in Cottonbloom threatened his success in Seattle. In fact, they were more subtle, more dangerous, because instead of being marked by a physical divide like the river, the roadblocks moved, snuck up on him, surprised him.
It was only when he’d learned to play dirty that the barriers no longer barred him from his goals. He played a cutthroat and ruthless game that would make even a banker gasp.
He had success. He had money. The elite welcomed him into their fold like he was born into it. Yet something was still missing, and he wondered if everything he’d learned so far would be of no use in obtaining the missing key to happiness.
It seemed to lie in the hearts of the people he cared about. His funny, fierce sister and his resentful, brilliant brother and his laid-back, irresponsible uncle. And Monroe. Too much seemed to hinge on her. Fear pervaded his unease. His well-guarded independence was being eroded like the river slowly, but surely, reshaped the land around them.
Kiss Me That Way: A Cottonbloom Novel Page 15