No. Quality over quantity. A perfect month is better than a shitty year.
I’ve wanted to see Venice ever since my dad brought me home a mask from a business trip when I was seven. White and silver, the intricate beading and perfectly placed feathers made me feel like a princess. I still have it, tucked away in my closet.
At the station, Cade talks me into first-class tickets, and once we board I’m glad I listened. I sit back in my seat, reclining the back, and close my eyes.
“Not bad, huh? It’s worth the extra cost, considering it’s not really that much more expensive.”
“You remember that from when you were a kid?” I ask, impressed.
“It’s amazing what sticks in your memory,” he chuckles.
I smile. It’s the first sign of happiness I’ve seen from him today, and I like it. I’ll keep pushing him until I see more of that side of him break through. It’s the tiny, happy things that make me smile the most, moments that would be insignificant to anyone else that make me excited to be alive. With Cade they don’t happen nearly enough, and I get the feeling there is more to his story than he wants to share with me.
“I’m going to get a drink. Want anything?”
I shake my head and watch him wander off down the aisle. An elderly couple take the seats opposite us. I smile at the woman and she smiles back. I’m hit with a pang of sadness as I realise I’m never going to see their age. They must be in their eighties, and devoted to each other. I can tell that just by looking at them, and the way he looks at her.
An hour passes, and Cade still isn’t back. I’m about to go hunting for him when I see him walking back towards me. His dark eyes look troubled, and before he even reaches me I know the bad mood is back. I curl up in my seat and pull out my guidebook, determined not to let his foul mood ruin my day.
I tense as he flops down next to me, his eyes burning through me. Whatever it is that has him bothered, it’s really messing with him. Maybe he spoke to Bella. That has to be it. I don’t even know the girl, but I hate her for how she treats Cade. He’d do anything for her, and she’s just stringing him along, oblivious to what an amazing guy he is.
“What are you reading?” Cade asks gruffly.
I hold up the cover so he can see. He reaches over and plucks it from my hands. I watch open-mouthed as he yanks open the window above our seats and tosses it out, slamming the window shut.
“Hey,” I gasp, wide-eyed. “Why did you do that?”
“This is supposed to be your trip,” he growls, “not one you pick from some stupid guide. I’ve sat through the last week watching you go from one stupid attraction to the next, but what use is that to you?”
The anger in his voice shocks me, because it’s come from nowhere. One minute I’m sitting there, poring over my guidebook, and the next he’s hovering over me like an angry bear. I haven’t seen this side to him before, and it’s scary how quickly it came on.
“What do you want? Because I’m struggling to believe you really give a shit about what the Lonely Planet marks as the tallest building in Venice.” He sits back down next to me, facing me. His intense eyes lock on mine. “You might only get to do this once, Erin. Do it right.”
“Why did you even want to come on this trip? I think you totally missed the bit where I asked for fun-loving and adventurous,” I mutter. He’s been nothing but angry and moody since we landed. If I wanted that in a travelling companion, I would’ve just taken my sister.
“Why did you invite me?” he challenges.
Good point. I could blame Calli, but I’ve never taken her advice on board before, so why would I start now? Why did I choose him? Because I saw something in him. As much as I'm trying to live every moment of my life, it was like he's trying to forget.
“Fine,” I sigh, crossing my arms over my chest. “So, since you know everything, how am I supposed to know what the hell I really want to see without a damn guidebook?”
He nods at my phone. “Google it. Pick three things you really want to see. If you never come here again, what will you miss the most? And I’ll pick three things. If you like my three things more than what you chose, then for the rest of this trip, you plan nothing.”
Nothing? That's like asking a duck not to swim. Planning is what I do. I have so little control over anything in my life right now that the thought of no lists and not knowing what happens next terrifies me.
“What makes you think you even know what I like? You’ve known me less than a month.” I laugh nervously.
“If I don’t know you, then you won’t have a problem,” he points out. “To throw your own words back at you, where’s the adventure? In your ad, you made yourself out to be a free spirit who jumps from one moment to the next with no hesitation. Yet you sit here planning everything right down to when I can take a piss.” He lets out a laugh that makes my blood boil. “When are you going to let go, Erin? When it’s too late?”
“I asked for someone adventurous to come with me,” I retort, my face warming. I’m angry that he’s taking whatever is up his arse out on me. And yesterday, he found the fact that I plan everything cute. “I never said I was.”
“Then you want me to push you,” he replies with a smirk.
I sigh, because as irritating as he’s being, he’s right. I can pretend all I like that I made the wrong decision choosing Cade, but the truth is, he’s exactly what I need.
“I’m going to get another drink,” he mutters, grabbing his jacket. “Can I get you anything?”
I shake my head and don’t look up from the phone I’m pretending to study. I wait until he’s out of sight before I toss the phone on the seat beside me and sigh. The truth in his words cuts me to the core. He’s right. But how can I let go of the only thing I have control of? It’s easy for him. He’s probably never been in a situation where he feels like he’s lost everything. I rest my head against the window, watching the trees race by.
This whole trip is a stupid mistake. I should be at home with my family and my friends, not halfway across the world with a stranger who doesn’t understand me. I was so scared of wasting the time I had left, and now I feel like I’m doing exactly that.
Cade is right. I’m not the girl who cares about buildings, or museums. I’m about my family. My friends. About being with the people I love. I’ve really fucked this up. Blinking back my tears, I stare at my Google search: what to see in Italy.
Too bad the three things I want to see most are back home.
Chapter Twelve
Cade
I shouldn’t have gone off at her. It’s not her fault I’m having a bad day. I should be sucking it up and pretending like nothing is wrong, even though I’m falling apart inside. Not knowing what Bella is thinking is really getting to me. She hasn’t spoken to me all week. For all I know, she’s already terminated the pregnancy. She wouldn’t even speak to me before I left—even when I told her I’d be gone for two months. She sounded relieved during the ten-second conversation she did have with me. I tried calling her last night and today: no answer. I can handle whatever she decides to do, but for God’s sake, I wish she’d just talk to me. The worst thing is that I know our friendship can’t survive this. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe that is what I need in order to move on.
I flick through my phone aimlessly, looking for something to fill the void. Before I can register what’s happening, I’m staring down at the All Sports Betting app. Today’s races are just about to start. My heart pounds as I stare at the screen. I rub the back of my neck and wipe away a layer of sweat. I can feel my fingers twitching, which is a weird sensation to be so aware of. The desire never really goes away. It just becomes less about the win and more about what the gambling was hiding in the first place. Even now, after all I’ve done to get here and everything I’ve been through, I could easily give in.
I look up and see Erin approaching me, and quickly close the app. Thank God for her timing. I set my drink down and get ready to apologize. She reaches my table and g
lares at me. She’s cute when she’s angry.
“Maybe I didn’t think this through, but I don’t need you to tell me every goddamned step of the way that I’m wrong. I’m trying, okay?”
“I don’t think you’re wrong,” I say.
The last thing I wanted her to feel like was this. All I was trying to do was push her to push herself, but instead I’ve managed to make her feel like shit. For God’s sake, she’s dying, and I’m making a hard situation worse.
“I’m sorry, Erin. I really am. I didn’t handle that very well. I took my own problems out on you and I shouldn’t have. Anytime I’m a dick, slap me back into line, okay?”
She glowers at me for a second, but then grins. “I might just take you up on that. Are you okay? You’ve been like this since last night. Seriously, you have more mood swings than me, and I’m dying. I’m worried about you.”
“Bella. She won’t answer my calls or my texts. I get that she needs space, but I just need to know what’s going on.”
“She’ll talk to you when she’s ready. Just be there for her. Don’t push her, because all you’ll end up doing is pushing her away.” She pauses. “And what you said to me? You were right. I am taking the easy way out. Because I’m scared. I’m terrified that I’ve made the wrong decision leaving Australia. What if I mess everything up? I’m doing this to save my family grief, but what if this makes it worse for them?”
“Do or do not. There is no ‘try’.”
She looks up at me, confused.
“Star Wars,” I admit with a grin.
She looks at me in disbelief.
“What?” I protest. “It’s a valid and valuable message. Stop trying to do what you think you need to do and just do it. What ‘it’ is doesn’t matter. Whatever you want to be doing, do that.”
“Deep,” she mutters. “Is that the philosophy you live with?”
I shrug, a smirk crossing my lips. “If it’s in Star Wars, it must be true, right?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never seen it,” she mumbles, distracted.
“Well that right there is your first major mistake. Seriously, who hasn’t seen Star Wars?” I gasp in mock horror. “How can anyone seriously consider dying without seeing Star Wars?” She shakes her head as I take her hand, pretending not to notice the way her cheeks colour when my fingers touch hers. “We have to fix this. Now. I mean, it’s fucking Star Wars, Erin. Do you not understand how many pop culture references you’re missing in like a billion other TV shows and movies?”
“Will you stop staying Star Wars?” she laughs. “You want me to waste an hour and a half—”
“Eight hours and seven minutes,” I correct her. “And that’s just the three originals. If we’re going to commit, and I think we should, then we’re looking at sixteen hours and forty-seven minutes.”
“One, we are on a train to Venice. Two, I’d rather stab myself in the eye with a fork.”
“Oh you did not just say that,” I gasp, clutching my chest. “Why don’t you just punch me in the balls next time? It would hurt less.” I pick up my phone. “The best thing is, I just happen to have the first volume right here.”
She laughs and wipes tears away from her eyes. “Are you serious? Of course you do. Fine. You want me to watch it? I’ll watch it. But then you owe me. Deal?”
“Done,” I reply, taking a moment to consider her proposition. “But just so you know, you’re opening a door you can’t close. I owe you, you owe me—where does it end?”
“I can't believe you're making me do this,” she groans.
I hand her a beer and laugh. “I’m not making you do anything. You’re a big girl. You make your own decisions. Just like you made the decision to live in denial for the last twenty-five years. You should be ashamed of yourself. I mean, what person over the age of ten hasn't seen Star Wars?” I shake my head sadly. “You’ve really disappointed me, Erin.”
“Geez, Cade, get over it. And I’m twenty-four, not twenty-five,” she growls. “Besides, I bet I can name twenty classic movies you haven't seen.”
“Try me.” I grin. “I'll have you know I'm quite a movie buff.”
“Okay. Casablanca.”
“Here’s looking at you, kid,” I reply immediately.
She narrows her eyes and I laugh. What she doesn’t know is that I spent two summers living with my grandmother in Sydney when she was sick, and her favourite thing to do was watch old movies. We’d sit on the couch, surrounded with junk food, and watch movie after movie, getting lost in the history of it all. At thirteen, if my friends had known how I spent my summers they would have laughed me out of town. While they were getting into girls and sports, I was making the most of the time I had left with my gran. My time with her is some of the best memories I have of my childhood.
“Gone with the Wind.” She grins. She cocks her head, like she’s sure she has me.
I hesitate, not because I haven’t seen it—I’ve seen it more times than I’ll admit—but because I want to give her false hope.
“You should be kissed, by someone who knows how.” I say the words smoothly, not taking my eyes off her.
She blushes, but quickly recovers. “Overboard.”
“Overboard?” I repeat with a grin.
“You know, with Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell,’ she says, waving her hand impatiently.
“I know the movie, I just thought we were talking classics,” I chuckle.
“‘Classic’ is a relative term,” she retorts, her tone defensive. “It’s a classic to somebody.”
“She might have no tits, but she sure has a nice ass.” I sit forward and hit Play. “You might as well give up. This is one game you’re not going to win.”
She glowers at me, but sits back in her seat, her eyes fixated on the screen of my phone. “Fine,” she sighs. “I’ll watch your damn movie, but I don’t have to enjoy it.”
Chapter Thirteen
Erin
An hour in and I’m bored out of my mind. I can't believe I’m actually wasting my time watching this crap, but as I glance over at him and I see the joy on his face my heart melts just a little bit. I settle back, finding myself snuggled closer to him. Every now and then he lets out a laugh, and it's all I can do not to roll my eyes at the crap that is on the screen. But the truth is, I’ll sit through hours of this if it means I get to sit next to him.
He smells nice—kind of like peppermint mixed with his general guy smell. It's a nice, comforting scent.
I wonder what he would be like to kiss. What would his lips taste like? Would he kiss me slow and sweet, or with urgency, like he can't get enough of me? My face heats as I try to drag my thoughts away from things that are just never going to happen.
Even at my best, I've never been good with guys. I had a couple of boyfriends through high school, but nothing serious. Sex was always awkward, and something that happened because it was supposed to and because it was expected, not because it was fun. And then I got sick, and all that stuff took a back seat. I read books and watch movies where the chemistry makes my heart race, but it also makes me sad, because I've never experienced that kind of connection and I’m probably not going to. Because I’m dying. I’m running out of time.
It’s funny how the little things like that are the ones that hurt the most. I crave that physical connection with someone before I die. I know they’re not going to be the love of my life—well, relatively speaking, there is a good chance they will be—but something is better than nothing. At the moment, the title of Love of my Life goes to Mike in year ten and his sloppy, face-eating kisses.
If I had more balls, I would make a move on Cade—but I won’t, because the fear of rejection outweighs everything else. I glance at him again. He stares at the screen, captivated in the same way I’m captivated by him. If I kissed him right now…how would he react? Would he kiss me back? Or would he push me away? My heart aches just at the thought of being that close to him—being that close to anyone, so vulnerable and exposed. I sit
forward and put down my beer on the little table next to me.
This is why I shouldn’t drink. It clearly messes with my ability to think straight.
I think about what Cade asked me earlier. What do I want out of this trip? Apart from the obvious, I want something I can take with me that nobody can take away. At the risk of sounding like a lovesick teenager, I want to be loved. As shallow as this is going to sound, I knew the second I saw his photo on Facebook that he was the one coming on this trip with me.
“Fine, you win.” I say the words with defeat, because I know that he’s right: I’m playing it safe because I’m scared. I’m terrified of everything this trip is really about. I’ve told so many lies to my family and friends that I’m actually starting to believe them. I know what I want and it’s time I’m honest to myself.
He glances at me, and I remember we’re supposed to be watching a movie and I blush.
“Sorry, I was thinking about what you said before, about me needing to take chances. I never properly answered you. I’ll do it your way.”
“This isn’t about me winning, Erin. It’s about you.” He stops the movie and fishes through his pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper and a pen. “Here. Write down five things that describe how you feel, and five things that describe how you want to feel.”
I scrunch up my nose, deep in thought as I stare at the blank paper.
Scared. Angry. Alone. Exhausted. Afraid.
How do I want to feel?
Not scared. Not Alone. Not afraid.
I hand the paper back to him, not trusting myself to speak. I swallow past the lump in my throat. He reads it, then scrunches it up into a tight ball.
“You’re not alone, Erin.”
Don't Hold Back (Love Hurts Book 4) Page 10