When Dad pulled into the driveway of our house, he parked and killed the engine of the car, then rushed around to the passenger door to help me out. “Want me to carry you up?” I looked into his eyes and realized he was dead serious.
“Uh, no, Dad. It’s okay. Just help me walk up?”
“Yeah.” He held onto my midsection, making sure to avoid my wound, and took slow steps with me until we made it to the door. Mom was already inside, waiting at the threshold. She gave me a sympathetic smile, and I forced one back before turning and heading up the stairs with Dad still at my side.
“Probably feels good to be out of that hospital, huh?” he asked as we entered my bedroom.
“Yeah. I was getting sick of the Jell-O.”
He chuckled and helped me sit on the edge my bed. “You hungry? Thirsty?”
“I’m good right now, but thanks.”
“Okay.” He took a step back, shifting on his feet. “Oh, before I forget.” Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a cellphone with a white and pink case, then handed it to me. I smiled at him. “They looked, but said they didn’t find much of anything. They were going to return it tomorrow, but I went up to the station and grabbed it today. Phone’s all yours again.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
He turned for the door. “If you need anything, text me or your mom. We don’t want you walking up and down the stairs until you’re feeling better.”
“I will.”
He lingered, like he always did when he had more to say. Finally, he manned up to his feelings and faced me, then marched my way. He collected me into his arms, holding onto the back of my head while kissing the top of it. It was sudden, but it was comforting, and I clung to his arms.
“I was scared as hell, Kandy,” he confessed. “I know it may seem like I was more angry than anything, but I wasn’t. I was terrified. I saw all that blood and thought I was going to lose you.”
The rims of my eyes burned. “I’m here, Dad. It’s okay.”
“I know.” He kissed the top of my head again. “You’re here now, where you belong. Anything you need, I’ll get it for you.” He pulled back, but held my face in his hands, his eyes red-rimmed and damp. “Get some rest, okay?”
“Kay.”
Finally pulling away, he walked to the door, but this time didn’t stop or linger. He walked right out, cracking the door behind him. I took a look around my room—the Justin Timberlake poster on the wall to my left, and the collage board on the wall behind me, covered with photos of me and Frankie, my parents, and even a few of my parents, me, and Cane when we used to have dinner. I focused on each picture of Cane, and in each one he had that subtle smile and spark in his eyes, like he was content with where he was. I was certain he didn’t feel that way anymore.
I heard murmuring outside my door and turned to hear better.
“Think she’ll be okay?” Mom whispered.
“She’ll be fine,” Dad assured her. “Just give her some space and time.”
“What if Cane wants to see her again?” Her voice was full of concern.
“He’s not setting foot in my house,” Dad grumbled, then the whispering drifted as they went downstairs.
I laid down on my side, staring ahead at the window across from me as a tear slid over the bridge of my nose. I didn’t deserve this place. My parents were out there, willing to do literally anything for me, and I’d chosen Cane over them, not even realizing what all he was capable of or all he had in store.
Dumb and naive, that’s what I was. I’d jumped the gun and now I was suffering the consequences of my actions. I brought a pillow in front of me and pressed my face into it, stifling my sobs. I wanted to wail, but also didn’t want my parents to hear me.
What was my life now? What was my purpose? I no longer had school, I didn’t have a job, and the man I loved seemed like a complete stranger, with a life that was built on lies.
I wish I could say that time would ease my pain, but it didn’t. Each day was worse than before. I had dreams about Cane. Nightmares about the stabbing. I even had a dream that transitioned into a nightmare, only this time, Cane was the one holding the knife. I woke up screaming for help every night, and Mom would rush into the room to hold me until I fell asleep again. I felt awful, not only for what I was going through, but for what my parents had to go through because of my irrational, hasty decisions. If I hadn’t walked out on them that night, this never would have happened.
Eventually, I became numb to it all—the nightmares, the guilt. The medicine I took would knock me out cold, so I took more and more of it. It also made me lose my appetite, so the dinner Mom would bring to my room, on my favorite blue tray, would remain untouched. She noticed, I’m sure. I saw the way she looked at me when she came in each morning to take the old food out.
Per doctor’s orders, Dad helped me walk back and forth through the hallway to restore my strength. After a few days, he’d help me walk up and down the stairs, just so my body could get used to the activity again. Eventually, walking up and down the stairs wasn’t so bad, I just had to do it slowly. Mom wanted me to start coming down for dinner and I did, but I couldn’t help staring at the empty seat at the end of the table—the seat that was only a few inches away, where he used to smile and laugh and tease me. My chest tightened, and I looked up, realizing Mom was staring right at me.
“You okay, honey?”
I nodded, pushing my lips together.
Her eyes dropped down to my plate. “You’ve barely touched your food, Kandy.”
I studied the broccoli, mashed potatoes, and baked chicken briefly before pulling my eyes up. “I’m not that hungry.”
“Kandy, you have to eat,” she urged.
“You really do,” Dad cut in, and my eyes swung over to him. He had his uniform on today. He’d taken the first two weeks off just to be home with me. “Your mother said she’s been bringing food to your room, and you haven’t eaten any of it.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not hungry. I guess it’s the meds.”
“Well, should we take you back, have them prescribe you something else? You have to eat something, Kandy. What about that spaghetti you like so much?” Mom asked.
Spaghetti…
Shit.
The thought of it made my eyes burn. I was going to cook spaghetti for Cane before Dad saw us in the parking lot of the grocery store…before I had to come back here. That was one of the best days we’d had—being together after everything had unraveled. Holding hands in public. Not giving a damn about reality and getting caught up in our own little world. Why couldn’t things go back to the way they used to be?
“Kandy?” Dad called, but his voice was nothing more than muffled noise to me. The tears I’d been biting back trickled down my cheeks, hot and thick. Dropping my fork, I pushed back from the table and stood.
“Going to my room,” I announced, and took off as they both called after me, desperate and confused.
I took the stairs as quickly as my body would allow and rushed into my room, closing the door and locking it behind me. I grabbed my phone and then curled up on the bed.
I knew it wouldn’t have been wise to text Cane after what I’d told him at the hospital. The thought of it made my heart ache, but there was one other person I could contact to see how he was doing.
Lora.
Chapter Six
KANDY
The phone only rang three times before she answered.
“Kandy?” She sounded like she was out of breath.
I sat up completely. “Oh my God, Lora?” I was so relieved to hear her voice. “I’m surprised you answered.”
“Surprised? Why? I’m glad to hear from you! What’s going on?”
“Um…other than recovering from a near-homicidal experience?” I forced a laugh.
“Yeah, Cane told me about what that crazy bitch did to you. I’m so sorry that happened to you, Kandy.”
I shut my eyes, but the tears fel
l anyway. I swiped them away with the back of my arm before reopening my eyes and sucking in a deep breath. “Have you, uh…have you talked to Cane much?”
“I have here and there. He’s mostly been at work. Hardly showing up at home and hasn’t really been calling. I think he’s trying to avoid being in the house because of the press. They’ve been camped out behind the gates, trying to take pictures and figure out who the stabbed girl was.”
“Oh. Yeah, my parents don’t want people knowing.”
“Understandable.” There was a brief silence. “He’s…not doing well, Kandy.”
I sat up a little higher. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…well, for example,” she sighed. “I went to his office to bring him lunch. He sucks at taking care of himself when he’s stressed. Anyway, I brought him lunch and noticed a lot of his suits and pants folded in the corner. There were food containers everywhere. It’s like he’s been sleeping there every night. I know he’s trying to avoid the press, but I think he’s afraid to go back to that house, period.”
“Because of Kelly?”
“What? No! God, no. Because of the memories, I guess. He told me that moment replays in his head over and over again—like he’s being forced to watch it happen, just so he can know how much he fucked up by not stopping Kelly in time. He feels guilty, like it’s his fault.”
I swallowed hard, lowering my gaze. “It wasn’t his fault. Both of us knew the risks involved. We knew Kelly wasn’t all there. She moved too fast for either of us to realize.”
“They caught her; did you know?”
I was shocked to hear that. “They did?”
“Yeah. Your parents should know. Have they not told you?”
“No…they actually haven’t updated me about any of it since we left the hospital. They’re being very overbearing, treating me like a baby again.”
“Understandable,” she stated bluntly. “Their only daughter was stabbed by some madwoman who is clearly dick-whipped. I would be the same way.”
I sighed. “Did Cane tell you anything…about me?”
“What exactly?”
My bottom lip trembled. “He came to the hospital…I told him I needed time. Space.”
“Ohh.” She said it like she’d come to the realization of something. “That’s why he’s being like this. He’s avoiding the issue. Same shit he always does when he feels like he’s lost control.”
“I didn’t mean for him to feel this way. I’m just…I’m scared, Lora.” My voice cracked. “He said he knew that—that guy that was on the news. Said he was coming, and that it wasn’t safe, and then that shit with Kelly happened and I just—I kept thinking about it, and it freaked me out more and more—”
“Wait…what guy are you talking about?” she demanded.
“I think his name was Jefe or something like that. Some guy that the cops are looking for.”
“Shit! He should not have told you about him. What the hell was he thinking?”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s fucking insane. And if he finds out that you know who he is and that he’s coming, that’s not going to be good, Kandy. That guy is—he’s a monster. Okay? He’s ruthless. If anyone stands in his way he has no problem making that person disappear. Do you get what I’m telling you?”
“I, uh…I think so.”
“Listen, maybe it’s a good thing you told Cane that you needed space. It gives a solid reason for you not to be associated with Cane, and Cane can be stubborn sometimes, especially about the things he wants. You don’t need to be around when that guy shows up. Okay? You need to stay far away.”
“Okay. I will.” I swallowed hard. “Lora?”
“Yeah?”
“Cane isn’t a good person, is he?”
She was quiet for a really long time. So long that I thought she’d hung up. “Cane has a good heart—loves harder than a lot of people—but he has never been a good person in the way you mean, and I’m sorry you had to find out the hard way.”
My heart dropped to my stomach. That wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear, not by a long shot.
"In the beginning, I told him it wasn’t wise to get close to your dad," she went on. "He was a cop, and we didn’t know much about him other than the fact that he was good at his job and had saved our Mom’s life, but of course he didn’t listen. Cane thought he was changing—becoming this great person who had been forgiven of all of his sins, just because he'd made a best friend." She sighed. "He hides it well, Kandy, but Cane has done some fucked-up things that I’m sure he isn’t proud of, just to be where he is now. He wants to be the good guy so, so much…but we weren’t born to be good people, and my biggest fear is that he has forgotten that."
God. Of course. Of course that was her response.
I wanted there to be hope—a reason for me to hold on—but hearing it from his own sister was proof enough that I needed to stay away.
“I guess it’s a good thing he’s leaving.”
My brows dipped. “Wait, what? Leaving? To go where?”
“He bought new headquarters in Charlotte several weeks ago. He wasn’t going to move his office until the summer, but with all this stuff going on, I guess he’s ready to go sooner. He said he’d mentioned it to you.”
“Yeah, but he never said when.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“He hasn’t bought a house or anything yet. He’s only moving his office right now, getting settled in to work there. He’ll most likely commute back and forth for a while. I’m sure he will get in touch with you if he has any other plans, Kandy. He’s probably just trying to find the right words…the right time.”
I tried swallowing, but my throat was so dry, the lump was hard to get down. It wasn’t that I hadn’t heard from him. I had. He’d called several times, but I never answered. It killed me to do it, but I ignored his voicemails and deleted them as soon as the notification popped up that I had one from him. I couldn’t handle hearing his voice because I knew he would say something to make me fold.
“Look, I have to go,” she said, rushed. “Mom has a meeting in thirty, and I just finished a workout and need to shower. Let me know if you want me to bring you a meal, some ice cream—anything. I’m here for the time being, okay?”
“Yeah.” I sniffled. “I will. Bye, Lora.”
“Later, Kandy.”
I hung up and stared down at my phone for several minutes, then went to my call log, finding Cane’s name. The urge to call was so intense—I felt the anticipation in my heart and at my fingertips—but a knock on the door startled me, and I shut the screen off.
“Yeah?” I called, and Mom twisted the knob and walked inside. She shut the door behind her and walked over to me.
“Kandy,” she murmured, sitting next to me. “I’m worried about you, sweetie. You haven’t talked much about what happened. It’s like you’ve been bottling it all in. I see your wound is getting better, and it’s easier for you to walk around the house, but your eyes. God, your eyes.” Her expression was pained as she grabbed my hand and looked me all over. “You’ve lost weight. You have those horrible night terrors, which are understandable, but I can tell you aren’t getting good rest.” She brought her free hand up, running the pad of her thumb on the skin beneath my eye. “Your light is gone, and I don’t know what to do anymore.” Her voice thickened, and then she dropped her head and started sobbing, but I gently brushed her hand away, pressing my ear to her chest.
“I just need time, Mom. That’s all.”
“You’ve had quite some time, baby. It’s been three weeks. We should talk more about what happened.”
I didn’t say anything, but my eyes did widen. I guess I didn’t realize it’d been so long since it happened. It still felt like yesterday.
“What about…what about the baby?” she whispered, and I frowned then, picking my head back up and looking her straight in the eye.
“What about it?”
“You aren’t mourning it?”
/>
I scoffed. “Wh—I mean, what do you expect from me, Mom? I was stabbed, and I found out from my parents that I was pregnant. Of course I hate that it happened, but with Cane leaving, maybe losing the baby was for the best. I was only six weeks along anyway. It’s not like I had any sort of connection to it.”
She glared hard at me, her eyes so wide I thought they’d pop right out of her head. “I understand you are hurting, but if you ever say anything like that again, I will slap you straight.”
I leaned back, looking her over. “I—I didn’t mean it that way—not cruelly. I just meant that—I mean it’s not—”
“Did you know that I miscarried twice before having you?”
I swallowed thickly, frowning. “N—no.”
“Well, I did and the first time was brutal. I didn’t realize what was happening to me because I didn’t even know I was pregnant. I was young and dumb and in college.” She continued staring. “But the second time, I’d graduated and moved to Atlanta with your father, who’d gotten a job at the station early on because he was good friends with the Sheriff.” She sucked in a sharp breath. “We were living in a one-bedroom apartment with a little money saved up, we were married, and wanted to start trying. I remember taking a test and finding out that I was pregnant, and your father and I were so, so happy. But then a few weeks passed and I woke up in a puddle of my own blood.”
“Oh my God, Mom. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you—”
She held a hand up, stopping me mid-sentence. “Your dad was home and he rushed me to the hospital, but it was too late. I didn’t want to try anymore after that, so I focused on my career instead. Little did I know that by asking several members of our family about it, miscarriages seem to run deep in the women in our family. Your Nana miscarried four times before having me. That’s why I am an only child. I miscarried twice. I prayed that it wouldn’t pass down to you—that your father’s genes would be a lot stronger—but with that stabbing, who knows what will happen. That’s why I think you need to go and get another check-up—see if they can run tests. I know having a baby is the last thing on your mind right now, but it’ll make me feel better if I know you can at least try in the future without suffering like I did.”
The Cane Series: Complete 4-Book Box Set Page 56