The tightness in my chest loosened just a bit, but not much. My heart was still pounding. I suppose I should have seen that one coming. He hated his dad.
I turned and slouched down on the bed, running my hands over my face. “This is so crazy,” I muttered into my hands.
“Is it really that crazy to be with me?”
“From all the red flags I’ve seen and what my dad told me, a lot of people would say it is! I’m just trying not to let it overshadow how I feel about you. I want to be with you, Cane, I do—but I don’t want to get hurt again.”
Cane’s eyebrows pulled together. “What did Derek tell you?”
I leaned back on my palms. “How you two really met—the things you did as a teenager. The fight you got into while saving Lora from some guy. How you worked for a man named Horacio and sold drugs for him.”
Cane shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What he said must change the way you look at me…”
“No. The day I got stabbed by your psychotic ex-girlfriend is when I changed the way I looked at you.”
“Why? Because you finally snapped out of the fantasy and realized that I wasn’t perfect?” he demanded. “Newsflash, Kandy, I have never been fucking perfect, and I told you that many times.”
“I know you haven’t, Cane!” I countered. “But I was in so much denial because I love you that much! I didn’t want the man I loved to be a fucking criminal!”
Cane blinked rapidly, thick lashes fluttering, in total shock. “Is that how you see me now? As a criminal?”
“No, Cane. But I know that everything you have now came from what you used to do and who you were involved with. That guy I saw on the news—El Jefe? If he’s coming to you, it means you’re still involved, and it means I should be as far away from you as possible. If that’s not the case, then tell me I’m wrong.”
“You are wrong,” he scoffed. “All I do is help him make money, Kandy. That’s it. He invests in my company, and in turn, I double or triple his investment. To the world, he is just a private investor. No one outside of you, Lora, and Derek knows who he is to me. Kelly has an idea of it because she snooped around in my closet and saw a few receipts, but she doesn’t know for sure.”
“So you don’t sell drugs to anyone?”
“Not anymore. Not for a long time.”
“And you’re sure you’ve never killed?”
“I’m positive,” he answered firmly, and relief swirled through me. His eyes dropped then and all of his features pulled together, like he was agitated. He sat beside me, running a hand over his face.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Did your parents tell you about the deal they made with Kelly?”
“No. They just told me it was a non-jury trial. They didn’t really want to involve me in the details. I gave my written testimony, Mom made me record what happened and how I felt, and she handled the rest. I just had to sign some stuff.”
He cursed under his breath.
I leaned in closer. “What, Cane?”
“They should have told you what went down.” He shoved his fingers through his hair. “They struck a deal with them. They accepted $50,000 and a restraining order good for twenty years, but in exchange, Kelly is only doing four years in a psychiatric facility.”
I closed my eyes, sucking in a breath. Frankie had warned me about this, but I didn’t think it would actually go down that way, and it didn’t make me any less angry. I thought surely she would get jail time—that maybe someone would see that she didn’t deserve to be set free, that she was dangerous.
“The judge was shitty, Kandy. He was bought off by Kelly’s mother. Had it been a fair, open trial, he wouldn’t have been able to give her such a short sentence. But without a jury, and both sides—in this case, your parents and presumably you—being in agreement, the judge was able to exercise his discretion.”
“But it’s not fair!” I yelled. “She knew what she was doing when she carried that knife in her hands!”
“They drug tested her; she wasn’t on anything. They think she just had a mental breakdown.”
“About what?” I wheezed, pushing off the bed. God, the words hurt—the truth and reality of the situation hurt. “She tried to kill me, and she’s the one who is given a slap on the wrist for a fucking breakdown? What about the fact that I can’t fucking sleep because I have nightmares about her trying to kill me, huh? Or the fact that it took me nearly a month and a half before it didn’t hurt to move, which was a pretty clear reminder of how she attacked me? Or even the fact that I’m probably never going to have kids because of her!”
“Wait…WHAT?” Cane’s voice was so loud that my tirade became a washout. My eyes stretched wide as I pulled my lips in and pressed down with my teeth. I said too much. Damn it! This wasn’t how I wanted to tell him. God, why did my temper always take control?
Cane stood up, brows furrowed as he looked at me. “What the hell do you mean ‘you can’t have kids because of her?’ What are you saying?”
“It’s nothing. I—it doesn’t mean anything.”
“Like hell it doesn’t, Kandy! If you have something you need to tell me, tell me! No more secrets, remember?”
“Fine!” I dropped my head, running my hands over my face. “I…went to see a doctor. Mom took me. He ran some tests, checked my uterus, mostly where the wound was, and told me that she’d damaged it so badly that I may not be able to carry a child.”
“What?” he breathed. “How is that—You told me about the pregnancy, but I thought…w-where exactly did she stab you?” His voice was full of pain, and it didn’t help that angry tears were building up in his eyes. I stood up and lowered my pants, showing him the area that was now just an angry dark-red line.
Cane’s eyes fell to it briefly before rolling back up to mine. He studied my face. The longer he looked at me, the harder it was to keep my tears at bay. They streamed down my cheeks, and I choked on a sob.
“He said that it might take years for me to completely heal in there, and even when I do, my uterus will be weak—so weak that it probably won’t be able to hold a baby. Even if I tried, it could result in a miscarriage, or rupture, or just not happen at all.”
“Oh, fuck, Kandy.” He cupped one side of my face. “Fuck, baby. I am so sorry,” he whispered. He dropped to his knees, wrapping his hands around my waist. “I didn’t know about any of this. I’m so sorry. I thought you lost the baby from the stress of the stabbing. Now I see why you didn’t answer your phone.” He kissed the wound, and having his lips there both seared and froze me.
Eventually, I pulled him back up to standing, sinking into his arms and burying my face into his chest. I didn’t come here to cry, but I had to let it out.
All the rage.
All the hurt.
All the guilt.
I had to let it go, and I knew he would stand there and take it from me—absorb my pain and then get rid of the wasted energy so that we could start anew.
We didn’t leave the room for the rest of that night. His phone rang constantly, but he ignored every single call. He picked me up and put me on the bed, then climbed up with me, letting me curl into him. My face was in his shirt, which I soaked with tears. My fingers were clutching him everywhere because I didn’t want him to leave. I wanted him right there with me, where he belonged.
“It’s okay, baby,” he cooed in my hair. “We’ll be okay.”
We…
I hadn’t heard that word from him in so long, but the sound of it calmed me. He had no idea if we would be okay…but we were okay together. We were always okay together; that’s why I was here, because this feeling was something I couldn’t give up. I loved it too much. Being in his arms, no matter the circumstances, always completed me.
I’m not sure when I fell asleep. All of my weeping, along with the traveling, left me exhausted.
When I woke up, he was still there, and all I could do was stare at him. He was sleeping, and I don’t know how I hadn’t
paid attention before, but there was hair on the lower half of his face. Lots of hair. He’d grown a beard while he was away from me, and somehow it was very fitting. Thick. Brown. It wasn’t bushy. It was just enough to cover the lower half of his face—a very thick layer that I instinctively combed my fingernails through. How hadn’t I felt it last night when he kissed me? Was I that out of it? That happy to see him? So elated that nothing else mattered but the two of us, reunited again?
Being with Cane in that moment was a risk, but so was falling for him. When I met him, he was just my dad’s best friend. I was never supposed to want him, but I did, and now I had him, and neither of us wanted to let go. Loving Cane was the dumbest thing I’d ever done in my life, but what we had was real, and there was no denying how we felt.
Only we understood what we had.
Only we knew how deep our love really ran.
Many people in this world allowed their love to die because of fears and trials and a momentary defeat…but I refused to let that stop me from having the one thing I’d always wanted: him.
Part II
SURVIVING
Chapter Sixteen
KANDY
In the span of three weeks, I got a new car, a brand-new wardrobe, and gotten weekly manicures. The new car was Cane’s idea. The new wardrobe and manicures? All on my bohemian, free-spirited girl, Lora.
Seeing as Cane wanted me to be happy, and wanted to give me everything, he had no problem giving me a credit card to shop around, just to get me out of the house and feeling better. I didn’t want to buy much or use up all of his money, but of course Lora racked up on things for me—some of it I was sure I wouldn’t even wear, but seeing as we wore the same size dresses and shirts, I think she picked most of it out for herself. I didn’t mind. It was nice spending time with her.
Not only that, but Lora stopped by Walmart to get hair products for my wild mess, as she called my hair. I had to admit, I had stopped caring for my hair like before. Lora braided it for me almost every day, telling me how she wished her hair was as thick as mine and could hold a curl like mine could. She made me feel much better about myself, and not once did she bring up the past or my losses, which I’m sure Cane had told her about.
Cane was pleased to see all of the clothes, shoes, and hair products. He’d told me repeatedly that he wanted to see my side of the closet fill up. Probably because it meant I’d stick around a little longer.
Despite all of the shopping and being so warmly welcomed into the new home, Cane worked a lot of hours and had to travel often. He was trying to stick close to Charlotte, but with Lora and Miss Cane around, I told him it was fine. I wasn’t alone in that huge house, and even though Lora was on the hunt to have her own place, she promised not to move into one until I felt good enough to be on my own again.
But of course, in spite of all of the positivity, there was a downfall—I hadn’t spoken to my parents much since I left home. I called Mom the night after I’d arrived and told her I’d made it safely, but she didn’t have much to say. She was glad I’d made it safely, but told me to be careful.
I had even started a group chat with them the day after that arrival to check in and see how they were doing. Mom responded and said she was fine. Dad didn’t, but I already knew he wasn’t going to. Like I said— grudges.
I tried not to let the heavy stuff weigh me down, like Kelly’s stupid slap on the wrist, and also the fact that my parents were sitting on $50,000 from the case and hadn’t told me about it. I kind of wished Cane hadn’t told me. Somehow it felt better not knowing what was going to happen to her and expecting the worst punishment possible, than to hear about that measly sentence she got and what the outcome was for my parents.
From what Cane had told me, she was already in psych and no longer a threat to us…but she was only going to be in there for a few years. We could have all the restraining orders in the world, but I knew that when Kelly wanted something, she went after it, even if the cost was her freedom.
On the other hand, my injury was much, much better, and time was healing the emotional wounds between Cane and me. But there was one thing I was afraid to follow through with—one thing I knew he was a little bothered about—we hadn’t had sex since I came to Charlotte.
There were moments when he’d come to me, and I’d let him kiss me, slide between my legs. All of my clothes would be off—everything but my panties and bra—but I would stop him before he got there, every single time. When I would stop him, he’d roll over casually and then reel me in to spoon me. He always said it was okay, but it was becoming a consistent thing, and I knew he was getting slightly frustrated. Either way, he did a pretty good job of not revealing those frustrations.
About a month into the transition, everything seemed fine. We were all happy. I made use of the sauna often, as well as the whirlpool bathtub in our bathroom, always sinking into it with a good book. There was a room next door to Cane’s bedroom that Lora and I had turned into a lounge area. Cane said the room was mine to do whatever I wanted with, so I bought a bookshelf, some books, notebooks, and even an elliptical, because with all of the delicious meals Miss Cane made, I was going to need to burn the calories off somehow.
I thought everything was smooth sailing until Cane came home one day in a rage. I was lounging on his bed, watching a movie on Netflix, when he barged into the room and slammed a paper down on the dresser. I sat up rapidly, frowning in his direction.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I’m going to fucking kill her,” he growled through his teeth as he turned for the closet.
I hopped off the bed. “What? Kill who?”
“That bitch Kelly.” He yanked at the buttons on his shirt. “She sent me a fucking note today. Straight to my office.”
“A note?” I walked up to him, shoving his hands away and helping him unbutton the shirt, because he definitely wasn’t getting the job done. “What did it say?”
He huffed, and when I was finished unbuttoning the shirt, he snatched it off and tossed it into the hamper. He went back out of the closet, grabbing the folded paper that appeared to have been crumpled before, and offering it to me.
I took it from him, giving him a wary glance before focusing on the folded note. There weren’t many words. There was literally only one sentence.
“I hope you don’t think this is over,” I read out loud. I grimaced at her cursive script before looking up at him. “What is this even supposed to mean?”
“It means she’s fucking insane! She sent this from the clinic she’s in. She’s trying to get under my skin.”
“Well, don’t let her, Cane! Seriously! Tell the clinic not to send you anymore letters from her!”
“How the hell can I not let her get under my skin, Kandy? When I think about her, my mind immediately resorts to the shit I would have done ten to twelve years ago. You don’t understand, all right? I want to get rid of her. For good.” His eyes were dead serious, more gray than green.
“You can’t do that.” I stared into his eyes. “She’s just toying with you. She probably knows I’m with you. I don’t know how, but I’m sure she has a gut feeling.”
“I don’t give a fuck about her gut feeling,” he grumbled, sitting on the edge of the bed. He dropped his face and pressed his palms to his forehead, groaning. I stood in front of him, lowering to my knees and grabbing his wrists, gently pulling his hands off his face.
“No one hates her more than me,” I said, “but you’re with me now, okay? You have me. I’m here, Cane.”
“I know,” he murmured. “And that’s what terrifies me. But it scares me even more when you’re away.” His lips pressed together. He studied my face, mostly my eyes. He looked like he wanted to say something else—something more serious—but he turned his head instead, looking through one of the windows. I had a feeling there was more on his mind—more he needed from me—but I was too selfish in that moment to ask.
I decided to change the subject instead. “Do you ha
ve to travel anywhere tomorrow?”
“No. No more traveling until next week.”
“Good, because I’ve been thinking about what you said a while ago about us having a getaway.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “You said you weren’t ready to go anywhere else yet.”
“I think I am, but not out of the country or anything. I want to go to a place I’ve never been but have always wanted to go to.”
“Where, exactly?”
I grinned. “New York City.”
Cane’s confused expression transformed into a bright, bold smile. “New York City?” he laughed. “Out of all the cities, states, and countries, that’s where you want to go? It’s very overrated; I’ll tell you that now.”
I giggled, holding his hands. “I’ve never been, and I think it would be fun! Look—I’ve been scrolling through Pinterest for fun things to do there and googling hotels we can stay in. There is this one really nice hotel that has rooms that are pretty much made up of windows. It shows all the skyscrapers and buildings—they all seem so close, almost like you can touch them. I can show it to you.”
He smiled wider, eyes soft. “Damn,” he murmured.
“What?” I asked, nervously biting my lip.
“Nothing. I just haven’t seen you this excited for something in so long. Show it to me.”
I hopped up, grabbing my phone and then rushing back to him. I sat on his lap, and he wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on my shoulder as I scrolled and clicked to get to the site.
“See?” I brought my phone closer. “The only thing is that it’s kind of expensive, but—”
“Done.”
“What?” I looked over my shoulder.
“It’s done. You want to go to New York City, we can go. Send that link to me. I’ll have Cora book us a room and we can fly out tomorrow.”
I turned as far as I could in his arms to see his face. “You’re serious?”
The Cane Series: Complete 4-Book Box Set Page 63