by Jamie Canosa
I turned my face to kiss his palm and nuzzled against the soothing warmth of his touch. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” My eyes were drawn to the way his abs crunched as he bent forward to press a kiss to my hair. “And nothing’s going to change that.”
“I made breakfast if anyone’s ready!” Mrs. Parks’ voice drifted up the stairs and Caulder chuckled.
“Maybe I should put on a shirt, though.”
He shoved off the bed and traipsed toward his closet while I contemplated what to do next. I should have gone back to my own room, gotten changed, fixed the wild mess my hair surely was. I just didn’t have any desire whatsoever to leave Caulder’s bed. So I stayed.
In less than a minute Cal reemerged, pulling a plain white tee over his gray sweats and he was ready to go. Sometimes being a girl really wasn’t fair. He had his cell in his hand. He put it to his ear and as he listened a dark cloud seemed to brew in the room. Caulder’s face went rock hard and his teeth ground together so loudly I could hear them across the room. His eyes were centered on the window, but his gaze was entirely inward. That didn’t stop the storm of emotion from showing in them, though. His chest rose and fell as though he’d just sprinted a marathon.
He didn’t speak a word. Just listened. When the message was over, he let the phone drop to his side where it dangled from his fingers for a moment before slipping free and falling to the floor.
“What is it?” A million terrible possibilities rushed through my mind. “Cal, what’s wrong?”
“My dad.”
“What about him?” I eased off the mattress and approached slowly.
“He called. This morning, I guess. Left a message.”
Cal still wasn’t seeing anything, so I inched toward him and slid my hand gently up his arm to his shoulder. “What did he say?”
My touch seemed to draw Caulder back to me. He stared at my face and then down at the phone lying harmlessly on the carpet. “He called to say he forgives me.”
“Forgives you? For what?” How could he possibly think he was in any position to offer forgiveness for anything? Especially to his son.
“I saw him. While I was in California. I only meant to give him a piece of my mind, but . . .” Whatever had happened out there, Caulder was ashamed of it. I could see it in his eyes. The way his shoulders drew up defensively. “I lost my temper. I punched him. I know I shouldn’t have, but—”
“Cal. You do not need that man’s forgiveness. He’s . . .” I didn’t have words for what that man was.
“A sick, twisted son of a bitch.” But Caulder had plenty, only they lacked the conviction I knew he wanted them to have. Instead of anger, they only seemed to draw out hurt in him. “Did you know he had the nerve to say he wants to be a family again?”
Knowing I was venturing into explosive territory, I did so cautiously. “What do you want?”
“I kinda want to hit him again.” It wasn’t true. He may have wanted to want to hit him, but he didn’t. Not really.
“But?”
“But nothing.” He was desperately clinging to the fragments of anger. Using them to bury how he really felt.
“But . . . he’s your dad.” I offered the words quietly not knowing how they’d be received. “You still love him. You can’t help it.” I knew a thing or two about the harsh realities of unconditional love.
“I hate him, Jade. I hate him so much it hurts. But . . .” His eyes squeezed tight and he shook his head. “I miss him like hell, too.” Confusion and pain swirled in his eyes when they reconnected with mine. “How can that be?”
I huffed a laugh that had zero humor behind it. “I wish I knew. Family can screw with our heads and our hearts better than anyone else in the world.”
“I hate it because he was a good father. Loving. Supportive. Everything a father’s supposed to be. He was my goddamn hero. I wanted to be just like him. For almost twenty years my entire identity was dependent on him. I was Caulder Parks, son of Sam Parks. I don’t . . .” He shrugged, his eyes searching my face as though it held the answers to his unasked questions. “I don’t know who I am without him.”
We were standing so close that I had to tip my head all the way back to see him as my hand made its way up his neck, joined by the other to cup his face. “That’s okay. Because I do. I’ve never met your father, but I know exactly who you are. You’re Caulder Parks. Son of the incredibly giving, loving, talented Claire Parks.” He smiled at my description of his mother and his scruff, longer than usual before his morning shave, prickled against my palms. “Brother of Kiernan Parks. Protector of those he cares about. Strength to those who need it. Caring. Gifted. Generous to a fault. Dangerously charming. And maybe a tiny bit handsome, too.”
He laughed, but the warmth radiating from his eyes was clouded by the tears beginning to pool there.
“You’re Caulder Parks. You’re the man I love.”
One tear slipped free before his eyes slammed shut, locking the rest away and his lips found mine. When we broke apart, his eyes remained shut, his arms around me, locking me in his embrace. My hands cradled his face as his forehead rested against mine.
We stayed like that for a long time, until it began to feel like it would never end. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but . . . “We should probably go eat.”
“Just a minute.” Caulder’s chest expanded, pressing against mine, “I’m breathing.”
I let him. Until he was ready and gradually drew back. Scooping up his phone, he fiddled with it for a minute before tucking it away in his pocket.
“What does your mom think? About your dad wanting to come back?”
“She doesn’t answer his calls.” Caulder shook his head. “She doesn’t think I’ve noticed, but she hasn’t spoken to him since he skipped out on the funeral. I told him to leave her alone, to stop calling her. But if he called me, I’m sure he left her a message, too. I should go talk to her. Make sure she’s alright.”
There he went again. Struggling under the weight of his own pain and only thinking about taking away that of others.
“Why don’t you let me?”
“Really?” I was only mildly insulted by the fact that he looked stunned by my offer. “You’d do that?”
“Of course I’d do that.”
“Angel, you don’t have to—”
“I want to do this, Cal. Please?”
“Okay.” He nodded slowly. “She might talk to you since he’s not . . .”
“My father?”
“Yeah.” His eyes sketched my face as his fingers twisted with mine. “You’re sort of incredible, you know that?”
I didn’t, but he seemed to believe it and that was more than enough for me.
“I’ll go hop in the shower.” He tossed his head toward the bathroom and dark hair fell into his eyes.
My fingers itched to touch it and I surrendered, combing it away from his forehead. Reveling in the fact that he was mine to touch. “And I’ll go grab some breakfast with your mom. Take your time.”
There was love and appreciation in his smile, but there was apprehension, too. He wasn’t sure I could do this. Neither was I. But I was going to try my hardest.
***
“Something smells good.” I followed my nose into the kitchen to find Mrs. Parks standing over a sizzling skillet.
“Frying bacon.” The glass smile she offered looked ready to shatter at the slightest disturbance. “No better smell in the world. Is Caulder up yet?”
“I think he’s in the shower.” Settling in at the kitchen table, I watched her flip a few slices and listened to the hiss of grease. “Mrs. Parks?”
“What is it, sweetie?”
There really was no good way to say it. So I just said it. “Caulder got a message from his dad this morning.”
She drew a deep breath in through her nose and carefully placed the spatula on the counter beside her stove. “I see. Was he . . . was he angry?”
One shoulder lifted in a
half shrug. “Maybe. A little. Mostly I think he’s just . . . confused. I don’t think he really knows how to feel about him.”
“That’s understandable.” Reclaiming her utensil, she lifted the pan and shifted the fragrant breakfast meat onto a plate. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll call my . . . husband and see that it doesn’t happen again.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” I had to force the words through my rapidly tightening throat. My life was in shambles. Who was I to be offering advice to anyone about anything? But I’d promised Caulder I’d try.
“What do you mean?” Sitting across from me with her eggs and bacon, she slid a second dish in my direction.
“I just mean . . . well . . . . he’s your husband. And Caulder’s dad. I’m not exactly the man’s biggest fan, but . . . I don’t know. You have no reason to forgive him. I’m not sure I could. But I just . . . I don’t want to see you make a decision because you’re mad or hurt, and regret it later.” There. I’d said it. Maybe not the most eloquent speech ever made, but I’d gotten my point across.
Mrs. Parks leaned over the small wooden table and placed her hand over the one I was using to tap my fork rapidly against the side of my plate. “That’s really good advice. You’re a very wise young lady. But Sam and I . . . it’s not about forgiveness. I have forgiven him in many ways. Maybe not in all, but at least I understand where he’s coming from. I’m not angry with him. Sam was . . .”
With a sigh that sounded more nostalgic than sad, she pulled back. “He was the love of my life. He was someone I could have happily loved my whole life. But . . . I guess it’s true what they say. That ignorance is bliss. You can’t really know a person until you’ve faced the worst with them. When . . . when I saw the real Sam, let’s just say I didn’t like what I saw very much. You and Cal, you’re lucky in a way. You’ve seen each other at your worst. You’re so young, and yet you know each other better than I knew the man I was married to for twenty-five years.”
“We . . . uh . . .” When had this become about Cal and I? How did she even know there was a Cal and I?
“Honey.” She smiled with that mind reader ability she’d passed on to her sons. “I’m not blind. I see the way he looks at you. The way he’s always looked at you. I know my son. I know he keeps things bottled up inside. I know he’s lets them eat at him. He was letting them devour him. Until you. You can reach him in a way that I never could, in a way that he needs to be reached. You were there for K-Kiernan,” tears pooled in her eyes and I felt an answering sting in my own, “when he was afraid. When he needed you. And now . . . now you’re here for Caulder when he needs you. And you’re here for me.
“I know you think it’s this family helping you, but know that goes both ways. You’ve played such an important role in holding this family together. Don’t you dare think that’s gone unnoticed. Or unappreciated. Cal isn’t wrong when he calls you an angel. Whether you’re Kiernan’s angel, or Caulder’s, or mine . . . that’s irrelevant. My son is a lucky man. Don’t you let him forget it.”
Heat infused my cheeks and I nearly dunked my hair in the puddle of ketchup on my plate, letting it fall across my face.
“But what about Cal and his dad?” Just because she was ready to let go of the past, didn’t mean he was. A husband and a father were two entirely different things.
Her lips parted, but she made no other sound than the quiet clink of her fork being set down beside her empty plate. “I’d never keep Cal from seeing his father if that’s what he decides he wants. He’s a grown man. It’s his decision. But as for me . . . I’ve closed that chapter in my life. It was good while it lasted, and there’s a part of me that’s sad to see it go. A piece of my heart will always belong to him. But . . .” She pressed her lips together, but couldn’t conceal the way they curved into a delighted smile. Or the excitement twinkling in her eyes. “My date with Martin went really well.”
“It did?” Her excitement was contagious and it infected me. I scooted my chair closer like a child about to be read a bedtime story and Mrs. Parks laughed out loud. “Tell me about him.”
I’d never experienced the whole ‘girl talk’ thing before. I’d never had any close girlfriends and my mother . . . well, my mother was my mother. Gushing and giggling weren’t exactly in her repertoire. But that’s exactly what Caulder found his mother and I doing when he joined us after taking what I was sure was the longest shower of his life.
A wide smile parted his lips, revealing two rows of sparkling white teeth, which I was certain would taste minty fresh if I could just— “What’s all this about?”
Before I could answer him, Mrs. Parks interjected. “Girl talk. And you’re not invited.”
I glanced her way and she winked at me with the tiniest bit of apprehension. If she wasn’t ready to go there with her son just yet, I wasn’t about to spill the beans. “No boys allowed. Sorry.”
Caulder placed a dramatic hand over his heart and stumbled backward into the counter. “I’m wounded.” His words laced with dry sarcasm.
“And outnumbered.” I bit my lip against the giggle threatening to escape, but my comment appeared to amuse him as much as it did me.
“Now that I actually am afraid of.”
“Oh, hush, you.” Mrs. Parks collected my plate along with her own and stood. “And kiss your girlfriend good morning.”
Caulder’s mouth popped open in surprise and I’m pretty sure my eyes came close to bugging out of their sockets. I knew she knew. She’d told me as much. But I was shocked she could be so casual about it. We weren’t even that causal about it, yet.
Surprise gave way to something that could only be qualified as love, softening Cal’s features. For his mother? For me? For all of us. I felt it, too, growing deep inside me. Warming me.
I barely noticed Mrs. Parks leaving the room, I was so focused on him stalking toward me. Drawing up beside my chair, he bent at the waist and I didn’t even have the chance to tip my head all the way back before his lips were on mine. Soft and smooth, he kissed me slowly. Spearmint burst over my tongue and I sighed into his mouth.
“Good morning. Girlfriend.” Ooh, that word did funny things to my stomach. His lips twitched in amusement before they brushed over my cheek once more and settled near my ear. “Thank you.”
***
The frost crusted ground crunched beneath my feet. Caulder was working on some make-up assignment he had due and if I watched one more movie, I thought my brain might explode the way everything else seemed to onscreen. I needed to get out. Get some fresh air. Move around.
I’d never lived in a house with a yard before. It felt sort of novel to have my own little private outdoor space to explore. Granted, not many people had an outdoor space like the Parks’. I didn’t know how far their property line extended, but grass stretched out for a good two-hundred yards. I’d headed out expecting to see tennis courts or—I don’t know—a golf course? There were neither. Not even a pool, which surprised me considering how much Caulder seemed to like to swim.
A few chairs sat around a fire pit on a large stone patio right outside the glass sliding doors, and beyond that it was really just grass. And gardens. Large, intricately designed sections of yard, bordered with stone and cultivated into what must have been beautiful scenery in warmer months. Now they stood mostly barren save for a few hardy, leafy plants that lacked any real color.
Giving myself the private tour, I meandered from one dark soiled plot to the next. I couldn’t help wondering if Mrs. Parks cared for them, or if they hired someone. Or a lot of someones, judging by the amount of work they must require. I’d had a plant once. A marigold I’d brought home from school. But whatever the opposite of a green thumb was, that’s what I had. I was like the kiss of death to flora. If I so much as breathed in the general vicinity of a plant, I swear it would curl up and die. That didn’t mean I didn’t like looking at them, though.
I tried to imagine what it would look like when the gardens were overflowing with
color and life, but I was certain I wasn’t doing them justice. Sitting on the edge of one of the raised flowerbeds, I prodded at the frozen soil and brushed aside some of the dark mulch. Out poked a tiny purple flower.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. There in that frozen wasteland, one little bud had managed to find its way to the surface. It was beautiful, and yet so small. Insignificant in the vast scheme of the surrounding gardens. Lost to all, except those who bothered to look for it. I felt a strange kinship with that tiny flower. Tender and fragile, and yet there it was. Overcoming the odds set against it. Pushing through the obstacles in its way with nothing more than sheer determination. I was in awe of it. I wanted to be like it, to know that kind of quiet strength. And maybe I did. After all, look at where I was. Where I’d come from. All I’d had to go through to make it there. I wasn’t a tank, rolling over the hurdles in my life. But I did persevere. Quietly. In my own way.
An image sprang to mind, a visual representation of how I saw myself. My life. And, for once, it wasn’t ugly. It was beautiful and inspiring and I knew what I wanted to do.
Twenty Two
The tattoo parlor was cold. And dark. And a little bit scary with loud music pumping from speakers set in the black painted walls. I don’t know what else I expected from a place where they essentially stabbed people repeatedly for a living.
My steps faltered as we entered and my gaze darted everywhere at once. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. Maybe I wasn’t ready. Maybe—
“Angel.” Caulder’s hand wrapped around mine and tugged me closer. I collided with his solid chest as his arms folded around me, anchoring me there. “You can change your mind if you want. It’s not too late. But don’t chicken out if this is something you really want. Trust me, it’s worth it. And not nearly as scary as they want you to believe.”