by C. J. Lake
“Yep. These days he sells contracts for water softeners. The company he works for has clients all over the country and throughout Canada. When I was growing up, it was pharmaceutical sales. Believe it or not, he was a car dealer when my mom met him,” Mick went on, not sure why he was rambling now. With a shrug, he commented, “Look, my dad isn't a bad guy, but he was just never that into the whole father scene.”
“Oh,” was all Cady said, but there was a gentleness in her tone, which somehow came through in that one syllable.
“None of it matters now, though,” Mick assured her, deliberately brushing off the topic. He wasn't one to dredge up childhood crap, and he sure as hell didn't want Cady feeling sorry for him. Like he said, his dad wasn't malicious or cruel; he was just sort of vain and self-centered. As an adult, Mick could clearly see it and deal with it. Growing up, though, yeah, his dad's absences had felt pretty shitty.
“Your mom mentioned to me once that you've always been close with her brother?” Cady said, changing tracts.
“Yeah, my Uncle Rob,” Mick replied, telling her honestly, “Rob's the best guy. He showed me so much when I was a kid.”
“Like what?”
“Well, he taught me how to play pool, for one. But that wasn't till I was in high school.”
“Oh, I see...hence the table in your dining room.”
“It's actually Quinn's pool table—but I always beat him,” Mick commented glibly.
“What else, besides pool?” she asked curiously.
“Uncle Rob taught me, you know, life skills,” Mick explained. “Things every guy should know. Like...how to throw a football. How to pitch, how to catch a fastball. How to make a jump-shot...”
“So sports, basically,” Cady cut him off playfully.
Mick grinned. “Basically.”
“What about changing a tire?”
“Yeah, he taught me that, too,” Mick recalled. “I was twelve, I think.”
“Oh, my gosh,” Cady murmured, snuggling deeper against Mick's chest. “You were learning all that while I was quietly cringing through chess camp.”
“Chess camp?”
“I don't want to talk about it...”
Softly, he laughed. “I bet you were so adorable.”
“I wasn't,” she insisted.
“Well...you are now,” he said, nuzzling her.
Mick reflected for a moment, still thinking about his uncle and the impact he'd had on his life. “You know, now that I'm an adult, I can see how much Rob taught me—about what's right. The whole time I was growing up, he was basically showing me the kind of man I'd want to be.”
Turning in his arms now, Cady challenged, “And what kind of man is that?”
“Right now?” Mick caressed her cheek with his knuckles and suddenly saw her vividly, despite the darkness. “A very lucky man...”
Chapter Thirty-eight
They spent the next day and night together, meeting up at the student center between classes, then later venturing deeper into the city, hitting the North End for dinner, before doubling back to walk through Faneuil Hall, which was festively decked out for Christmas. They talked about their majors—how Mick had become interested in history (it was after studying the American Revolution), and how Cady had trended toward English (it was after discovering an abandoned copy of Far from the Madding Crowd in a cottage her family rented one summer when she was a kid).
For some reason, Cady also told Mick about Chess Camp. The excruciating two months that her mother had forced Cady to go, simply because Rex had, and despite the fact that Cady showed zero talent for chess.
Everywhere they went, Mick held Cady's hand, showed her affection. On a gut level, it excited her—but worried her at the same time. How could they keep this vibe going after their parents returned from their trip? That would shatter this whole romantic illusion, bringing to the forefront the reality that Mick was, in fact, Cady's “stepbrother.”
But was it really such a big deal? Was it honestly so bad? Cady had asked herself these questions constantly, figuring that she and Mick could simply explain to people why it wasn't shady, it wasn't sleazy or wrong, that they'd gotten together as adults. It wasn't like they'd grown up together. Therefore, the whole step-sibling thing was just an unfortunate formality, and archaic, ill-fitting title—something to laugh off. Except that it never seemed funny. Just awkward and uncomfortable.
And when would they get the opportunity to plead this case to any random people who caught wind of their relationship and, in turn, formed their own tacit judgments?
The thought of telling their families that she and Mick were involved filled her with dread and she was still inclined to think they would keep it a secret for as long as it lasted.
Cady tried to squelch her over-thinking—especially now, as she watched Mick pulling his shirt on, then looking around for his sneakers. It was already Wednesday; Mick was leaving today and still had yet to pack. He gave her a regretful glance. “I gotta go.”
“I know.”
Begrudgingly, Cady climbed out of bed and followed Mick out of her room, to the front door. A heavy weight of disappointment settled on her chest as she faced the fact that Mick would be away for five days.
“What time are you and Terrence heading to UConn?” she asked.
“He wants to leave after his last class, around two.”
Silently she nodded, then forced a smile. “Well, have a great time and, you know, a good Thanksgiving,” Cady rattled off insipidly, as they reached her front door.
“All right, I'll try to give you a call,” Mick said now, reaching for her and encircling her in a tight hug at the door. There was something about what he'd said, even though his tone was intimate. Cady bristled a little at “I'll try to give you a call.” Really—he'd “try”? What the hell?
“That's okay, you don't have to call,” she replied a bit defensively.
“I know I don't have to call,” Mick began, this tone teasing. He pulled back and brushed some of her hair over her shoulder. “But you'll hear from me,” he promised.
Just then Torie crossed through the hall. Both Cady and Mick turned to look at the same time. “Oh, hey, guys,” she said.
Mick gave her an amiable nod. “Hi, Torie.”
Meanwhile Cady was still trying to act casual, un-invested. A balancing act, really: playing it cool without being cold. “Anyway,” she said with a shrug, “have fun and I'll just see you when you get back.”
Mick blinked at her for a second, his expression hard to read, almost hesitant. Then he said simply, “All right then,” and brushed his lips across hers.
After he left, Cady sighed, having the shadowy feeling that she might have handled that poorly.
Instinct confirmed when Torie crinkled her brow and said, “How come you were sort of cold to Mick like that?”
“No, I wasn't—was I?”
“Kind of,” Torie told her. “Like you didn't want to hear from him while he's away or something.”
“Oh, not, that's not what I meant!” Nor was it anywhere near to how she felt. “It's just... I know he's not looking for a serious relationship right now, and we've only been hanging out for a couple of days. I'm trying not to come on too strong. I don't want to act too clingy, that's all,” she explained honestly. Fortunately, she always felt she could just be real with Torie.
Thoughtfully, Torie bit her lip and said, “I hear you, but...you might not want to act like you don't give a shit about him either.”
Alarmed, Cady widened her eyes. “Was that how I came off?”
“Well, just a little,” Torie assured her.
Ruefully, Cady brought her hand to her forehead, shutting her eyes for a second. “God, I'm so bad at this! Should I call and apologize?”
Torie shook her head. “No, that might be weird, like overkill. Don't worry about it, but maybe just send him a text later to show you're thinking of him.”
Nodding, Cady agreed, “Thanks, yes, okay that's a great idea.”
Breezily, her friend tapped her shoulder and said, “Yes, I'm full of them.”
Chapter Thirty-nine
By Thanksgiving, Cady was more sullen than thankful.
Of course it was overblown—this blue feeling—but she couldn't seem to shake it ever since Mick left. It had been over twenty-four hours and she hadn't heard from him. Not even a reply to her simple text asking him what time his flight was to Albany this morning, and telling him that Boston was already dull without him.
Now, with a bitter twist of her lips, Cady stared sulkily at her plate and nudged her food with her fork. Preeti and Rex had done an “updated” Thanksgiving menu, including cabbage stuffed with turkey, roasted potatoes instead of mashed, cranberry-chestnut soufflé instead of cranberry sauce. The spread on the table could have been photographed, that was how perfect it all looked, and yet, Cady struggled to find her appetite.
Every time her mind wondered why she hadn't heard from Mick last night, she recalled exactly where he'd been—a huge party at UConn.
Her mind bloomed with unsavory ideas that churned her stomach. Like: Mick and his Photoshopped-looking friend, Terrence, being swarmed by tipsy college girls. Music pounding, alcohol flowing...what if Terrence had even convinced Mick that “whatever happens in Connecticut, stays in Connecticut”?
Cringing to herself, Cady forced the idea as far away as she could. Which, unfortunately, was only to the upper corner of her mind. It kept crawling back down like a spider on the wall who thought he was alone. What if Mick had hooked up with another girl last night? Even the hazy, imaginary notion made Cady feel ill, even though she had only just started seeing him and they had yet to establish any “rules” here. Ugh, this was why she couldn't do the casual relationship thing. She was already fully in with Mick, body and emotions.
“Cady, more wine?” Preeti's father asked, gallantly lifting the bottle of Merlot and tipping it over her nearly empty glass.
“Okay, just a little,” she requested since she'd have to drive home later after the dessert and coffee. Home to her lonely apartment. Torie had gone to Ember's family's house in Natick for Thanksgiving, but fortunately, she wasn't planning to stay there the entire weekend.
As Preeti excused herself from the table to get something from the kitchen, and conversation resumed between Rex and his in-laws, Cady's phone vibrated in her front pocket. Her heart leapt in response.
Look, was it rude to have your phone with you at dinner, especially Thanksgiving dinner? Of course—but she'd been treating it as an appendage since yesterday, hoping Mick would reach out to her. Trying to be subtle, she inched her cell out of her pocket, muted it, and read the text message under the table, fighting a smile of relief because it was from Mick.
Hi, flight got in around 11 a.m., he wrote, replying to her message from the day before. She wondered what had taken him so long to reply to her, but it seemed too possessive, even shrewish, to ask. Though...turbulent thoughts of that UConn Party resurfaced in her mind. What had happened at the party to so distract him...?
She brushed that mental spider away. Over-thinking would be the bane of her happiness.
Then Mick wrote: How's ur thanksgiving going?
Keeping her hands under the table, she typed: Fine...u?
Good now.
Why, what happened?
Nothing, just here at the house with my dad, 2 of my aunts + 4 of my cousins. Also, my grandma's dog “Muffin” seems to be obsessed with me.
Cady almost typed back “Understandable,” jokingly, but stopped herself, because it felt too uncomfortably close to a truth she didn't want to reveal. Instead she asked: So why is it “good now”?
She assumed Mick had some story of how something had gone wrong on the trip.
Her heartbeat sped up as she read his response, and realized she'd been horribly dense. Because I'm talking to you, he wrote.
Immediately, she smiled.
Mick texted again: Is it just you, your brother + his wife there?
And his wife's family, Cady replied. Actually Preeti's mom asked me again if she could set me up with her neighbor's son.
She had not told Mick that to make him jealous—or, she was pretty sure she hadn't—but either way, it was the truth. Preeti's mom had mentioned the “well-mannered pediatrician's son” who lived next door on more than one occasion. Apparently he was a senior in college and “shy with girls,” which sounded like way too much work, even if Cady hadn't gotten involved with Mick.
What did you say? Mick typed back.
I said no.
Has the guy reached out to you yet?
No.
Good, because if he does I'll kick his ass.
Cady bit her lip to suppress her grin. She didn't mind someone being a little territorial about her as long as that someone was Mick. Um, that's a little premature, she typed back, since he doesn't even know that you exist.
When I kick his ass he'll figure it out.
Again, her smile broke through. Ha, you're ridiculous, she wrote. Expecting a playful or droll reply, she caught her breath when Mick's next text lit up her screen.
I miss you.
Her heart ticked faster, as she stared at the words. Then she texted back: Same... when do you get back?
Sunday night. Flight doesn't get in till ten o'clock. Before she could reply, her screen lit up again. Can't wait to see you.
Finally, Rex noticed what she was up to and questioned her from across the table. “Who's texting you?” he asked curiously.
“Oh, I...”
“You're blushing. It must be a boy,” Preeti teased lightly.
“No, no,” Cady deflected with a forced chuckle, and cleared her throat. “Torie just makes me laugh, that's all,” she replied vaguely, quickly able to type back: Yes, same... with a kiss emoji, before shoving her phone back into her pocket.
~
On Sunday, Cady was sitting at her desk, fully ensconced in research for her Poetry final project, when a knock at the door startled her.
So far it had been a quiet morning—an uneventful long weekend, with the exception of intermittent text messages from Mick—and she wasn't expecting Torie back until much later that day since she and Ember decided to hit Copley for the after-Thanksgiving sales.
She hesitated, debating whether or not to answer it. It couldn't be Mick since he wasn't coming home until tonight. Another knock rapped firmly, and her rebellious spirit crumpled. As she left her desk, she stuck her pen in her hair, which was messily tied up on top of her head, then padded to the front door, wearing her BU sweatshirt and baggy fleece pajama pants. God, she just hoped it wasn't their nerdy next-door neighbor asking if they had condoms. She absolutely hated when he did that.
“Yes?” she said loudly into the door jamb since she wasn't quite tall enough to reach the peephole in her bare feet.
“Cady.”
Her pulse shot up instantly when she heard the achingly familiar, masculine voice. Her first reaction was pure adrenaline-based excitement. Her next, more practical reaction was: Crap, I look terrible.
What was Mick doing here now?
Despite how disheveled and unappealing she looked, she knew she had to open the door. Even if she hadn't just blurted that she was home, she still wouldn't have been able to resist seeing him.
As soon as the door swung open, her breath caught in her throat. Mick's hair was scrappy, his jaw shadowy, his eyes a little tired. So darkly handsome—so freaking sexy. She just wanted to grab him.
“Hey,” Mick said, giving her a smile, “you busy?”
“No...” Cady lied, choosing to forget her homework right now, “not busy.” Then she backed up, inviting him inside. As he stepped over the threshold and shut her door, she asked, “I thought you weren't getting home till tonight.”
“I took an earlier flight.”
Concerned, she said, “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything's fine.” He shrugged. “I just told my dad I had a bunch of stuff to do
today and wanted to get back to Boston.”
“Oh...” Cady nodded, still feeling caught off-guard. “So, you had fun? By the way, how was that party at UConn?” she blurted as Mick stepped closer.
Instead of answering, Mick appeared distracted; his eyes wandered over her, mostly gazing at her mouth. “Let's talk later,” he said huskily, then slid his hand behind her neck. The heat of his palm already had her trembling. “Is your roommate here?”
“No.”
“Perfect.”
As Mick leaned in to kiss her, Cady tried to remember if she had brushed her teeth from breakfast. Inelegantly, she said, “I wish I'd known you were coming. Um, how come you didn't warn me first?”
“Warn you?” Mick repeated with a brusque laugh, studying her for a second. “Is it a bad thing?”
“No, no, of course not. I'm happy you're here,” she admitted awkwardly, “I just wish I'd known you were coming.”
“Well, I wanted to surprise you.”
“I'm glad you did,” she said, which, strangely, was both the truth and a lie. Self-consciously, Cady brought a hand to her hair—to the loose, lopsided knot that looked like a slept-on bun—oh, yeah, and it had a pen sticking in it. Between the hair and the bulky sweats... “I'm just not dressed to see you, that's all.”
At that, Mick grinned. “Don't worry. You won't be dressed for long.”
Chapter Forty
Mick meant what he said; he had Cady stripped to her bra and panties in a matter of moments. It helped that he was kissing her neck, which he knew drove her crazy. Then she was reaching for him, bringing her open mouth to his. He groaned against her lips as Cady shoved Mick's jacket off his shoulders and pulled on his tee shirt.
Once he yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it, he unhooked her bra, ducking his head as he slid the straps down, kissing her shoulders, neck, then up to her jaw...
“Mick...” she breathed, right before he crushed her with another kiss, sliding his tongue deep into her mouth. She moaned as he slid his palm behind her neck, then backed her up against the wall. Hell, yes—he was back with Cady, where he'd wanted to be since the day he'd left. Now he ran his hands down her back and over her ass, loving how supple she felt. How good she smelled. Just the scent of her made him hard.