Sliver of Truth (Shattered Hearts of Carolina Book 3)

by Jody Kaye

  My current job isn’t rocket science. My last one was, and it had the same pressure as the flames shooting out of a space shuttle on lift-off. I’d gone back to working for my former employer after the accident. It hadn’t lasted long. My cognitive abilities are all there. My speech? I’m more eloquent in my head. No stuttering. No pregnant pauses getting the correct word off of the tip of my tongue. The ability to articulate oneself leaves a lasting impression on people. Unfortunately, the inability to do so once will as well. Back then I’d slip up, get embarrassed. Exhaust myself trying to prove I was still as competent a man as I’d been.

  The thing is, the way I look doesn’t help matters. Most people never understood my desire to get into a top-notch university when my physique screamed “World Wrestling’s Monday Night Headliner”. I’d spent years trying to change people’s perception. After almost losing my life, I haven’t the inclination anymore.

  Let people believe what they want to.

  Hell, saying I hadn’t agreed to take Cece home because of her hot little body is a lie. But I’d hoped she was more than a pretty face before leaning in to kiss her sweet lips. And I was right.

  I’m damn proud of her for graduating. The only stupid part is I have no clue how to show or tell her how much. I’m certain testosterone puts me at the disadvantage rather than what anyone implies about my slow speech or aptitude. When it comes to Cece, I really am an idiot.

  “Hey, are you even listening?” Morgan breaks my train of thought. I must give him a dumb look because he repeats an abbreviated version of what he’s said. “We finished the security upgrade at the medical office Cece’s going to work at. Next is installing new cameras for Sweet Caroline’s, but Jake’s all up in Carver’s business, so Trig’s been handling that.”

  “What else is new?” Skye’s sarcasm regarding Jake, his older cousin, has us chuckling.

  Jake owns Sweet Caroline’s. I’ve got nothing against him. He pays me well to make sure he’s not bothered to come in unless it’s a genuine emergency. The problem is there is a tendency for urgent issues to arise on the nights he’s covering for the club’s manager and Jake’s the type to leave everyone on edge. The stress is visible on Celine’s face then too.

  “Glad Cece’s done working soon there?” I ask, scrunching my brow while repeating the phrase in my head. I’ve transposed words because I’m nervous the guys will find out about us at the wrong time. And thinking about Cece always leaves me half hard, which ratchets my anxiety over my friends figuring it out now.

  “Hell, yeah.” Morgan understands the meaning anyhow. He’s confided never being onboard with Cece’s choice, but it was hers to make. “I’ve only stayed on the club’s staff because of her. Now that Celine will have a job wearing actual clothes, I can be home more nights with Aidy.”

  “Or you could come out with Aidy instead of playing house with Trig and Kimber’s kid,” Skye’s focused on following the ticker at the bottom of the screen.

  “I could have sworn you were the one who was up in my business to find a woman a few years back.”

  “One to fuck the sad sack out of you and get a few jollies with. How was anyone supposed to know you’d wind up with Aidy? I merely proposed getting your dick wet.”

  Sloan tosses brimming shopping bags over the couch. They land between the other men, startling us all. “I knew.”

  “You did not.” Skye quips, rifling into them and holding up streamers. “What’s all this crap?”

  “Okay, I didn’t.” She clutches both of their shoulders. “But what is for sure is that you three are helping decorate this place.”

  “For Christmas?” I ask. The party supplies Morgan and Skye pluck from the bags are the wrong color for the holiday, and Sloan hasn’t had me haul the ornament boxes up from the basement yet.

  Aidy, Hailey, and Kimber tromp up the ancient wooden staircase coming from the reception area where Carver and Trig’s businesses are run. The set up below, in the offices on the first floor, is impressive. I won’t venture to guess how much of it is legal. Not my circus…

  The ladies fling more purchases on top of the guys, laughing. Aidy sits on Morgan’s lap, greeting him with a hello kiss. His fingers find the hem of her skirt, tugging it toward her knee.

  Hailey settles on the edge of the sofa arm near Skye. She’s more animated. “It’s for Cece’s party after her last show. We’re putting it all up before heading over there to watch her.”

  Skye’s pulled his hand away from Hailey’s back right before it connects and begins rifling through the bags. “Jasper is letting you go?”

  Hailey rolls her eyes, ignoring the intrusive question as she snatches a metallic congratulations banner out of Skye’s grasp.

  I’m not sure how much Celine knows about her own party, though, Sloan extended an open invitation to drop in to everyone at the mill and Cece’s coworkers at the club.

  “If it’s a surrprise, hide it. She’s still around.” The blood hasn’t made its way back up to my brain again, and I’ve opened my mouth too soon by mistake. Plus, my rush to warn them has me tripping up, double pronouncing my Rs. It’s something I focus damn hard on and heat pools at my collar.

  Morgan pegs me with a scowl.

  “She was there.” I stick a finger in the direction of the steps to the third floor. “When I’d gone to check the ladies’ room.”

  “Thanks for telling us, Dusty.” Sloan’s grateful. I’ve lost track of the surprise parties she’s planned.

  Everyone’s almost got the balloons and packages of confetti put away when we hear footsteps coming from the landing near the wall of windows.

  “What are you all up to?” Celine arches a brow, spying the seven of us sitting on the couches trying to act nonchalant.

  Like usual, Cece’s waiting until she gets across the street to do her makeup. Her hair is curling, but she’ll straighten and style it before going on stage. She has on a gray sweatsuit to stay warm with “secret” splashed up the side in burgundy block lettering. The word mocks me. She’s twirling an umbrella in one hand.

  “They’re biding time before your last performance. We, however, don’t want to be late when Jake’s got your image splashed on the marquee.” Kimber loops her arm into Cece’s. She’s the club’s manager. “It’ll be a packed house tonight.”

  Celine hikes her duffle on her shoulder, glancing at the bags Aidy and Hailey have tried to hide under the coffee table. “I told you not to go out of your way.”

  “Do you think your last dance and graduation are the only reasons to throw a party?” Sloan teases.

  “No, but it’s one you’ll use. I said, ‘no fuss’ when you talked me into a few people afterward. Swear to me, it’s only you guys.”

  Sloan bends her arm, giving Celine a wonky version of a scout promise.

  Cece doesn’t seem convinced. The fingers of her empty hand splay into a diminutive wave directed at her brother. “I’ll see you later.”

  I’m not happy I’m invisible, but she hasn’t paid much attention to Skye either. I ignore the ache in my chest and the overwhelming desire to pull Cece onto my lap the way Morgan had when Aidy entered the room. Kiss Cees. Tell her to break a leg. Be the one to bring her home to the party instead of her brother doing it. Reassure her she deserves the effort her girls are putting into making tonight special.

  I listen, tuned into the soft scuffing of her ballerina flats as Kimber and Cece descend the stairs. We wait until we hear the heavy front door close before Sloan gives each of us a task.

  Skye flips the television to a Christmas music station. “We’re on to you, Sloan,” he grumbles. “As soon as this party is over, you’ll make Morgan and I move the pool tables to put up the tree.”

  “Oh, poor things.” She squeezes my bicep and then pats where she touched, giving me a friendly wink. “Where on earth will you and Morgan find a big strong man to help you weaklings?”

  My chest rumbles. Sloan’s all right. I like how she’s making Cece’s celebration
a priority before the big bash Carver throws on Christmas Eve.

  “For implying Dusty is stronger, we’re not listening to Bing Crosby.” Skye changes the channel to a nineties grunge and modern alternative playlist.

  Aidy takes me in from head to toe. “I’m sorry, Morgan, but Dusty could lift the flipping couch single-handed.” She snorts.

  “With all of us on top of it.” Hailey agrees.

  I take the girls’ compliments for what they are, but Morgan shoots me another glower I don’t want to read into.

  Sloan, Aidy, and Hailey do a fantastic job of decking out the room in Pinewood College school colors and spangled sparkly banners. For as much as Skye bitched, we’ve sat around waiting on them to tell us what to do and then jumping to it out of boredom. The girls leave the cleanup to us and dart off to change before we all head over to the club to see Cece’s show. Anyone with a dick is wearing what they’ve got on; jeans and a t-shirt.

  Trying to ignore the evil eye Morgan won’t stop shooting in my direction, I’ve spent most of my time sending a string of unnecessary texts, checking in to remind Renata I won’t need supper. I live about five miles away with my ex-fiancee’s mother. Renata wouldn’t consider my offer to stop squatting at her house after Beth died. Most evenings I go home for dinner and come back if there’s an emergency. Renata understands sometimes my schedule can be unpredictable, and she leaves me a plate if I haven’t called to say I’m running late.

  I’m excited for Cece, but fold up the ladders feeling less than involved. I’d like to do something nice for her the way I have for the other women in my life.

  I wrap a burly paw around the metal, stopping to drop the ladder to let Carver up the main staircase. He slaps me on the shoulder with his usual air of confidence. I grunt in acknowledgment as he disappears into the two-bedroom suite off the main living area where he lives with Sloan.

  Ruminating on how unfair his situation is in comparison, it dawns on me Sloan had a room on the third floor before they’d gotten involved with one another. Rocket scientist or not, I’ve drilled it into my head for as long as Cece lives at the mill, she’s off-limits. I’ve also used the excuse that hiding what we’re doing legitimizes its wrongness.

  Every question about my competence rushes at me full force. I’m a dolt. For over a year, I’ve had the chance to sit Celine on my lap. Hold her hand in public and kiss her. I could have asked her out and put a stop to our sneaking around.

  Outing our transgression, rocking the boat, hadn’t only seemed like the last option, it didn’t seem like a choice at all. Deep in my subconscious, I’ve hoped Cece would ask if we could hang out when neither of us were busy. When she hadn’t brought it up, I gave her space. Perhaps what she’s looking for in a relationship is nothing more than explosive chemistry, and we’ve got that.

  I scrub my face. Fuck, I was more concerned with being close to her, letting her use me, then admit if she turned me down our escapade would cease. I didn’t want to admit she didn’t like me as much as she liked what I was doing to her.

  Now, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve been giving Cece the same impression. I’m ashamed of myself for not putting her needs first and making her think all I’ve ever been interested in is sex.

  Our primary mode of communication is moans and filthy requests. I should have been talking to her all this time. I’ve likely given her the impression I can’t string a sentence together that doesn’t include more than the same three words; suck, my, and dick.

  I want to make it up to her, and there isn’t a better reason to change things between us than her graduation. The spring is back in my step, and I skip every other stair, tackling the massive wooden staircase with newfound gusto. It creaks under the weight of my boots.

  Arms crossed and stone-faced, Morgan’s waiting to greet me at the top. He’s not doing a damn thing to hide his contempt over whatever’s bugged him all afternoon.

  “You’re not supposed to be up there when the girls are.” Morgan grits his teeth.

  “Came back down.” My answer is nonchalant. I won’t lie. I did come back down. After I came in his sister. I’ve walked by Morgan a dozen or more times on my way to see Cece. If she’d wanted to let the cat out of the bag, it was her choice. I’m not ruining it now out of frustration or to puff myself up. Not when my mind is made up about what role Celine has in my life and I want everyone else to treat her with the same respect.

  She’s mine. And my biggest problem is Morgan’s forgotten he once trusted I’d never hurt his sister.

  The scowl his ugly mug is sporting relaxes when Aidy wraps her arms around him from behind. “We’re all ready!”

  I haven’t passed the last stair before the ladies turn me around. They slink their palms into their better halves’, encouraging us across the street to Sweet Caroline’s. A third, fifth—make that seventh wheel since Jasper, Hailey’s boyfriend, has taken Skye’s place—I wind up holding the doors for the couples as they march through with cheerful expressions.

  “Where is Skye?” Hailey asks along the way.

  “The caterer is dropping off the food in an hour. He offered to stay behind and wait,” Carver supplies. “Trig’s already inside with Kimber. He took off over there as soon as our meeting was over.”

  “And Kimber made sure Morgan wasn’t on the schedule to bar back.” Sloan smiles at her man while she chatters at the group.

  “Why didn’t anyone tell me why I had the night off?” Morgan quizzes his girlfriend. “It’s my last opportunity to walk Celine home. What if I miss out on a sibling-bonding moment?”

  “This was a need to know basis.” Aidy teases him.

  “She’s my sister.”

  Aidy shrugs. “We had it under control.”

  “You enjoy having something to keep under wraps.”

  He moves her lavender highlighted hair behind her ear, pecking her on the cheek, and I’m fighting the green-eyed monster again. It doesn’t bug me Morgan has Aidy, but that he’s able to show affection toward her in front of everyone.

  Meanwhile, at Sweet Caroline’s front entrance, eighteen by twenty-four posters advertise Cece’s farewell. In most of them she’s clad in so little that the seductive way her arms cover her body gives the impression she’s topless or buck-ass naked. I know inside these four walls the latter isn’t true. Jake would lose his liquor license.

  It’s dark and noisy in the club. We have to push through the standing-room-only crowd that covers the path of twinkling floor lights to get to the booth Jake reserves for Carver. There’s not much room for anyone else to sit if I do, so I pretend it’s better for everyone else to have ample space. Reality is, I want to see Cees. If I take a spot at the table, nervous energy will have my leg bouncing it off the Richter scale.

  Kimber’s tending bar. She has Holly come take our drink orders because Trig has her penned back there, aware it stops patrons from copping a feel. Holly’s rockabilly style and short shorts attract the attention of an ass-grabbing guy nearby. I can’t blame Trig for being overprotective of his wife and step forward, getting in the guy’s face. The lascivious smile the bar’s patron has plastered on fades and low-and-behold the dipshit is glowing white in the dark.

  “Thanks, big guy.” Holly motions over her shoulder at the creep. Her fingers dance up my bicep, but it means nothing to either of us. Holly’s good people. She’s got a kid at home and he’s her number one priority. “What’s your poison?”

  “I’m drinking tonight.” The nice thing about working here is the bartenders know your order, even if it’s cryptic.

  “Glad one of us is having fun,” she remarks wryly. Holly’s responsible for closing the place down when the rest of us clear out. A second dancer is on stage when she returns with a full tray of beer bottles, glasses, and the sometimes fruity, always non-alcoholic concoctions Kimber’s perfected for anyone who needs a drink in their hand but has had addiction issues.

  Time ticks slow when Carver lifts his pilsner in a toast. I get the se
nsation someone’s pressed the pause button on my life and has forgotten to hit play. I guess the person was me.

  “Oh, shit!” With an empty tray, Holly turns and puts her fingers to her lips, directing Kimber’s attention to the table with an ear-piercing whistle. She points at Aidy and just like that everything speeds up.

  Kimber opens a fridge, sliding a water bottle down the bar to Trig, who pitches it over the crowd. I catch it as the house lights dim to black, the music turns up, and strobe lights brighten the stage. When our eyes adjust, Aidy’s drink is in front of her like magic.

  It’s the first time in hours Morgan’s complimenting my arm instead of shooting me a dirty look. But I don’t have time to notice. Like me, the crowd is here to see Celine and they’re going wild.

  A lot of Jake’s newer girls are into hardcore rap and techno. Cees mixes it up. Lately, she’s been into sultry throwback singles. The crowd’s demographic is skewed to men in their late thirties and early forties. This is the last music they heard before preschool television theme songs took over their playlists. She’s smart enough to work their egos into a frenzy, with flashbacks of when they were studs instead of duds. Um, I mean dads.

  The audience is sure when she shimmies off her shiny raincoat there won’t be much underneath. I’ve seen this number before. Cece’s pulled out a few stops from the Intuition video, including Jewel’s short, slick red skirt with the loose yellow firefighter suspenders.

  She reaches high to hang the coat from a hook, dragging her hands down the pole until she’s bent in half and the skirt’s ridden up to reveal a yellow plaid thong and the soft skin of her thighs that belongs to me.

  I chuckle under my breath, wondering how much of a mess I left Celine to clean up. I’d hose her off now to see the tight wife-beater she has on soaked through. I’m enough of a man to admit I fantasize about Cece wearing clothes as much as her not wearing anything. It might be because it’s a stretch to say she’s dressed whenever we’re in one another’s company.