by Gina Azzi
“My tuition.” Daisy says quietly.
I nod, not able to meet her eyes as a quiet sob works its way out of her mouth.
“I still can’t believe you lied and told us she got a scholarship.” Jax says angrily, eerily reminiscent of another conversation we had a few months back when the truth about Evie came to light.
“I know.” I shrug, knowing I lied to my siblings.
“Why’re you telling us now? What changed?” Denver asks, his voice hard and cold.
“I got out.”
“When?” Jax asks.
“A few months ago. After Daisy graduated and everything came out about Evie. I had one last job. Get a guy, a business guru, with a gambling addiction, to step up to one of the underground poker games.”
“And?” Jax prods.
“I did it.”
“So?” Den asks.
“Turns out it was Taylor’s father.”
“Fuck.” Both of my brother’s say in unison while Daisy blanches beside me, her small hand working its way into mine.
I nod. “I had no idea at the time. I didn’t even realize it until I helped Taylor move back to her townhouse. I was about to pull out of her complex when I saw him. I never even knew his name other than calling him Joe. But the moment I saw him, I put two and two together. And then Dad called.”
“Of course.” Denver’s voice is dry.
“Told me the terms changed. Griller needs fifty grand in twenty-four hours or something, something bad,” my eyes dart to Daisy, “would happen to Joe Clarke.”
“So what did you do?” Daisy asks, her cheeks wet with tears.
“Something awful.”
“What?” Jax asks, sharply.
“I sold a piece of mom’s jewelry.” I watch Daisy as I say this. “I was saving it for you. For your wedding day. And I’m sorry, Dais. I’m really fucking sorry but –”
“It’s okay, Carter. Please, I’d rather Taylor’s dad not end up dead when you had the means to help him. I mean after everything…” she trails off, her voice soft.
“The stone that changed colors?” Jax asks, his eyes squinting as if recalling the alexandrite.
I nod. “You remember that?”
“Yeah. I figured Dad got ahold of it.”
“No. I’ve had it all this time, saving it for Daisy.”
“Or for a desperate situation.” Jax adds.
“I felt like this was one of those. But I still shouldn’t have done that, sold something of mom’s without asking y’all.”
Jax tugs on the back of his neck again. Denver looks away, his jaw clenched, his eyes hard. Daisy envelops me in a hug.
“It’s okay, Carter. Really. You’ve kept our family together on your own for a really long time. No one is going to question anything you did to try and right some wrongs you made along the way.”
“She’s right, man.” Jax says after a long silence.
Denver nods sharply but still avoids making eye contact with me.
I let out a long sigh, suddenly exhausted. “The whole thing is fucked up.” I admit.
“Everything with Dad is.” Denver adds.
Jax and Daisy nod.
And a strange understanding passes over the Kane household. One where we all know we’re in everything together, but we also acknowledge that there are still a lot of secrets, a lot from the past, that we may never fully understand.
33
Taylor
I sleep in the next morning, dragging my body from bed at 9:00AM. I feel sore and disjointed, almost in a fog. My phone has several messages from Ria and one from Barrington, all of which remain unanswered.
I pop a pod into the Nespresso machine and wait until my hands are wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee until I take stock of myself.
I'm fine.
Everything is okay.
Carter's a guy. Just like every guy I've ever known. Except I thought he was different. One of the good ones. The realization that I was wrong makes me feel hollow inside, as if I can’t trust my own judgement. I hate the self-doubt that wiggles into my thought process. I’ve had enough of if during the immediate aftermath of the accident and felt like I was finally moving forward.
I drink some of the coffee and pull a handful of grapes from the refrigerator. Tugging on a light knit cardigan, I open the sliding doors and sit on the back deck, enjoying the feel of the breeze over my skin and the gentle music of the wind chimes.
What the hell am I doing? Allowing myself to become lost in a guy, even one who I thought was amazing and great and unlike any man I’ve ever known, is pretty much the same thing as sacrificing my goals for Barrington. For putting my own happiness on hold to help Daddy’s business and the Clarke brand. In the end, it's me giving up on what I want for someone else.
It's making a choice about love that is more strategic than just feeling. Then free falling.
And damn, do I want to free fall.
But if this falling out with Carter taught me anything, it's that I need to start dictating the terms. Living by my own rules.
For so long, I did everything I was supposed to do. I graduated college, bought my own townhouse, financially supported myself. I helped grow my father’s business, attended the right social events, and met my responsibilities with a smile.
I dated the right men and angled my body to make the best photographs. I worked out rigorously and cut sugar and carbs from my diet. I routinely applied face masks and hair masks and foot balms and lotions. I did everything the way I was supposed to.
And I was rewarded. I really was. A great salary, high profile modeling campaigns, and high-profile men to hold on to. For a long time, I loved it. Reveled in it. Enjoyed it.
My commitment and dedication earned me more money, more jobs, and more nights out. It also resulted in more loneliness and isolation.
That’s when I turned to books and became a vigorous reader. Reading provided an escape for me.
And then the accident happened and flipped my life and everything I thought I knew upside down.
I met Carter and even though the circumstances were bizarre, he made me feel a million new things. It was as if I was existing without living before I met him. My feelings were muted, and they suddenly burst forth, liberated.
Except now, he stole them away and left me with doubt eating my stomach and vulnerability clawing my heart. I hate feeling like this.
I deserve better. Because I deserve what I give, and I already gave it all.
Tucking my feet underneath me, I rest my head against the cushion and sip my coffee. And I begin to think of a new future for myself.
Reclaim all my old modeling contracts.
Apply to an education program.
Become a teacher. A reading specialist.
Most importantly, live a life that I control.
The ringing of my cell cuts through my thoughts, and I frown when a number I don't recognize flashes across the screen. Could it be Mom and Daddy checking in on me?
"Hello?"
"Taylor?"
"Speaking." I sit up straighter at the girl's voice.
"It's Daisy. Hey."
"Oh, hi." I clutch my cardigan closed in front of my chest, hanging on to her words, my heart soaring and then diving because she called me. Did Carter ask her to call? Is she calling because we're sort of friends? Did something happen?
"Carter asked me to call you to make sure that you're all right. But I would have checked in on you anyway. I have no idea what happened between you two, but I promise my brother is normally a great guy, when he isn't messing up a bunch of shit. And I saw you guys together; you have something real, Taylor."
"I'm fine. He could have called me himself."
"I told him that, but he didn't think you would answer the phone. He's really worried about you."
"I can take care of myself."
"I'm sure you can. I just, well, I'm sorry if he hurt you. He seems torn up about a bunch of things, and I've seen my brother with a lot of
women—"
My chest aches at the admission.
"And he's never cared even a third about any of them the way he cares about you."
And now my heart gallops like a racehorse.
"Do you really think he cares?" I close my eyes, embarrassed by the admission to another woman, one I don't even know that well, that I am so desperately still hung up on Carter Kane. Isabella would laugh at me if she could hear this conversation.
But Daisy sighs and when she speaks, her tone is rounded out with understanding and compassion. "I know he cares. A lot more than he wants to. If you need anything, at all, this is my number. Please, call me."
I nod before realizing she can't see me. "Yeah, okay. Thanks for calling, Daisy."
“Of course. Don't be a stranger."
"I won't."
"Well, take care."
"You too." I end the call and stare at the screen for a few moments, the backdrop a selfie of Carter kissing me in front of the fountain at Forsyth Park. I had changed it on my phone immediately after capturing it. Only yesterday. Was that only yesterday?
Delete.
Sighing, I stand from the deck chair and force myself back inside. Opening up my laptop, I open the browser and begin filling in an application for the University of Georgia’s education program.
34
Taylor
"Stop sulking," Ria scolds me as we tuck into ice cream cones near the park.
"I'm not sulking." I take an extra big bite of my vanilla cone, wiping the rainbow sprinkles that stick to the tip of my nose away with the back of my hand.
"Classy." Ria snickers.
I roll my eyes but manage to crack a small, almost-smile. I am sulking. It’s been five days since I’ve spoken to Carter and I’m miserable.
We sit in silence for a few moments, listening to the birds call out around us, our legs swinging freely against the stone wall we sit on. It's warm out, the summer heat finally disappearing into autumn breezes. I'm a hot mess today. I’ve spent the entire morning feng-shuing my townhouse and I’m thinking about redecorating completely.
I need a change, and other than dying my hair brown, that’s the fastest way I can obtain a new beginning.
I’ve applied for several education programs to begin next fall. I’m giving myself one year to ensure my modeling career ends on a high note, with closure.
"Are you really going to re-do your place?” Ria asks, interrupting my thoughts.
"Yeah. You'll have to come check it out. And stay over. We can order as much pizza as we want and watch movies. Or reality TV. Or start a book club. Or do pedicures."
Ria laughs, holding out a hand to stop my suggestions. "I'll come visit you. Don't worry. You won't be all alone."
She says it as a joke, but her words land like a punch to the gut. It’s true. I really don’t want to be all alone.
"You really like him, don't you?"
I cut Ria a look from the side of my eye, but she just shrugs, grinning at me.
"I don't know whom you're talking about."
"Oh, come on, Tay. You're miserable. So, what happened?"
"With Carter?"
"Duh. I could care less about Barrington."
"But you like Carter?" I ask, suddenly curious as to what she thinks about Marco's big brother. About the guy who managed to snag my heart without trying, except, he was trying. There's always an ulterior motive with men. Doesn't matter where they come from or where they're going, there's always more than meets the eye.
Ria chews her lower lip, her eyes trained on her butter pecan cone. Finally, she nods. "I do. Marco thinks he’s awesome. He's been really great to Marco, helpful with his baseball team, and hasn't flaked once the whole summer. And I think it's more than his court sentencing. He just, he really likes Marco."
I nod. Carter adores Marco, and their friendship is evolving way past the mandatory hanging out sessions.
"And I see the way he looks at you."
I glance at her sharply.
"He cares about you. For real cares about you. Not just for some stupid picture or to have a conversation with your dad. I know I give him a hard time, and I know the way y'all met is way weird…" She pauses to catch a drop of ice cream that melts down the side of her cone. "But he's the real deal, Tay. Whatever he did to mess it up, I think you should at least see if he wants to fix it before you cut him off."
I look away from Ria, eating my ice cream and thinking over her words. I felt it, when Carter looked at me. I felt the thing, the zing, the connection that was more than a matter of convenience. But then why would he send those messages? Why would he be involved with Daddy’s gambling? I open my mouth to explain some of the complications to Ria and then close it again. What’s the use in changing the way she views Carter? Would she tell Marco? Would it affect their relationship?
It doesn't make any sense. Everything I've witnessed in Carter to date, the way he agreed to coach Marco's team, the way he watches me from the corner of his eye to make sure I'm not pushing myself too hard, the way he worries about his sister and talks about his brothers, it doesn't line up with a guy who would purposely manipulate me, date me, want to be with me, while exploiting my dad’s gambling addiction.
So do I let him explain? Or do I cut him off?
I knock tentatively on the door to Carter's home. Biting my bottom lip, my mind floods with the bittersweet memories of the last time I was here. The loudness of the Kane household with too many bodies huddled around the island in the kitchen drinking coffee and eating eggs benedict. All of us hungover, laughing about the antics of the night before, lamenting over Evie and Jax's move taking place the following day. For a brief moment, a snapshot in time, it felt like I belonged somewhere. Like this family somehow reached out and plucked me up and wrapped me in their warmth. And now I don't, and the cold realization as I stare at the door fills in my stomach like sand.
The door swings open, and Denver stands before me, a severe expression on his face, his larger-than-life presence overwhelming. I shuffle back nervously.
His expression softens when he sees it's me. "Hey." He rubs his forearm against his forehead, mopping up beads of sweat that dot his hairline. He's wearing a tight black tank, the flow of his ink interrupted with random smears of grease. "Sorry, I was out back working on an engine. How ya doing?"
I stare up at him, my voice disappearing. My throat burns, and my eyes sting with the sudden onslaught of emotion. Denver dips his head in concern, stepping out onto the porch and stuffing his hands in his pockets. "You all right, Taylor?" His voice is low and soothing, and his concern for me, his compassion, causes more tears to well in my eyes.
"Sorry," I mumble, wiping the backs of my fingers under my eyelashes to halt the flow of tears threatening to escape.
"Don't be sorry. If it makes you feel any better, you're much prettier when you cry than Carter."
I snort, the sound loud and unexpected, and Denver cracks the tiniest grin.
"Is he here?" My heart stutters in my chest, partly hoping he's here so I can at least see him, and partly hoping he's not, so I don't have to see him.
Denver nods, gesturing for me to enter the house. "Carter!" he hollers, his voice traveling throughout the first floor.
I step inside hesitantly, standing in the foyer, my palms itchy.
The kitchen door swings open, and Carter walks into the living room. He stops abruptly when he sees me, his eyes widening. His fingers move back and forth as if he's unsure whether to come forward or stay away.
"Hey." His voice is soft, so different from his brother's. He regards me warily, as if he’s uncertain if I’ll stay and hear him out or flee in the next breath.
The air between us seems to charge and sizzle, like a magnetic pull drawing me to him no matter what.
"Hi." I try to smile, but it falls flat as all the unsaid words between us ricochet in my mind. What was his role in Daddy’s gambling? What if I can’t forgive him? Does any of this relate to the accident? Is any
thing between us real? What if he is the real deal? Can I ever get past this?
"I'm happy you're here," he says, interrupting my thoughts.
Denver places a steadying hand in the middle of my upper back and for the strangest reason, the touch grounds me. "I'll let y'all talk. It was good to see you, Taylor."
"Thanks Denver," I nearly whisper.
"See you around." He steps around me and disappears through the kitchen door that Carter came out of just moments before.
"Come on in." Carter holds a hand out to me. "Denver's working out back, so the kitchen is empty. Are you hungry? Thirsty?"
"A water would be great." I place my hand in his, the gentle pressure of his fingertips causing a circuit of electricity to zip up my arm, through my shoulder, and straight to my heart. Following him into the kitchen, the sweet sight of the gingham curtains, lace dishtowels, and cookie jar eases my rapid heartbeat. The magnets on the refrigerator ground me and I remind myself that I can do this. I came here for answers, and Carter seems more than willing to discuss everything with me.
"Take a seat." Carter gestures to the island, and I slide onto one of the barstools.
He places a cold glass of water in front of me and gestures toward the cookie jar, pulling out a chocolate chip cookie and wrapping it in a napkin before handing it to me. "This stuff only happens when my sister is home."
I take a slow bite and am surprised by the flavorful burst of chocolate and walnuts. "It's really good. I'll have to ask Daisy for the recipe."
Carter braces his forearms against the island and watches me for a few moments. I take another bite of cookie, stalling to figure out what I want to say, to explain why I'm here, and to try and understand everything that happened.