For Life (Reclaimed Hearts Book 1) (4 page)
Grady
Damn
. It’s harder to see her than I thought it would be. I know she’s glad to be here, though, even if it’s for my mom and Renée and not for me. Her smile was genuine, and the way she hugged my mom was beautiful to watch. Things are so strained with her own mother that mine is the closest thing Cassie’s got. In fact, I don’t even think Cassie still talks to her mom. Chloe says they don’t hear from their other grandmother at all. I know Mom still thinks of Cassie as her daughter, and I’m happy these two are so close. Cass always said my mom was the one she wished she’d had growing up instead of her own - and having met her mom, I understand why.
Standing in my mom’s house with Cassie is surreal. I’m not sure the last time I had a conversation with her outside of a text message or e-mail. She’s usually at yoga on Saturdays when I pick the kids up. Sometimes she’s there when I drop them off, but more often than not I just drop them off and go. Sometimes it’s just too hard to make that walk to her doorstep only to suffer forced politeness. That formality more than anything else cuts me deep. I stand three feet away from the love of my life and we talk to each other like casual acquaintances. I’d rather never see her face-to-face again than communicate like that for the rest of our lives.
So I stay away as much as I can, and that’s for the best. But seeing her now - open, friendly, generous - sets some thoughts churning in my brain that shouldn’t be there. Hope that we can be friends again is about as much as I’ll allow myself.
Cassie looks good.
Distractingly
good. After years of wearing it shoulder-length, she’s let her hair grow long again, and when I hugged her she smelled like the same fresh, floral scent that’s clung to her all her life in some mysterious combo of soap and shampoo and perfume. Those jeans she’s wearing make her look even leggier than she already is, and her sweater is snug against her curves. Silky dark hair, soulful eyes, lush body. God, she’s beautiful. How the hell I’m going to survive this week with her staying in this house I have no idea.
Torture. Pure torture.
Carl knew I wanted her back. He was the first person I called when she threw me out, the only person I could ever really talk about Cassie with. More than once I cried on his couch like a baby, and he never gave me shit about it. Carl
got
it. He knew I loved her, and he knew I fucked up, and he knew I knew just how badly I’d fucked up.
He tried to warn me at the end. A lot of people did, but Carl’s warning wasn’t just about the drinking. It was about the look in Cassie’s eyes.
That light is dying, brother
, he’d said.
You’ve got a devoted woman who used to look at you like you lit up her world, and that light is dying. You keep it up, you’re gonna lose that girl, and God help you when you do.
God help you when you do
. He’d never spoken truer words.
It was Carl who shook some sense into me when I was going through that period of self-pity right after Cass and I split up. He told me I had a choice. I could either let myself spiral out of control, in which case I would never get Cassie back, might lose my kids, and would definitely lose everyone’s respect - or I could get my shit together and be the kind of man who just might have a shot at getting back what he lost or at least having something close to it again.
It was also Carl who took one look at Yveta that Thanksgiving when I brought her home to Mom’s and told me I had another choice to make, almost as big as the one I had to make when Cassie threw me out. Carl recognized Yveta for the good woman she is and told me I’d better be damn sure I wasn’t about to break a second woman’s heart by giving her half a man.
And since that was all I was ever going to be able to give Yveta, I heeded Carl’s warning and let her go. I was never going to love her the way I loved Cassie. It would’ve been unfair to keep things going with Yveta, especially when I knew she was in love with me. Better to cut it off and be alone again.
I miss my brother. He was the bedrock of our family, the best friend I ever had, and if I’d died instead of him I know without a doubt he’d take care of Cassie and the kids for me. So that’s what I have to do for him this week and for the rest of their lives. I’m going to give him a funeral he would be proud of, and I’m going to do what I always promised him I would do someday, which is try to earn Cassie’s friendship back.
This week is about family, and I know Carl would agree that there is no greater blessing. Just the fact that Cassie came here with the kids is huge. It says she’s still the woman she used to be. It says she cares. It makes a statement that we’re still a unit, and that is the best gift I can have at this terrible time. With Cassie here, making it through this ordeal might crush me, but it won’t break me.
October 1995
Cassie
Football season is my favorite time of year. To be honest, I don’t understand the game, but I don’t need to. Our marching band provides enough excitement in the stands. You’d think a bunch of geeky high school kids would be far less exciting than the football players and cheerleaders, but you’d be wrong. There’s so much drama going on in this group of 75 kids it’s not even funny.
We’ve just finished playing our victory song when a bunch of my friends pop over to find me on the bleachers. It’s a fairly big crowd: my best friend Janie and her new boyfriend Dave, Janie’s cousin Steph, a couple girls I know from chemistry class, and some boy on crutches who won’t stop staring at me. He’s super tall and really hot and wearing a varsity jacket with a graduation date that means he’s a junior. He sees me looking and smiles even wider. Leave it to me to attract an underclassman. Though he is a really, really cute underclassman.
I’m freezing, and the cold tends to make me whiny, so my boyfriend Steve was just on his way to buy me a hot chocolate. The moment he leaves, the kid on crutches plops down next to me - right in Steve’s spot - and scoots close. The first thing I notice are his eyes, which are a beautiful shade of blue and fringed with thick, dark lashes, the kind girls are always jealous of.
“Torn ACL,” he explains cheerfully, motioning to his injured leg. “That means you’re going to have to drive.”
“Excuse me?” I make sure my tone is a little bitchy, but I smile, so he knows I’m flirting. This kid is really cute - dark curly hair and a smile to die for. When he grins a certain way his dimples show, and he has the most perfect teeth I’ve ever seen.
I’m liking this way more than a girl with a boyfriend should.
“Our date. Can’t drive you anywhere right now. But I’m getting surgery in a few weeks, so don’t worry. I’ll be alright for prom.”
I actually laugh out loud. “Oh, we’re going to prom together now? Did you miss the part where I have a boyfriend?”
“Who, that guy?” He waves his hand dismissively. “You’re done with that guy.”
I laugh again. “Oh, really? I am? And why is that?”
He reaches out and gently tugs a lock of my hair. “Because you just met me.” Coming from anyone else’s mouth, it would sound cocky as hell, but his eyes tell me he’s not an asshole. He’s a terrible flirt, but he’s genuine.
“That’s very fascinating, but I don’t even know your name.”
He offers his hand. “Grady Mahoney.”
“Cassie Daley.”
“I know who you are, Cassie Daley.” He doesn’t let go of my hand. He kisses my knuckles and I laugh. His game is bold and ridiculous. That can’t ever actually work, right? But he’s still holding my hand and I’m still letting him.
Our friends are watching us with amusement. Half the band is watching us, too, and I’m conscious of the fact that Steve will be back any minute with my hot chocolate. But I don’t make a real effort to tug my hand away.
“So, next Friday? We’ll go see ‘Romeo + Juliet’. It’ll be out by then.”
He lets go of my hand and I realize it’s because Steve has returned with the hot chocolates. He looks confused and slightly annoyed to see Grady sitting in his spot, but he hands me my drink.
“Sorry, the line was long,” he apologizes, his eyes cutting back and forth between Grady and me, trying to assess the situation.
“It’s okay.” I fiddle with the cup he hands me because I’m dying of embarrassment. I just got caught flirting with another guy by my very sweet boyfriend. I can’t look either one of them in the eye.
“I’ll leave you kids to your night. Nice meeting you, Cassie.” Grady hoists himself up on his crutches without another word and heads for a group of guys. A couple girls flock to him, and he keeps a polite distance from them, even though he’s smiling and being perfectly friendly.
I try not to peek at him, but as soon as Steve looks away, I do.
I try not to think about him, but I wind up thinking about his blue eyes and his smile all night.
I’m still thinking about him the next day after school when he calls me. And at dinnertime, when I’ve only just hung up with him. And again at midnight, after we hang up again from four hours of conversation and laughter.
I break up with Steve the following day.
Friday night Grady and I double-date with Janie and Dave. Grady holds my hand all through the movie and I want to kiss him so badly I can hardly see straight. The four of us go to Denny’s afterward and eat a mountain of food. In the backseat before Dave drops me off at my house, Grady presses his lips to mine, still sweet from the candy we fed each other on the ride home, giggling like five-year-olds.
And it is the kiss of a lifetime.
October 1995
Grady
“Last one,” I say, and she flashes her beautiful dark eyes at me as she takes the Gummi Bear between her teeth and tugs it loose from my fingers. She’s grinning at me like she has just done something really naughty, which is exactly what my brain says to my dick. Her fingers tighten around mine as she sucks the sour sugar off the candy and then chews it. She’s bundled up in some ridiculously puffy jacket, the curves I couldn’t keep my eyes off of all night tucked safely away. Just her hands and her beautiful face and her hair are free. I’m behaving myself because it’s our first date and we’re not alone in this car, but it’s damn hard. She’s already said yes to another date next weekend, and this time I’ll be sure we’re alone, even if it’s just for ten minutes.
We’re almost to her house. I don’t want her to get out of the car without kissing me, so I grip her hand so tightly that both our palms are sweating. I have no rational reason to think she won’t kiss me - she’s already agreed to be my girl, and she’s been flirting with me all night, giving me little looks, putting her hand on my leg, making excuses to touch me in between the excuses I make to touch her. Lucky for me, she keeps her hand in mine and turns to me, dark eyes sparkling.
“Thank you for the movie,” she says sweetly.
“Thank you for being my date.” I stroke her cheek, and she smiles before her lashes flutter down over her eyes, and that’s what gives me the courage. I can’t go one more second without kissing her. I lower my face to hers and hold my breath, waiting for the connection.
At the last second she tips her face up to mine. She kisses me breathlessly, as if she’s been waiting for it all night. Her lips taste like sugar and when my tongue slides against hers she makes a little sigh in her throat. I kiss her deeper, hoping I can hear more of those sighs, and she doesn’t disappoint me. She’s perfect in every way, and kissing her is as awesome as I thought it would be. Maybe even more awesome.
When we finally break apart my heart is hammering out of my chest. She isn’t smiling anymore, and for a second I’m terrified, until the look in her eyes tells me she’s feeling the same thing I’m feeling. I tangle my fingers in her silky hair and kiss her again, harder this time, and she gives it right back to me. God, this girl is incredible. I could kiss her all night. I could kiss her for life.
Her stupid puffy coat is in the way but I hold her as close as I can and she burrows into me, her hand around the back of my neck, stroking me as I explore her mouth with my own. When we finally break apart she smiles, and everything else melts away. She wanted that kiss just as much as I did, which makes me feel like the man.
This girl is everything.
This girl is the one I’m going to marry.
Cassie
“Just wanted to say goodnight, you two,” I call softly from the bottom of the stairs. The kids are sharing the attic room Donna made after Chloe was born. It’s more a playroom for children than a bedroom for teenagers, but I’m not surprised they want to sleep there rather than in the den in front of the new TV as Donna offered. At this time of loss and disruption, my kids are comforted by the things that are exactly the same in their world.
Just like everything else in this house, it looks and smells the same as it has for decades. Two single beds are separated by a shelf stuffed with worn picture books and old Jack London paperbacks as well as copies of newer YA reads. Trunks full of old toys - some of which belonged to Carl, Sr. and Donna and others that belonged to Grady and his brother - flank the beds. On one wall are Grady and Carl’s high school football and basketball trophies, and my kids have added a few tokens of victory to the display, such as Chloe’s photography plaque and Caden’s middle school field day ribbons.
I must look worried, because Caden frowns when he sees me. “You okay, Mom?” he asks.
“Sure, sweetie.” I nod and sit on his bed to kiss him goodnight. He wraps his long arms around me and just squeezes. In that moment I’m reminded of Grady as a teenager, full of life and mischievous sweetness, and my heart aches for the boy who lost his father and the man who lost his best friend. He’s now missing half his family. I can’t imagine his pain. Caden has his dad’s caring spirit and sense of devotion, and I just know he’s the one keeping Chloe calm instead of being soothed by his older sister.
When I try to kiss Chloe goodnight, she squirms uncomfortably under my touch before finally relenting, like a cat who’s being mauled by small children and realizes struggling is futile. Although I’m used to her shrugging me off, it suddenly stings that she’s doing it now. I say a hasty goodnight with my emotions lurking too close to the surface and head to my room. As I make my way back down the creaky stairs I hear my kids giggling and speaking to each other in quiet voices, just like they did when they were smaller, and I’m glad they have each other.
But I can’t sleep. Being in this house and sleeping in the guest room, where I stayed as a young girl on my first winter break home from college, feels so familiar that I half expect Grady to come sneaking into my room. I smile as I remember the youthful torture of sleeping down the hall from him, of hearing his quiet footsteps in the hall and knowing he was going to pop in to steal a kiss or two, slide his hands into my shirt, and whisper all the things he wanted to do to me when we were finally alone. Today we greeted each other like the polite, restrained adults we are, but there was a time…
Grady and I didn’t so much fall in love as plummet into a conflagration of lust. Love came later, but in those first few months we were two sparks in a powder keg. When love finally grew between us, the passion was always there, simmering behind it. Even in the early days of our marriage, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. I’d finally get Chloe down and we’d burrow into each other, frazzled and exhausted new parents seeking comfort in the other’s arms. His touch made everything right again, returned me from the anxious first-time mother I’d become to the confident girl I’d been.
Until the last year of our marriage. Well, maybe the last two years. It doesn’t matter. It was so long ago, and the pain was so searing I don’t allow myself to think about the final days, not ever. I lived them and I don’t need to go back there again. Grady and I have never spoken about what finally drove us apart, and there was a time when I thought we should do that. No more. It couldn’t possibly solve anything. Besides, I’m fine. I was able to fall in love again, so he didn’t ruin me that badly. I may not have full closure, but at this point, a decade later, I’m content to let sleeping dogs lie.
* * * *
I was nervous that Donna was going to have us eat dinner together, but I underestimated how much Carl’s death has taken out of her. Once we’re all there, she goes upstairs to lie down. A nap sounds good to me, too, especially since the kink in my neck just won’t quit. Earlier, I noticed Grady watching me as I rubbed it and tried to stretch it out, and I was reminded of how he used to give me amazing back massages. But even thinking about that feels weird and wrong, so I push the thought aside and bustle around, unpacking and doing a bit of prep for the gathering after the funeral.
The kids chatter with Grady in the living room. Normally this would be their weekend with him, anyway, so I’m more than happy to step aside and let them enjoy their time together. I’ve still got a lot of work cut out for me, and it’s easier for me to do it knowing the kids are having fun. I still need to go and see Renée - hopefully alone - so we can talk. My heart aches for my sister-in-law. I can’t imagine how she’ll ever recover from this devastation.
When Grady asks the kids if they want to go get Chinese food, I’m so relieved. That saves us all a lot of awkwardness, because he knows I won’t eat it. I’m pretty sure he did that on purpose, but even if he didn’t we’re both spared the discomfort of making small talk over a meal, so I’m profoundly grateful.
“Need us to pick anything up for you while we’re out?” he asks politely. I forgot what it was like to have a man around, willing to do things for me. It’s been too long, and it feels too good to be asked. I know if I said yes he would get me whatever I wanted, too. He was always good that way.
But I demur with equal grace. “That’s so nice of you, but no. I brought some soup, and I have a bit of a headache, so I’m just going to take it easy here. You all have fun.”
“Don’t worry about Ares,” Grady says. “He should be fine, but if he whines at the door, would you let him out back?”
“Sure.” I’ve never been around Grady’s dog, but he’s almost more human than animal, keeping his expressive brown eyes glued to the two of us as if he’s part of the conversation, even though he can’t possibly understand what we’re saying.
Caden gives me a quick squeeze and the three of them slip out.
I make soup and break out my Kindle. With teenagers in the house, I have more and more moments of quiet, and I always try to take advantage of them by doing something for me. It doesn’t always work, but sitting here with my soup and my steamy romance in a silent house is therapeutic for my soul.
The chemistry sizzles between the billionaire and his goddess, but by the time I’ve devoured the next three chapters of my book, my neck is screaming so badly I have to stop. Reading might be therapeutic for my soul, but keeping my head still isn’t doing my poor neck any favors. I should’ve stretched earlier, but since I didn’t, I decide to do it now.
I change into my workout clothes, which is what I normally sleep in to motivate myself to exercise in the morning, and head back downstairs to the living room. With Ares keeping a close eye on me from the corner, I warm up and get myself into a relaxing headspace. For a few minutes I do some shoulder opening stretches, then some hip opening stretches. As the stress of the day ebbs away, the tightness in my muscles slowly unfurls. I feel the aching subside, and I’m comforted by the sounds of my own measured breaths.
But of course it’s when I have myself in the very undignified “thread the needle” pose, ass in the air, that they all come clomping back in the door. I have just enough time to untwist myself before all three march into the living room to greet me.
Caden spies me on the floor and says, “Oh, she’s just doing yoga again. She’s always talking about how she likes to keep flexible.”
The look on Grady’s face would be hilarious if those words hadn’t just come from our innocent son, and if he and I were on much better terms I would’ve laughed out loud. Instead I duck my head and pretend I’m meditating and they all head into the kitchen. I hear them digging in the freezer for ice cream and decide this is a perfect time to get a hot shower.
“Getting in the shower and then heading to bed, you guys,” I call into the kitchen as I pass. Caden comes to the door and I grab his shoulders. “Bud, no fooling, I want that nighttime retainer in your mouth. Promise?”
“Promise.”
“I’ll make sure of it,” Grady adds. “I have to remind him at my house, too.”
“Thanks. He forgets, and I know I’m being a nag, but—”
“You’re not being a nag. He wears the retainer. End of conversation.” He shoots me a look of solidarity, and for the first time I wonder if it's possible for Grady and me to rebuild a friendship from the rubble of our failed marriage.
