Kiss Me That Way: A Cottonbloom Novel (36 page)

She didn’t want Kayla to blame herself. She didn’t want this incident to define Kayla’s life. The pain made it impossible to get the words out, and when the ambulance pulled up she submitted gratefully to the EMTs’ care, letting Wayne, Kayla, and her mother speak for her.

Her mother rode in the back and held one of her hands in both of hers. Sleepy, she was so sleepy. Before she drifted off, she whispered one word. “Cade.”

Chapter Twenty-eight

Cade steered the rented Mercedes over the Cottonbloom Parish line. He’d decided to come home in style. A last day of luxury before he traded it in for his daddy’s truck for good. His anxiety grew with every mile. Monroe hadn’t answered any of his calls. Either she was away from her phone or she was ignoring him. He didn’t want to entertain any other possibility. His phone buzzed and he tensed, before Sawyer’s name popped up.

He answered the call through the state-of-the-art dash. “You’re not going to believe—”

“You need to come home. Now.” Sawyer’s tone dried Cade’s mouth and had him clenching the wheel. Visions of the police standing at the door and imparting the news of his parents’ accident flashed.

“What’s wrong?” his voice croaked in the small space.

“Monroe and Sam Landry got into a set-to at the Rivershack Tavern. He punched her. She’s in the hospital getting X-rays for a possible fractured cheekbone and under observation for a concussion.”

A fury like Cade had never experienced built during the short pause.

“She asked for you.”

He mashed the accelerator to the floor. “I’m going to rip Sam’s arms off and shove them down his throat.”

Sawyer’s chuckle was full of dark humor. “No need. Monroe already handed his ass to him. He’s being treated for a broken jaw and several cracked ribs. Then, he’s going to jail. Monroe was adamant about pressing charges.”

If he hadn’t left, she wouldn’t be in the hospital right now. Whatever had happened he would have been by her side so she didn’t have to face it alone. Tears stung the backs of his eyes, and he had to blow out a deep breath. “I’m on my way.”

He disconnected and utilized the full capacity of the Mercedes’s engine and handling. He pulled into the hospital parking lot in a time that would have made Mario Andretti proud. Desperate to lay eyes on Monroe, he ran to the entrance, the leisurely opening of the automatic doors ticking his impatience higher.

A knot of people in one corner drew his gaze. Sawyer had an arm around Tally. Regan Lovell paced in front of them. Kayla and two other girls from Monroe’s class sat in red vinyl-covered chairs.

“Where is she? I need to see her.” His voice cut through the heavy silence of the room and everyone swiveled toward him.

Sawyer shook his head as if clearing his vision. “Did you teleport?”

“I’ll explain everything later.” He pulled Sawyer and Tally into a group hug. “Can you get me in?”

Sawyer shook his head. “They’re only letting family back. Her mama’s in there now.”

“I’ll get you in.” Regan marched to the nurse behind the desk. He followed and listened as she performed a Jedi mind trick on the nurse. Any argument the nurse tried was futile, and within three minutes Cade was pushing the security doors open.

Wayne Pearson and Police Chief Thomason stood outside Monroe’s door drinking steaming cups of coffee and talking quietly. Unease from his previous run-ins with Chief Thomason slowed Cade’s steps.

Wayne spotted him first. “Cade Fournette. Well, I’ll be. Thought you’d left us for good.”

Probably what Monroe had thought and Thomason had hoped. “Nope. Just tidying up matters. I’m moving home. I need to see her.”

Chief Thomason’s brows rose, but he didn’t comment. Wayne pointed toward the door. Cade hesitated and turned back. “I’ve got an investigator digging into Sam Landry’s life in Georgia. I’ll make sure you both get a copy of the report.”

Wayne and Thomason exchanged telling looks, and Thomason said, “That’d be a big help. He’s already retained Tarwater as counsel.” As Cade turned away, the chief said, “Hey, Fournette.”

Cade glanced over his shoulder, his hand on the door.

“Your mama sure would be proud of you.”

Cade nodded, another piece of his past settled where it belonged, and turned back to the door. It was time to think about the future. Monroe’s mother stood and shifted on her feet, but he didn’t spare her more than a glance.

The beep of a heart monitor set a steady, comforting rhythm. A purpling bruise on Monroe’s cheek was stark on her pale face. Her blond hair was fanned out on the pillow, the sheet pulled up under her arms. An IV was taped to the inside of her left arm, so he approached from the right and took her pliant hand in his. She felt cold.

“X-rays came back negative.” Her mother’s whisper sounded unnaturally loud and grating. “All she’s got is a heck of a bruise and a slight concussion. I’ll give you some privacy.”

He heard the door open and close. Without letting go of her hand, he pulled up a chair. Pressing his lips against the soft skin on the back, he mouthed a brief prayer even though he’d given up on religion the day he’d buried his parents.

“Cade?” Her voice was raspy and disbelieving. “Dear Lord, how long have I been out?”

His laughing sigh expelled a good portion of his worry. She sounded like his Monroe. “Not long. I was already on my way when Sawyer called me. Had already crossed the parish line heading home to you.”

“Home to me?” Her blue eyes swallowed him in warmth. He wanted to reach out for her and never let go.

“I’ve been a fool.”

“A dummy?” Her mouth twitched.

“No, don’t let me off the hook. You deserve to hear this.” He swallowed. Besides his pathetic, fumbling try earlier, he’d never told a woman he loved her. Had never loved a woman. Not in the bone-deep, primal way he loved Monroe, but he lacked the vocabulary to express himself. He tried anyway. “Nothing is more important than you. Nothing. Not money, not my company, not jumping off cliffs, not some ghost life I was living.”

His reconnection to the town, to his family, but mostly with Monroe had made him recognize the void inside of him couldn’t be filled with material things or thrills. It could only be filled with love—selfless and powerful.

“I love you, Monroe. Can you forgive me?” He pressed his lips against her hand again, needing to feel her warm skin against him in any way possible. “God, I’ve missed you.”

She didn’t respond immediately yet didn’t pull her hand away, either. He would count his victories, no matter how small.

“You’ve only been gone three days, Cade.”

“Three days and fourteen hours. I’ve been miserable. Told Richard I was moving back. Told him we could disband the company or we could keep it going with me in Cottonbloom.”

“What did he say?”

An ironic huff popped out. “Already had the contracts drawn up moving the R and D to Cottonbloom while keeping the business office open in Seattle. He’s not keen on our summers or the wildlife apparently.”

She pulled her smile up short and touched her cheek.

A protective fury and a feeling he’d failed her battled for dominance. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. I threatened to beat the crap out of him, but I heard you already did. I’d do anything to take that hit away from you.”

Now she did tug her hand free, but only to grab his wrist and pull him closer. He rose and braced his hands on either side of her shoulders, careful not to jostle her. As he brushed a kiss over her forehead, she whispered, “I wasn’t scared of him, Cade. In fact … I wanted him to hit me.”

*   *   *

Cade pulled back and looked at her as if she’d spoken gibberish.

“I goaded him into a punch. Called him a nasty old man. Spit in his face.” A frantic sort of laughter threatened, but she tamped it down. Cade might call in the doctor. Or a psychiatrist.

“Why in God’s name did you want him to hit you?”

“Because Kayla’s not strong enough to go through a trial with him. It would break her. Define her life. I needed him to hit me, so I could be the one to file charges.” Cade’s green eyes were full of questions, and she turned her face to the side to escape having to answer. Yet she couldn’t escape the truth.

“I needed to take him on by myself, or he would have continued to define
my
life. Can you understand that?”

“Like my parents’ deaths defined mine?”

She turned back to face him. “Yes. Exactly.”

“I’ve let the past go to come home. Or maybe I’ve embraced the best of my past to come home.” A strong ribbon of emotion threaded his philosophical words. “I can’t live without you, Monroe Kirby. Do you still love me?”

From any other man the declaration might veer toward melodrama. Coming from Cade and with her understanding the bond they shared, his admission made perfect sense. His face reflected the same despair she’d felt at their separation.

“I’ve loved you since I was thirteen. Three days won’t change that. Nothing will.” She ran her hands up his biceps, curled them around his neck, and pulled him down. His lips brushed hers, but she could feel his resistance.

“I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have.” His lips moved to her good cheek.

She’d protected herself for a long time, but loving him didn’t feel like a weakness. She felt stronger than ever.

“If you ever walk away from me again, I’ll…” somewhere, somehow, she found a smile “… take you out into the swamps and feed you to the gators.”

His laugh rumbled through her. “After hearing what you did to Sam, I’d be too scared to leave.”

With the weight of sadness cut away, her mood shot into the stars and she laughed, nuzzling her lips along the stubble of his jaw. “Where are you staying?”

“Hadn’t gotten that far. I was headed to your place when Sawyer called.”

She chewed her bottom lip before making her decision. “Is it too soon to think about living together?”

“I only know one thing for certain: I’m going to be in your bed every night.” He leaned up and brushed the hair back from her forehead. Something was troubling him.

“Wh-h-hat?” She drew the word out, worried she wouldn’t like what he had to confess.

“Since I’m going to be moving operations down here, I’m going to need to build a garage. I was thinking we could eventually build a house. Something bigger maybe.” She’d never heard him sound anything less than a hundred percent confident, but there was no mistaking the note of hesitancy.

“What’d you have in mind?”

“There’s a plot for sale next to Uncle Delmar’s place.”

“On the river?”

“Yep.”

A house with Cade on the river. It was a future she hadn’t let herself dream about. “Gracious, are you trying to convert me from an uptown ’Sip to a Louisiana swamp rat?” She employed a thick, fake Southern accent reserved for TV shows. Only when he relaxed did she realize how tense he’d become.

“We could stay in Mississippi, although I’m not sure Sawyer would ever forgive me. Anyway, I like the thought of you wandering out to keep me company while I work. Me being able to walk up to the house for a kiss.”

“Or a quickie?”

He dropped his face into the pillow at her neck. The breath of his laughter sent shivers through her body. “How did I live so long with you only in my dreams?”

“This is what you want? To build a life in Cottonbloom? With me?”

“It’s what I want and probably more than I deserve, but I’m going to hang on with both hands.” He gently touched her lips with his.

Her face was too sore to participate in a make-out session. The pain medication had cut her headache to a dull throb. The past nights of sleeplessness in combination with the stress of the evening, her concussion, and the relief of having him beside her had exhaustion pushing her toward sleep even as she fought it.

“Will you stay?”

“I’m not sure—”

“You said you’d be in my bed every night.” She scooted over as far as the bedrail would allow. He climbed in beside her and gathered her close. Gingerly, she laid the hurt side of her face against his heart and drifted to sleep, safe in his arms and in his heart.

Epilogue

ONE WEEK LATER …

A vibrating buzz woke Monroe. Without opening her eyes, she threw a hand out toward her nightstand and grappled for the phone. She blinked, clearing the sleep from her eyes. The backlit screen displayed Regan’s name and the time—a quarter past midnight.

Cade’s phone rang as she answered. “Regan. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“The gazebo is on fire.” Emotion strung Regan’s voice high and thin. The sound of sirens and shouts provided background noise.

Sleep slowed Monroe’s thought processes. Cade answered his phone with a growling, “What?”

“Do you need me?” she asked Regan.

“It was Sawyer, Monroe; it had to be.”

“I can’t believe—”

“Ohmigod, he’s here.” Regan disconnected.

Monroe let the phone drop and shifted toward Cade.

“Dude, don’t do anything crazy. I’m on my way.” Cade was already swinging his legs off the side of the bed. “We’d better get down there.”

They dressed in relative silence and pulled up to the common area by the river less than ten minutes later. The fire truck’s twirling red lights lent the scene an ominous, eerie feel. The fire was out, the gazebo a giant smoking former bonfire, the grass in all directions scorched.

Monroe and Sawyer were in a heated discussion with Police Chief Thomason. The chief watched the two like a spectator at a tennis match. Cade slipped his hand into Monroe’s on their quick walk up to the trio.

She squeezed and leaned into his arm. They were a united front. Taking sides wasn’t an option. Regan was in a tank top and tiny cotton pajama shorts, fuzzy cow slippers on her feet. The halo of righteous outrage emanating from her like pulses of energy kept Monroe from smiling. No matter how she was dressed, Regan Lovell was a force to be reckoned with.

Regan spied her and waved both arms around like a crazed monkey. “Look what he did. Of all the low, detestable acts, Sawyer Fournette. Not to mention illegal. Isn’t this illegal, Keith?”

“Well, technically, yes, but we don’t—”